#currently looking at 25k words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

capslocked · 7 months ago

Text

PROXIMITY

male reader x chou tzuyu

25k words

You’re not a bad person. And you know how that sounds apropos of nothing - defensive, unscrupulous - but it’s true. You’re like anybody else: full of mistakes, but good, mostly.

You are also aware of the way she looks at you. None of that has changed.

The slight quirk at the corner of her lips. A flicker, a smirk. A game, all doe-eyed and deep dimpled - she's playing the seduction one. It isn’t subtle, and you're losing by proxy. So you're backtracking, drawing your conclusions; you're reading into the line of her jaw, the fall of her hair. Measuring the weight behind each blink.

"You were wrong by the way," Tzuyu starts, indifferent. Through some act of divine retribution, she laughs. "Because to tell you the truth, I used to have, like, the biggest crush on you."

She’s young, and - well, she’s a lot of things. A terrible idea. Incredibly off-limits. She is anathema, red tape, an original sin. You shake your head at her, smile fading - which for anyone keeping score, is an admonishment, however faint.

Because Chou Tzuyu, you recognize, is categorically, unequivocally: never supposed to happen.

If you want a read on your current dilemma, then this is how it pans out:

You’re walking headfirst into one of the multiple terrible, terrible scenarios you've probably had an anxiety dream about. It’s an ambush, really.

There’s the text from Mina, explaining all the ins and outs of her winter hideaway, the logistical whereabouts, and the pinched photo from the outside, the endless winding driveway, the clearing in the woods. The remote location, the unfussed snow, the towering trees. There are no neighbors to speak of, just seclusion and isolation and that makes you, among the seven billion or whatever, the only one who will know precisely how fucked you are.

The door to the cabin swings open on its hinges. You kick the snow off your boots, and the air smells indistinctly of peppermint tea.

It’s a cozy place, you think. A slightly rustic aesthetic. There’s a pair of skis decommissioned over the mantle. Mina, as usual, has good taste. You peek around: the foyer, the open living space, the wood finishes, the sunken fireplace. You almost make out a bathroom, through a half-opened doorway - and the kitchen, maybe, is nestled around the far corner.

You settle in, find your bearings, and start taking these leisurely steps down the hall.

That’s when you see her. Wearing a sweater that's a size too big, draped over her frame - sleeves tucked, exposing the barest hint of skin on her wrists, her delicate fingertips. You blink once, twice. That’s a dangerous flare. The rest of her, this canvas of pale skin and soft, endless legs, the hollowed stretch of inner thigh-

Actually, you know what, you are going to delete that out of your mind; as far as you're concerned, Tzuyu absolutely does not have her long, satin-like mahogany hair spilling over her shoulder, her bare legs poking out from under that bulky cotton blend, and she definitely, very absolutely has not given you a complete lack of boundaries, so it's more than plausible for her to slide onto a stool near the countertop with her painted-toes peeking out from beneath the folded press of her thigh (the pedicure, really, now?) and look over at you like you aren’t perfectly familiar with that goddamn face. Those eyes, that jaw.

And her collarbone is out too. Ouch.

Tzuyu rests her chin in one of her perfectly manicured hands, and tilts her head: she’s very blatantly checking you out.

The problem is, you’ve recognized her immediately.

Which - god, the bottom-lines, the blurred borders. It’s been years. She's twenty-three, twenty-four now, and as it turns out, she's taller than you remember. She's thinner, taller, actually a bit filled out too-

Right, okay, no. Just. Delete that image from the internal memory.

"Oh," you breathe, because there's not a single thing you're sure you’re supposed to do. It takes a split second too long to put the brakes on everything in your brain and say, "Tzuyu." It takes even more control not to tack an unthinkingly fond 'miss' to the front of her name - you're a god-honest lost hope - but at the last minute, you settle for, "hi."

It’s unnatural. She's actually somehow prettier than you remember, and the tousled brown curls flowing down her shoulder make it worse. She smiles, gently; this soft-spoken, "hey."

She’s at the kitchen island, holding a bowl of cereal and looking at you like she’s taking inventory. The strap of her bra is black, loose around the curve of her left shoulder; she's barefoot. Any other context, and it's your favorite kind of combination, basically: casual and messy and haphazard. Perfect. She's so tall, christ.

"We've met a few times," and she's not even phrasing it as a question - because she knows for a fact that you know her - and now, well, you can see how that's a problem.

"Yeah." You drop your bags. "Nobody said anything about anyone being here, so, I'm just a little-"

“Relieved?” Tzuyu tries, and if it sounds conceited, you’ve imagined it.

“Surprised,” you amend, quickly. There is a massive amount of distance currently between the both of you - several feet and an island counter to top it off. That's good, you think.

Tzuyu runs her hands over the top of her hair, a half-effort at putting it up into some sort of a ponytail, or maybe a bun. You see now that her nails are bare. "I'd heard from Mina," she starts, "that Sana was coming here-"

And you watch, absentmindedly, as Tzuyu slides down off her chair. You watch her too carefully almost, for a beat. You want to follow the length of her legs with the same ease and shamelessness - like it's instinct or just expected; it's ridiculous and wrong to think, but-

"-with, uh, someone. She left it purposefully vague." Tzuyu finishes, then pauses. Her gaze slides across you. If the awkward stretch of silence is weird, she doesn't comment on it. “Then I heard the flight got delayed because of all the snow."

"Just Sana’s," you correct, and that's not information you should be simply giving away. She just stands there, blinking up at you.

"Huh," she says, eyebrow lifted - slower than is explicitly necessary, “so you’re like. All alone until she gets here.” She simply eats a spoonful of cereal, chews for a moment, and adds, “bummer.”

It’s true, in some sense. You sigh, rake a hand back through your hair, and your jacket falls further down on one of your shoulders; she drops her gaze down, almost imperceptibly, following the motion.

There is definitely a point where you could take notice of a lot of things, and they include, but are certainly not limited to: the fucking languor with which she is licking the yogurt off the back of her spoon, her stupidly long eyelashes fanning on the tops of her cheeks when she glances down, the frankly risque neckline of her sweater. Those kinds of things. Those kinds of details. Really, you wouldn’t dare.

"It sounds like she’ll be getting in tomorrow evening," you decide to inform her, though she didn't ask, and now she nods, focusing still on the yogurt and granola at the bottom of her bowl.

You walk into the kitchen. Rap your knuckles on the countertop. Tzuyu’s right there, and your mind is filling up with images you could really do without. That's the unfortunate, traitorous nature of all this: in any universe, Chou Tzuyu fawns over you. And she will, on accident or purpose, test you. And as for your hesitation - that's an instinct that gets activated every time you so much as meet Tzuyu in person, this invasive little impulse.

"Well," Tzuyu says, way too casually. “It’s just us then.”

"Yeah." you agree, stilted. “Just us.”

"There's wine," she decides, tilts her head. Then, matter of factly, "and coffee, hot cocoa. Mina’s more or less stocked on everything."

Her voice hits the room all nice, sweet, syrupy - god, fuck, maybe there's a window or a door here somewhere that you're supposed to open to clear the air, but when you look, there’s frost on the glass; it’s the subalpine frigidity. Tzuyu flashes you this other sort of glance - her teeth scrape the rounded spoon's tip before her lips fully fix around it. The drowsy, delirious feeling is almost involuntary at this point.

"I should unpack my things, is what I should do, probably," and now you are saying things for the sake of saying them, as an escape. "Hey, seriously. Sorry for the inconvenience."

“Don’t be,” she tells you. "The weather isn't anybody's fault."

(Here, a premonition. You look at Tzuyu, who raises an eyebrow back.)

The next logical move is: leave. Tzuyu folds her long limbs back up onto the stool, and you're - trying not to look. You're also trying not to do it consciously, actively - you're not, and not. You fail, like you did a few years ago, too - the eyes have a bad habit of wandering. She's made of porcelain, all thin wrists, thin neck, soft curves and delicate lines. She's made out of glass - she’s at her most dangerous when you’ve gone and broken her.

It’s possible, you think, she could break you too.

Look, contextually - it’s Murphy’s law, or maybe your own very specific curse. A lot of stuff happens, so here’s a rough draft, your best effort at an approximation, a smudged-pencil sketch:

Tzuyu has been on vacation in the Alps from the start of the week, or maybe the week prior - she's alone in this stupidly big cabin you're supposed to be meeting Sana in for two weeks and change of pure unadulterated, hedonistic fun. Skiing, lounging, stargazing, drinking, screwing, consummating a situationship. You know the drill.

However there ends up being an actual, literal avalanche - with snow and rocks and ice and whatever the fuck - the power goes out, and you can only assume the whole mountain's gone dark. It's like a classic, a cautionary tale: hey, dude, you're on vacation with this drop-dead gorgeous girl who will let you do whatever you want to her - in the name of love and lust and a loosely legal liability. She says she'll be yours forever, except you also heard her say that the universe is entitled to laugh at you, a bit - so you do something you'll regret (which, okay, you've done countless things you'll regret) and now you're getting punished for it, and so is the stunning temptress currently shivering in the bed next to you. Seriously, whatever you do, do not fuck her, don't let her get too attached, because oh, man - Tzuyu really likes to make herself comfortable, huh? To nestle herself into your arms, let her hand stroke circles in the dark fabric of your t-shirt, warm her cold nose into your chest, and cuddle the night away. She's so easy to give in to, isn't she? This walking, talking paradox of everything she's not supposed to be and everything she'll willingly do anyway - there's her expression, placid and rapturous in equal measures, the sleepy mumbles against your skin that sound like prayers, her damp breaths.

You should know better. You should know that this is the universe, laughing its ass off at you.

And just for the record, there is sound reason for everyone to feel, in some sense, extremely concerned by the narrative that your life has slowly, unceremoniously devolved itself into.

The first time you meet Chou Tzuyu is years ago. She’s dramatically, devastatingly, problematically, young.

It was all happening before you could really clock it, and it was morally reprehensible, and it was, in fact, probably all your own doing.

And it’s even more obvious in retrospect: how she would react to the way you reach back and ruffle your hair when you laugh, the casual appeal of your smile, the depths of your tone, how you cut it as close as you can get it. A girl will trip all over herself to let you look after her; that’s the basic blueprint, that's the default. See, you're in your twenties, an adult - not having figured out much, but having certainly figured out this - and it's very much not lost on you that the girl should not be flirting with you - but she does, and the very worst of it is: you let her.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jihyo had said at the time, and, in fairness, yeah. That more or less sums it up.

So you end up making a point of never getting to know her, to always keep the conversation nonexistent. Or in the worst case scenario, brief - on surface level topics. The weather. Your job. Food. If you like her sunglasses. (They look protective, you’d told her, very practical. Very safe.) It's the essentials, a light, professional rapport - never once crossing the border from casual conversation to candid disclosure.

She's infatuated, of course. You're not mincing words here. It's actually rather unfortunate, how gone she is for you. You could’ve probably stood to dial it back; you, and your charm. Your smiles.

Because Chou Tzuyu was however many years young, very much off-limits - and like a lot of people it seems, totally hooked on your whole deal.

(Theoretically, that's how it all starts. Which is why, pragmatically, you will never, ever lay a finger on her.)

So, the plan to get through this was simple and to the point and as follows:

* Avoid unnecessary physical contact

* Maintain social distance, in fact - something covid-esque sounds great, about six feet

* Do not offer opinions/advice unless specifically asked

* Minimize speaking, just to be safe

* Do not exchange gifts, especially personal ones

* Be wary of the temptation to take a voluntarily-tipsy Tzuyu to bed, because you'll want to - and god knows Tzuyu will make it extremely clear that you could; this is exactly how shit turns south-

* Adjust and reframe

* Reinforce

* Remind yourself

* To just fucking think about literally anything else

It was working fine, so far - really fine, especially if you consider how early into the stay you're sitting there, telling yourself off in the bathroom mirror, get it together, you dumbass. What is wrong with you, don’t you know better by now - before an unapologetic knock on the door snaps you out of it, and the click of the door opening a moment later forces a heavy inhale from your chest: you just need a fucking second, thanks - not a half-decent excuse or a rearrangement, not a careful restructure, just a split second in your own head; that's not even the sort of thing you're prone to needing, because it's you, but with Chou fucking Tzuyu-

A soft breathy laugh, "are you okay in here?"

Tzuyu pokes her head into the room, her hair a wavy curtain that tumbles down past the middle of her back. You have this vague, fleeting impulse to run your fingers through it.

"Well," and there goes all the shit you'd managed not to think about, or contemplate, or dwell upon for that one glorious, naive, misinformed second. "Sort of," you say, offering her a quick glance.

"Really?" Tzuyu says, not catching onto the whole existential crisis thing. "Is there anything else you need? I mean," and then your eyes fall upon her; she's put a sweater on, pants, which all things considered, is a huge victory, a total rout - her baggy sweater drapes on her, practically brushing her thigh where the material stops, the hem. "I guess not, just. Um," her teeth catch her bottom lip for a quick moment, and this time she glances back towards the hall, the granite-finish tiles. "Wanna make s'mores?"

"What," you ask, because honestly, what the actual fuck-

"I went into town to get fresh groceries earlier this week. Everything just kinda landed in my cart," she says, the beginning of an explanation - the backstory, if you will. "And there's a fireplace. Momo always says the calories don't count if it's social eating, so." She makes a small shrug.

"Oh,” you say, like you understand. Your throat feels tight. “She’s totally right.”

She offers you a small nod. Tucks her hair behind her ear. You wonder if she knows how suggestive even the smallest of gestures she makes are; and more so, if she does it knowingly, or simply without thought - if it's a facet of her own effortlessness.

"Um," you say, for no particular reason other than that Tzuyu is fucking distracting. "Okay."

The edges of her mouth tick upwards at that. "We could put something on the tv,” she suggests. “For the vibe."

"Oh yeah, for the ambience."

"For the ambience," she nods.

(And fuck her, seriously. You might be a goner already.)

"A winter weather advisory," Tzuyu reads, squinting slightly at the tv. A minute later: "Just stay home," followed by another pause, and a frown: "hail and ice too. Yeah, no kidding."

She's reading the weather report. You're pretending you have any idea how to work the fireplace while she sets her eyes on the news, hands running over the blankets she has huddled around herself - legs folded, tucked into the edge of her chest. She'd gotten as far as logging into her Netflix account before the suggestion of cuddling was so obviously implied, her hands patting the cushioned space beside her that you were required by moral law to flip through the cable options until you found the least sexy, least rom-com-y option you could find: a newscaster reporting on the ongoing inclement weather, a forecaster saying 'near zero chance of improving, so travel is heavily discouraged, we strongly advise against-'

"Wonder if Sana's even going to make it," Tzuyu breaks the relative silence, and you are acutely aware of how casual she has been referring to Sana, the complete and utter lack of jealousy or any emotion related - or you guess, inspired. She's not even the slightest bit irked. “If the airport opens, maybe," she adds, and, after a beat, "let's hope."

It gets colder. You can barely see three feet past the front door. The forecast only gets worse, the storm intensifies and swells, it snows and snows - and this isn't a cottage somewhere on the lake, you're a couple miles down a single-track, woodsy road, far, far away from society.

If only these walls could talk, honestly. You're like, caught in a moment. With Tzuyu and marshmallows and these tiny, sticky wooden skewers. This is a story you will tell nobody, ever.

"I don’t mean to say I told you so," she says, but it comes out with a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker, and marshmallow, which sort of takes the bite out of it. "But the movie is a little more entertaining."

You pretend like you weren't staring at her mouth a beat prior. "Right, a cinematic masterpiece."

Tzuyu tugs a marshmallow off the stick, and looks over at you again. Smiles around the impromptu pastry. She's just such a bright, wholesome thing - soft-hearted, selfless, so innocuous and so pleasant. It's absolutely sick. You have a fucking pavlovian response to Tzuyu simply existing.

And you’re pretending like the white, tacky remains on her mouth haven't permanently solidified that look into memory: the melted chocolate, the whipped sugar, the dimple. You could really do without this specific feeling - for however much longer it'll last, should the storm linger.

"You don’t ever have stuff like this, just for a quiet, carefree time?" Tzuyu licks it off her skin, and the question kind of drags your attention elsewhere.

You breathe in, slow.

Maybe she can feel it too, you think. Because Tzuyu drags the pad of her thumb against her bottom lip, and a question she doesn't ask flickers to life in her gaze: if you'll break or not, if there is an absolute limit.

But it’s impossible to read her. Tzuyu takes up this real easy-going disposition, all quiet and stoic, sort of, and maybe that's the dangerous part of her - the stillness. Other moments, she has this uncanny knack for conversation. She's charming in that way, you have always thought, a bright face. She has a keen understanding of things too - maybe sometimes too much; maybe a little bit beyond her years, really, a little too knowledgeable.

"When the gang does," you answer, diplomatically. “Sure, I suppose.”

There's another smile at that, which is how you know that the back and forth, this coolly cool, somewhat-stiff exchange is sort of becoming a game. A bet on who cracks, who turns. She won't tell you it's you, and you'll never in your right mind acknowledge her. It's some version of honesty. A bit like Russian roulette.

"I used to think we were friends, you know," she muses, like it's some great mystery - all very deliberately cryptic. Like it's funny.

"Hey, you were like, a teenager," you're grasping at straws. You’re spinning the bullet round the conversational chamber. “And I have this thing-”

"You have a thing?" Her eyebrow is raised again - sweetly challenging.

"-like, a principle, a standard - if there's nothing there, and let's face it: there's really not something here-"

"Aw," Tzuyu fakes pouting, which is simultaneously very mean and also like, painfully hot, and she makes this pitiful coo, "you really have nothing to say at all, do you."

Which. Fuck, she’s right. The 'thing' here is the no touching, the no messing, the no making anything resembling a move. She's sitting over there with her mouth covered in sugar, batting her goddamn eyelashes. Which you ignore, thank god for impulse control, or the instinct of it, and Tzuyu pushes a graham cracker past her lips to placate her own expression.

And so it goes. She keeps looking at you and looking and looking and you stare, transfixed, back at her. The edges of her jaw, the rise of her nose, the jutting curve of her collarbone; you say something dumb or clever and you're making her laugh, and every time she does, her teeth catch on her bottom lip and you could really do with a distraction right now, but it's impossible not to flirt.

It's just the way the universe has constructed you - this starvation, a twisted desire. There’s cruelty in the design.

(Things take a turn for the worse, of course. You don’t know how, but she gets to you agree that you two should've gotten closer in all that time-

"Well, I’m sure you were just so busy," you'd shrugged, indifferent, and she'd pressed the sleeve of her sweater to her mouth, just to hide how bright the smile was.

-which, honestly, fuck you - given all the context. Because now she's right here in the cabin; she's an arm's length away, and all this time, you've meant to stay the fuck out of reach.)

Tzuyu does the worst thing. She returns from the kitchen, hands full, with two squat tumblers and a bottle of dark brandy. She sets one down next to you and asks if you want some.

You look. You mean, what are you even supposed to do? It's a catch twenty-two, it's a joke - what can a girl be thinking, standing there. Bending the right way, hair framing a face like hers.

Yeah, sure - it’s the voice of someone who's slipping, who’s gonna say the same thing three more times. "Hm, why not."

The ice clinks against the glass. Then, the pour. Toast to good health, a clean conscience, safe passage; you’ll take whatever you can get.

You watch Tzuyu knock back an impressive amount and make an impressive face. There’s maturity there, you cope. Because you want to touch her jaw, thumb over her cheekbone, breathe baby, it's too strong, slow down on her lips, watch her mouth open slightly-

The fire pops.

She leans toward you. “Are you going to keep stealing stories from me, or are you going to supply anything good to the discussion?"

"About me, personally?" you say, purposefully pedantic.

Tzuyu’s smirk is half-present, half-playful. She sets down her tumbler on a coaster - Mina would be appreciative - and hums at you. “What do you think I mean?”

"I was really hoping the inflection would help clarify."

She levels a gaze with you. You fight back for a hot second - this slow-burning heat under the skin, your resolve threatening to buckle, shatter, spill itself everywhere - and in the end, she is the one that looks away, softly laughing, a pfft under her breath. You’re left the opportunity to just - look. See where the glow from the wood-burning fire has cast this gorgeous gold over her face, all her defined curves, her delicate features.

"I don't care, it could be anything," she poses, settling back into the pillows. Smiling. "Please. Entertain me."

Her cheeks are rosy. You realize, quite suddenly, you are not totally sober either. This is exactly how Sana talked you into something however many moons ago, then however many moons later, surgically unattached all the strings. Sana’s good at talking. At convincing. And you don't do shots like her, or apparently like Tzuyu does - but hell, it's that maddening, pretty little dimple of hers - the one that's always there when she does her mischievous smirk - a deeply devastating look, a devil-may-care demeanor, and you're dead-drunk on it, honestly.

"Want me to talk about Sana?" you offer, "seems like an obvious choice."

"I think you’re projecting," Tzuyu teases. “You just miss her, I'm sure.”

"Mhm. Sure."

Tzuyu makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a snort, and draws the blankets more tightly around her. "What," she says, nonplussed, "who doesn't want to hear some gossip about their friends?"

You're fucking up, right? Fucking up the same way you did years ago when you caught the wrong kind of feeling for an entirely, altogether inappropriate woman. But you'll blame the drinks. And the mood. And the ambience, the fucking fire that's almost suffocating, the closeness of her body next to you-

"Hey," you say, and it's such a mistake. You're pointing to a spot on your chin. You're making it worse. "You got a little, uh-"

You watch as she lifts her hand, glides it through the air - brushes her own cheek with her fingertips, smoothing out an imagined blemish.

"Did I get it?"

"Uh, well, sorta-" and she knows you’re lying.

Tzuyu tries again. Comes up short, and when her hair falls in front of her face, she’s looking at you like maybe you’ll help take care of that too. She’s a total fucking coquette - though maybe she hasn’t even done it on purpose, maybe she's just that unaware, innocent. Not the second one, you figure. You're leaning, tilting closer and closer to her - in any other scenario, there'd be the shortest possible time between her touching herself and you, cupping her jaw with one of your hands.

But your mouth feels like it's moving of its own accord. "No, wait, let me help you," you continue, before you know it.

Isn’t it disastrous; all ice and hazard, this is the advisory in effect; a napoleon-goes-to-russia caliber calamity, a colossal write off, a write in. You could have, should have stopped, except you didn't and now you're reaching, gently, until your palm cups the side of her face - until you press, until you hold her steady. Her head tilts. She lets you, blinking up. Her eyes are this hazy, intoxicated coffee-brown, honeyed and burnt and fucking beautiful.

You swipe your thumb along her bottom lip. The gesture is slow, languid, intentional; you think, through some cosmic error, that might just be the end of it.

"There," you say, smiling, naive.

"Yeah," Tzuyu breathes out, and she winds her fist into the fabric of your shirt. "Thanks."

You lean, or she does; you go down, or she pulls you; there's no difference, really.

She is kissing you, this soft little press. A tug in every direction. You hadn’t kissed her, at the very start, but when her fingers thread through your hair, gripping hard, bringing you closer until you groan, parting your lips slightly, and - and her tongue flits past yours - your brain does this wild mental leap that you ought to be questioning later.

But everything starts to sink.

One of your hands lands on her waist, thumb slipping under the hem of her sweater and pressing against bare skin, and her knee nudges between both of your legs - until Tzuyu hums this low, pretty sound in her throat. There is something fervent here, all-consuming, devouring; her mouth moves like it's frantic for air, for oxygen and fuel, and her whole body melts under yours like she's completely falling apart.

Fuck, you think. There is a deep, smouldering heat in the pit of your stomach.

Because she’s perfect. You always knew that, didn’t you. She is firelight and perfume and muted gold; everything else falls into shadow, fades into the background. Her lips are velvet-soft, and they open again and again with these heavy exhales of hot air - so much so that you have to shift the hand you'd set on her waist lower, a little, her hip bone under your palm, a touch ghosting towards the dip and the swell.

Somehow you have this knowledge: at the end of everything, it'll be her name falling helplessly off your tongue.

"You were wrong by the way,” she stops to say.

"About-" You press another kiss into her jaw, and her mouth parts around the same slow sigh. "Wait." You lean back enough to look at her again.

“Whatever you said earlier." Tzuyu’s eyes go half-lidded as she starts petting your hair back into place, thumb stroking your jawline. "I'd have made time."

Oh, christ-

"Because to tell you the truth," her tongue wets her lip, shiny, wet, "I've never really forgotten. Like I just thought, that whole thing was so… fleeting, you know, like the last time, when you let me text you - god, I was crushing so hard."

You breathe, shaking your head.

"Don’t," is what comes out of your mouth after, quick, sharpened.

“Don’t what?” Tzuyu taunts, pushing another inch further. That small grin on her face, her long, nimble fingers combing through your hair.

You are trying to think, and there was an apology, right? You'd had this one in you. The one that began as a guilty soliloquy, a rueful acknowledgement; something that should have been directed toward Tzuyu, told her, at one point, or another: look. Sorry it's like this.

But there is a hand tracing the collar of your shirt - a sensation that follows all the way to the base of your throat; you lean further into her touch, almost involuntarily - a simple motion, and yet. "You shouldn't. You shouldn't say things like that to me," and you mean: these things you already know. "It's not good."

"Doesn't feel that bad," she tells you, a breezy sort of whisper, warm. "I think I'm getting the opposite impression."

"Maybe for the wrong reasons," you remind her. And to remind yourself, actually. "Probably for the wrong reasons - trust me, it is.”

"Trust you," and it’s the slightest bit ridiculing, a tease - Tzuyu drops her smile, pulls you in by the hair, whispers low. "Sure," the syllable soft, pressed against your throat, "I trust you not to hurt me," and the 'not' gets hung on for an impossibly long moment, stretched out thin.

She's sinister; she has to be, or some amalgamation of the most potent version of every word she’s ever said. A dream girl, the definition and essence of a temptress, this shameless attraction - an insistent siren begging for your attention; the incepting mind-game; the entity that stalks the halls in the deepest trenches of the night, whispering your worst fears right into your ear. You fall further into Tzuyu, the prettiest of nightmares.

(Oh, it's the dimple that does you in, really: if there's any possible way that Chou Tzuyu has unintentionally ruined your life, she's done it with that innocent little smile.)

"You can kiss me again," Tzuyu says, permissive.

And you do. You kiss her, and kiss her like you’ve no choice - like you've decided, at least in this very moment, if Tzuyu can own a piece of your soul, you can take something too.

(The thing about a cautionary tale: sometimes it is really just a story. Sometimes it happens and the world is left unscathed. There were a lot of warning signs, yes. But this could be a coda, a moralistic adage, a story to turn the page on and laugh and be embarrassed by and say, oh, no, I'd definitely do better; a blip. We’d never do anything like that. It's all history, honestly.)

It's not romantic, and it's less gentle than you’d have expected: Tzuyu bites your lip at one point, and you grab her hip so hard she yelps. The pause in the after is filled with a provocation, a stare, a tilt of your head, and her saying, “hey, easy now.” You cup her face in your hands, and run your thumb over lips. The calm is pretty short-lived. She gets her hands working frantically to tear your shirt off over your head. Then it's a haphazard stumble into the doorframe of the bedroom, with her pulling you in too-hard by the waist, bumping your nose against hers in this rough meeting - until your lips fit together.

“Mm,” Tzuyu’s mouth pushes insistently into yours and your tongue immediately laves at its underside, coaxes it to slide against yours and soon she’s sliding forward on purpose - on her own initiative, pressing the steady line of your cock against the seam of your pants, the pressure sudden.

"Watch it," you murmur, breaking away a little to glare at her, which just makes her smile, like she likes pissing you off or something, likes watching you get mad at her, or whatever - if she says it's true, then it is, probably - she's honest.

Her small hand darts up, gripping the sides of your jaw tightly and moving in, kissing like it's easy; like she knows what the fuck she's doing. Her head tilts and she does it again, except it's a few times in a row, making out in the doorway.

"And if I say no?" She grins, hand at your dick again, just palming through the fabric and getting off on your soundless reactions to it all. "Like, is that really enough? I feel like you'd have to like - tie me up. Something - you know?"

"That sounds like a you problem."

A mischievous smile steals across her lips and you feel yourself doing the same. "Yeah, you're right," she responds, dragging her thumb and forefinger from the zipper of your jeans to the hard line of your cock, pinching gently along the shape. "It is my problem."

She feels pliant, more than willing, but it's a calculated type of softness. Still, you get a hint, a vague message and you figure, the way this girl's smirking in her lips: she likes being held down, held fast and steady, so you pin her wrists above her head - her eyes stay on you, don't drop; you pin her, and her expression becomes that shade more dark, more teasing. Oh, you'll go slowly, you think, until Tzuyu gives. You'll climb a hand further under her sweater, let it skim over her ribs. You'll kiss her again, open-mouthed, and slow, until she can't breathe.

Her head knocks into the wall, she bites and smiles like a promise, and all her muscle flexes under your grip. "Oh, seriously," Tzuyu whispers into your mouth. "Y'know, this is like a fantasy of mine.”

And that's kind of it: she has that look. In the morning, you can see yourself chasing her down into sheets - just pinning her with the weight of your whole body, feeling each tensed curve of her against you. She pulls you closer, into her; she seems the type.

"I’d really rather not hear that, Tzu.”

"And I want to hear you say please, more than anything," Tzuyu laughs at herself, something hard in it, "but I think you want to fuck me so bad, it'll come naturally. Like, the second you have your fingers inside me. And that's what you want, right? Tell me."

"I'm thinking about your legs,” you tell her, running your palm around the curve of her thigh. Fuck, she’s perfect. “Think they'd fit around my waist."

"And hook my ankles? I’d love that." Her eyes crinkle. "Is that it, though?"

"Maybe I'd keep my hand on your throat and fuck you like that, too. That's on the table."

Tzuyu laughs: a real, actual sound, but not at you. "It is. You're smart."

"To be completely transparent," you mutter. "I don't plan on asking you very nicely at all."

The lines in Tzuyu's face go a little blissful, contented, like she's so, so pleased with this, like she approves, and she kisses you again, the length of your bodies pressed together, except where her hips cant up and meet the space between your thighs. You drag a hand roughly along her waist, kneading muscle there, down to the rise of her jeans - which, fuck, you need to help her shimmy out of and find the pull of the sweater, whatever - and she grinds out some noise, something caught between her throat and her teeth, but mostly in the place where your hand's dragged under the material, tugging gently at the wire of a bra, and you'd actually kind of forgotten it was a thing.

It's when you hear her own rasp, when she slips the side of your zipper open with a few quick strokes, shoving her fingers inside to hold the base of your cock, that you finally decide:

She's yours and you'll prove it. You'll make sure she knows: the evidence, the fingerprints, the bruises blooming the size of your thumbs and she'll be the one showing them off with pride. She'll let you do whatever you like, which'll be a lot. She'll appeal to all the worst parts of you; she'll say thank you; she'll whimper while you're pulling her bra off and simply letting it flutter to the ground; she'll be crying within the first half an hour of you touching her. You can read it right off her gorgeous face. She'll be so damn breathtakingly-pretty, bouncing on your cock, folded under your weight - it'll be incredible. She'll be yours.

"Come on," Tzuyu breathes. "Yes. Please," she adds, as though it's an afterthought, her free hand tangling in your hair, pulling. "Hurry, or something - I fucking love this but we need to- I’m literally going to, like, die if you don’t touch me right now."

"Yeah," is what you get out. Her jeans finally fall to her ankles and she kicks, to get them to puddle onto the floor. "Yeah. Alright, maybe."

You won't even need to hear her begging, you already know how she sounds: a little annoyed and very turned on, rolling her eyes at herself. This part - she's playing at resistance, but she's giving in. A kiss back, hotter than you were expecting, as you slip a hand up the back of her bare thigh and the edge of her underwear, a thin strip, like it's done on purpose.

When you tuck a finger inside the waistband, feeling a little guilty about the way her whole body reacts - the flex, the pull, the weight of all her muscle straining against how her legs fall open - Tzuyu manages, her face in the hollow of your cheek: "you've waited long enough, right?"

God, she knows where the wounds are still fresh. Which bruises will hurt most when she puts a finger right into one - a reminder you couldn't possibly ignore. She's playing this whole thing a little bit sadistically; she wants this to be your fault, you can tell.

And your mind isn't unbending. You push a finger into her cunt and the girl absolutely shakes apart, body jerking like you've severed a lifeline. She's so wet, and so pretty, so sensitive. Maybe you really have.

"Tzu," you tell her. The hand in your hair tightens, a warning, as you let two, then three, fingers shove inside her. She's breathless; the slow, rough motions, her entire body riding the heel of your palm. "Do you want me to tell you how good you are for me, right now? Is that it?"

"Yeah - do. Please, fuck - please say it."

"I was right," is what you manage, biting your tongue.

"Right?" She asks, her fingers locked, urging your thrusting to turn punishing. "Please."

"Do you want me to make this a nice, pretty little memory? Suck the bitterness out and - have something sweet to go back to, the next time someone hurts you."

"I can take it." She snaps, not even responding to your comment. "Tell me you need me and you're leaving me no choice."

You smile into her hair, because she's a dream. Your thumb pushes into her clit and you can feel her seize up with a pathetic whine.

"Pretty," you mutter, as she slumps her chest to yours. You kiss it right into her hair. “I need you, Tzu.”

And the idea's seductive: keep her pinned and fuck her right into the wall. See her wrecked by the end; the swell of her thumb bloody from how she was biting into it, how she's wrenching at your wrist. Your lips land over her collarbone - no, hers do, to the side of your head - she'd be bent in half if it wasn't for the wood at her back. Her leg crossed in the small of your back. A proper, all-consuming kind of wrecking, with your name on it.

"Yes." Tzuyu nods into your temple, “just- that.”

You're kissing the crook of her neck; your fingertips sliding right against the end of her, your fingers pressing into her and stretching the girl to her limits, making her tremble in her own skin, making her insides melt for the next round, and the next round, and the next; the best, and worst, and longest-lasting kind of high. Your fingertips push together, flutter apart, and Tzuyu's eyes open all of a sudden, locking onto yours.

"Please," she gasps, this one thing. She has tears in her eyes: her face falls into your hands like water, a long drip, and she's all but unraveling.

"I'm going to make you cum, okay?" you tell her, and it sounds so sincere that she simply nods. She trusts you. Implicitly. You see how something in her relaxes, muscles unwinding as though for one last moment. Then you lean down, to her ear, to murmur: "say you're mine."

Her teeth are gritting. You can feel every last point.

"Just yours," she mutters, and it's barely even audible, but she'll say it: over and over, as her orgasm builds, before her mouth goes slack. "Always been. From the very beginning, please-"

“Fuck,” you bite down, and she looks like she’s won.

“So long, y’know?” she manages, in her halting voice, as if you haven't got two fingers up her sweet, perfect cunt, which is, currently, gripping the shit out of your hand, the hungry slutty muscle spasms, a slippery fist; it's not too hard getting Tzuyu to talk dirty and vulgar like a total degenerate - all it takes is the circle of your thumb and she’s perfect and pliant and absolutely out of her mind. “Since like, forever-”

You need her to stop. Need her to be quiet. Your palm lands over the shape of her mouth. She's murmuring something else, but it's muffled - and that's perfect, really. You’re not going to hell; all the devils are already here, getting off on the impropriety-

On the fucking drag of your fingertips. If it isn’t mean, it’s definitely cynical. Each curl of a knuckle unwinding her, a little more, a little further. The gush of her slick that’s collected on the webbing between your fingers is getting unruly, and you’re pressing her mouth flat against your hand, muffling the sheer appreciation.

“Shh,” you tell her, and she seems to calm - insofar you find a spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and her chest shudder. “Don’t. Hold still for me, I want to watch you cum, Tzu.”

The only thing you can hear beyond the stilted breathing against your hand is her wet cunt getting stretched and fucked on your fingers. It’s so simple. So straightforward. The front of her orgasm makes her jolt against your hips and you pin her again, just to see those gorgeous eyes opening and shutting in sync.

It's this beautiful thing, watching her cum; her flushed cheeks, her pupils blown.

"Good girl," is the only thing you manage in response. "Such a good - such a good little-"

She moans into your hand and finally the muscles of her core tighten, tipping over the precipice as she tips back from the edge. "Ah, you - oh, it feels so-”

You tell her not to talk, and thumb her sensitive clit until the girl's screaming.

Her cries cut through the hallway: the friction, your movements - she's grinding desperate to ride her own orgasm. The absolute highs wracking her silent. She doesn't seem capable of getting off her tiptoes, or opening her eyes properly. Her mouth's still gaping beneath your palm with a whimper, her lungs heaving, and her cunt practically burning-hot - or, she just is, she's overheating, and everything else is burning around her.

"I'm going to fuck your pretty little cunt, Tzu," you tell her as her hips jump and her eyes open. You drop her leg, which buckles instantly. "You're going to be good for me, won’t you?"

"Yes, sir," Tzuyu promises you - it makes you wince - like she'd say anything else, with her hips pushing into your hand like she can't remember how not to.

Even with her brain turning to mush, Tzuyu finds it within her to tease, to pull, to coax - as her slick slides down the seam between your fingers, like she's gushing, a wet ribbon coating the backs of your knuckles. There's a fantasy in it, you think - and it's always the unapologetic type, like, they never admit it: they want the dirt, the debasing. There's always a blueprint to it; they want to hear how terrible it is and then have some fun playing into it, playing a part.

Only Tzuyu’s lip is wobbling; she’s looking at you like you’re going to fuck her apart and she’ll thank you for it. There's no play. Tzuyu wants your cum and she's so open-legged about it you can't pretend it's not exactly that simple.

She’s going to fall apart if you don’t shove your cock in her tight cunt. You need to pin her there - fuck her until she’s shaking. You can already see the face she’ll make when you shock yourself inside her-

"What is it, baby?" you ask her, and a beat later, you draw your zipper down with a steady hand, the other working in her mouth, pressing down the tip of her tongue - not exactly holding, not exactly pulling out of her.

Tzuyu sighs, heavy on her eyelids and slow. Very pretty.

"I want-" Her head is lolling. She's in a daze, now, you can tell: her mouth wet and trembling, her legs kicking weakly, a full-bodied tremor overcoming her. Everything wraps around you as your cock slides inside her: the pale-soft underside of her legs, her slender arms. All those lovely, endless tensed lines, her strong abs. She can hold you like this, with only her abdomen tightening, the rest of her almost liquid. Her head knocks into yours. "Fu-fuck my cunt, fill it, please.”

You use the angle, the approach. Her pussy's practically spasming on the thick tip, milking the hardness there - but the deeper, more confident strokes, you feel it in every one of her shaky breaths. The only thing you can see is Tzuyu's dumb little doe eyes, the one-to-two second interval, fluttering in between slow, heavy blinks. The walls of her pussy are all at once so gentle and smooth, her cunt a plush, warm vice on your cock; she's clinging, and hot, and you're so buried inside you could probably pick her apart with a few words alone:

"Please," she's muttering to herself, and every single cry gets stuck in her mouth and vibrates between the both of you.

Your fingertips hook into the curve of her waist, until your nails are sinking into the flesh, pinching gently, and watching her expression twist, you grip her hips with all the bruising-strength in your hands, yank her back onto your cock. Her spine goes rigid as a line of curses fall like rain from her mouth. A shuddering gasp - you have to steady her against you, where her knees lock tight around your waist as though she's worried you're leaving, like she's scared you won't stay-

"Baby," you grit out, like you'd beg too, "Oh- fuck, my baby, you're - you're all mine, okay."

You bury yourself balls-deep - and there's no pretense, it's just you and her, the pace making Tzuyu's little repeating "ah" go choppy with your thrusting, her eyes clamping shut, her limbs locking around you.

"Too deep," she groans. "Jesus, it's-"

"Uh uh," you mutter against the bend of her chin, and press in, still, maybe just to spite her. "Fight me. If it's too deep."

There’s tears in her lashes, she’s sobbing; you’re fucking her so properly you think she wants to kill you. It might even be written into that glossy expression: death, your demise. But her pretty eyes glint with mischief and her lips split into a grin.

"Try me," and this laugh, coming up from your chest - low, amused. "Go ahead. Put my neck in your hand, if you want-"

There's only ever a couple of moves. Like in chess, the combinations repeat, patterns emerge. Tzuyu pulls into your kiss; her wrist pinned to the wall behind her with one of your hands, the other knocking her thighs apart. Her ankles hook into your hips, just as you knew they would. There are so few options for a person; the only solution's the natural one - the urge to match each other's needs; to lose yourself in the easy push and the easy pull.

It doesn't take long before she opens up beneath you: until there's nothing between the hard pound of your hips and her tender, creaming cunt. Then there's that final gasp, this violent pulse as she takes her hands back from you to cup around your ears and press her lips to the line of your cheekbones and nose and mouth, with her tear-slick skin and saliva and, god - she's a whimperer, you now know, but Tzuyu holds her body still enough to not sway. The picture-perfect example of a good little girl -

That's how you push your mouth to hers: the steady-languid thrust of your cock between the hot clamp of her legs. "Oh, god, you’re gonna make me cum again, christ," her cries go, all muffled, right into your lips. She’s a little lost. Fucked-out. Blissful.

It's not right, though; just pinning the girl against a wall - no, she deserves better. You don't let her fall as you drag her into the bedroom. Not until a tumble into the sheets. She doesn’t try to control the fall, you land on top of her, and Tzuyu laughs a little, but it dies into the hard breaths you can feel bouncing back against your mouth. Her soft thighs pressed beneath your weight, quivering still.

"Fuck your cum into me," She huffs out, softly, more air than noise. You’re practically crushing her. And then the tilt of her head, almost inviting, like a question. "Please. I want it."

In hindsight, the real memory of this moment will be a soft and lovely thing - fabricated mostly: her tiny frame shaking, trembling in its effort to take you in, her voice giving out around a cry as she cums again - there's something sacred there, surely, a holiness that isn't altogether safe, considering what this girl is.

You’ll try not to remember how you fucked her and buried your face between her tits, though she did look up at you through her tears and made it sound sweet, said your name just so, or even the fact that she watched her whole body get filled and only smiled with contentment. That part won’t survive - nor the fact you’ll hold the girl down later and cum inside her three times. Until she’s leaking. Details to be confined to Mina’s cabin-secrecy - or at least, to whatever depth of oblivion, past your will to suppress it, her mind reaches when you bury your hand in her hair and pull her head back to really make sure you've hit every corner of her and left your cum there, marking her insides, turning her warm.

And look, Tzuyu doesn't balk. Instead she lets you pull her in close, her nails raking into the nape of your neck, the muscles under your skin. She drags scratches down your back as you sink into her cunt, hot, willing - she’s so fucking wet you’re bottoming out in each sloppy thrust.

"Tzu," you can't stop yourself from muttering, almost reverent. You were right, on all accounts. The girl is a problem.

One that is currently collapsing under you. You push her knees up to her elbows, and all her weight melts under your hands, limp and helpless.

"Fuck, your pussy is unbelievable.” You shouldn’t be fucking her this hard, but, well, you are - “Tzuyu, baby,” and when your hand comes up to her jaw, she palms it. Takes your thumb into her mouth and sucks. Fuck, it’s all slipping, consuming, you need to cum in her, need to bury your cock deep in her cunt and cum right into that wet sopping mess. Fill her up where she’s molten hot and her walls are gripping you so hard they’re practically begging-

"Yeah," she repeats around the digit, flitting her tongue against your fingertip. “Yeah. Cum for me.”

That's how she likes it. She'll scream, if you let her. If you give her the deepest fill. She’ll apologize and she won’t know for what. You already know how her expression will shift as soon as it hits. Head falling back. Her hands fisting in your hair, the bedding - her knees nearly get drawn up, and you push them apart by your fingertips. She whimpers, and whimpers, and you can't stop from fucking the pretty noises right out of her lungs until she's dripping - soaking you, all over the sheets. You want her to feel it when you leave. Your presence. It’s only fair - she should remember some part of you, in exchange for what she’s traded and stolen away - ideally forever.

You thumb at the tear tracks and lift her by a fistful of that pretty dark hair. And for her, you can be kind, you let your lips graze hers. As tenderly as you can manage, which isn't much, but then the angle settles lower, your cock hits deeper, all the right spots - and god, Tzuyu is so easy to fuck. She slips a little, and you’re catching her, pushing deeper, harder - she’s easy to pound too, to hold down and smother and grind deep, to have under you, all boneless, insensible-

"So pretty for me, Tzu," you growl into the shell of her ear, because you can, and another stroke, another velvety drag has you cumming in her hot, little cunt.

Each throb brings more, pumping her full of your cum, and she likes it. Keeps muttering baby, baby please in your ear, and fuck, you almost slip a hand down and make her fall apart too - but - her fingers wrap around your wrist before they get there, so tight.

"Can feel it. So deep," she whispers, when your eyelids screw shut and the mess floods out of her - gets fucked right back in: your hot cum and her thick slick, the creamy mess leaking from her cunt. You pull your cock out halfway, and she does sob - that sounds just like you'd imagine, too. "Please. Oh, my god- sir. That's it. That's it, let it out, sir. Sir, all your cum feels so good in me - please. Please- just give it to me, sir, yes-"

She’s not even taunting or mocking on that ‘sir,’ you think, not the way she sounds now, the halfway-slur. It's all torn up and tired. It makes you press closer, making the head of your cock swell between the thin walls of her pussy. It hurts - the squeeze. And then the soft, pleading sound she makes.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," you groan, a last attempt at a condescending tone. But she's so raw, so broken down by now that nothing is quite right.

"Fuck," she mutters against your mouth, "fuck, thank you," and your palm drags down the length of her sternum, following the angle of her jaw, slipping your palm onto her tits, thumbing at the indent. It's soft, pliant skin, and you pinch: not anywhere sharp or cruel, not especially sensitive, just in a line below the ridge of her rib cage, and it's too pretty a picture not to smile at her, when her entire chest jolts at the contact, the intake of breath. "Sir. Fuck."

"I'm still fucking you later," you assure her, as if her breathing could've convinced you otherwise. "But I wanna hear your voice some more. Hum a little. Give me a yes, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

The noise is barely audible, almost nonexistent, except it is: she hums her assent as you dip two fingertips back into her swollen, well-fucked cunt, scooping out some of the mess. Your fingers hook into her cheek and her mouth opens, because she's so obedient, because that's why it has to be like this.

You rub her bottom lip. Her eyes open into yours; a wet mouth. It's impossible not to see what's right there. It's easy, really, to press through and in, and give her that taste, that warm, velvety brush, like she's been sucking your cock, and maybe - oh, yeah, you'll remind her about it tomorrow, how she's a needy little slut for it, can't get enough - how you could've fucked her face until she was drooling and out-of-her mind - but the way her eyelashes flutter against your touch; the look-

You’ll take your time. You know what she wants: more than anything. It's the thing you can read. Maybe the hot, sticky mess, the flush in her cheeks. A touch to her face. Your thumb in her mouth, too, stretching, prying, holding. More cum falling beneath her tongue, dripping in those gaping, half-open red lips.

She’s licking your load from your knuckles, your Tzuyu. You can’t believe it.

"Swallow," you tell her.

"Mmm," and it’s there: this gorgeous expression on her features, her eyelids dropping, the shimmer, the shine. You'd do anything to keep it there.

You let your thumb leave the corner of her mouth and it stays open, just the tip of her tongue darting out to taste what little she can. The rest of her lulls back with a satisfied murmur, eyes half-closed, clearly the type of content-afterglow of wanting the man who'd just ruined her. A gratitude, or a simple, silly thing, if he would just pick her up in his arms: "thank you, sir."

Her panties end up back around her hips, and a new shirt's thrown haphazardly on, a soft, gray cotton which rides down, slipping past one pale shoulder. And then she turns over, to the side, her back curling into the heat of your chest. There's no attempt at leaving or any plans either. The arm you've loosely wrapped around her waist simply tugs. It's not subtle or even nice: your hand rucks up the fabric and snaps the waistband, and the soft cotton doesn't stop it from being painful.

"Fuck me again." Tzuyu shakes off with a shrug. She's wiggling her ass, practically. She's not wrong, you suppose - your cock hardens easily, more of a reaction. "Are you just going to - keep teasing?"

“Such a brat,” you say, and that makes her whole body tense; she makes the most beautiful sounds for you, but words, praise, humiliation - those always hit harder. You know your girl.

"Your brat," says Tzuyu, easily. "You can do whatever you want."

Your grip on her hip is brutal. Of course you know. That doesn't mean you can't look for loopholes, anyway, right? You don't move, but the threat's there.

The look she shoots over her shoulder is smug. "I like it rough, or something. Doesn't it make you mad that someone could've had me before?"

"Should I be?" You're swiping your cockhead through her folds before you have a chance to say, "Should I care that some guy's had my little cocksleeve before? Should I be angry that someone used my pretty toy before I got to?" You thumb at the tightness, and Tzuyu gives up the front immediately and jerks her hips backward. "If I wasn't the first?"

"Not exactly," comes Tzuyu's mild answer, "not if I was always thinking of you. Plus, they didn't make me feel like that." She tips her head up, to nip at your jaw. She's smiling so fucking coy when she adds: "please, don't hurt me too bad."

You wrap your hands around her. Press a kiss into her shoulder.

“Or do, maybe. Whatever feels natural, you know," she bites down.

"The hickeys are going to be difficult," you agree. "People are gonna see them and they'll picture themselves, probably, with you spread out, huffing, gasping - fucking you out of a brain."

"As they should," she says, and then hums this low, heartfelt note into the mattress. "So how hard can you do this, hm?" She's moaning into the pillow as you slip back into her cunt, but it's a challenge, the tilt in her voice. "Like, if I ask, real nicely."

Who’d have ever guessed she was so filthy. All hidden behind the pristine, the perfection. The prim girls are always the worst: all that beauty means more to them wrecked than revered - it means they've won, again.

Well, that works just fine. She's won you over.

You lean into her shoulder, murmuring, “you’re pushing your luck here, Tzu.”

“Am I?” Her head tilts back until it finds the curve of your jaw. Those deep brown eyes flashing. She knows what’s coming, her pussy tightening prettily. "I'm sorry, sir. I’ll clean up my act."

And the little smile. The fucking dimple, proudly stitched into her cheek - right as you pull her back onto you again, your length working its way slowly into her cunt. The way her ass fits in your hips lets you know you're no match for this girl: how unbelievably good it feels to be inside her. Hot, tight, wanting. Pressed tight between her gorgeous thighs.

“Guess I never noticed,” she says, before falling quiet with the soft punch of breath as you drag her backwards, against your body and the rocking press of your hips. Her eyelashes tremble while your cock nudges its way fully inside her pussy. The rest, as it seems, is silent: only the crash of skin, the sound of your breathing.

You’re already gathering her hair into your fist when you tug her back to your waist, mouth hovering right at the shell of her ear: "fuck, you take my dick like you're made for it. Do you even know how good your pussy feels? I'll ruin you if you let me. We can find out together," you tell her, pulling her back onto your cock. A wordless, pained, perfect whimper.

Tzuyu lets herself go slack against your chest.

She's taking you like a dream and that's it, that's enough, all you've got to say, and Tzuyu, jesus-fucking-christ, she does it with a laugh: this awful, melodic, bright, sweet, airy fucking thing: "don't fucking test me, Tzuyu -" you repeat, a warning.

Tzuyu bats those long lashes, like it'll mean anything, like this isn't all the proof you need.

"Okay. Don't tease, then.” Her hand reaches up to the nape of your neck, finds your body close and hot. She sighs. “I want to feel it, sir. So much that I can't walk after. That I'll still have you in me. I want it all to hurt. Is that too much?"

All she does is try to hide her smiles, and she's terrible at it. There's a gasp buried underneath her giggling, one that Tzuyu loses every time she moves her body with yours. There are only two conclusions now: either she's that perfect of a fuck or she's as full of shit as you are. Either way, the dimple's giving her away - her smile, her lips, the full, syrupy brown of her gaze.

Tzuyu wraps that leg up and back around you and the angle is devastating.

"Baby, I want you- I want your cock deeper - yes, baby. Deeper - as deep as it'll go. I want you to fuck me until I can’t think, until there's nothing I can do. Seriously. Fuck me."

Her hand dives over the shirt; there's no question when your gaze follows the trail she takes over her tensing body, over the curve of her breasts and down to where she's dragging at her pussy, where she's exposed herself. She finds the space and lets the fingertips flutter down, onto her needy, swollen clit; the place where your bodies join and separate; the throbbing pulse of her pussy.

"And then fuck me some more,” she adds, like that'll help. Her pussy fits you like a glove - it’s not fair. It’s not right.

But she's so beautiful up close, eyes fluttering in pure, concentrated rapture as she loses the tension in her face - one more thing that the facets, angles, and shades of Tzuyu become, something you tuck away in a vault somewhere safe; a secret just between the two of you.

Her hand runs up your thigh, fastens back on your hip. “You owe it to me, to use my body a little bit, don’t you think?”

There's no sense fighting it, not anymore - maybe there never was - and when you grip Tzuyu's upper thigh, tilt her leg upwards, she gives you an anticipatory hum. This light sound. An ankle lands over your hip, and what follows is a tight, enveloping slide, your cock buried in her wet pussy. So close together that she can't move much at all except to take it - the hard thrust, the one that forces its way up to the hilt. She's impossibly, overwhelmingly soft, a pleasure unlike any other. The absolute worst kind.

She knows exactly the danger of getting involved with you, and when she cums, once, again, and once more - her eyes water, her voice flooded - you think, so do you.

It’s in the hours of the morning that’re not quite today, nor quite tomorrow when Tzuyu leans on the end of the bed as she stretches. A loose t-shirt is draped over her petite body - you glance over at her as the bottom of the fabric lifts, exposing more skin across her legs. No matter the circumstances, the space she inhabits will always feel charged. She could wear a potato sack and have the same effect, you suppose, because that's just how she is: Tzuyu is magnetizing.

"That is definitely not yours," you say, finally.

The girl has a lovely arch to her back, a golden glow of perfection that you can't find elsewhere. That's when Tzuyu laughs and spins around. "Is that a question?"

You only have yourself to blame. Of course it's not hers. The shirt's oversized and could fit all five feet, eight inches of her like a tent. It doesn't belong to her, but her heart-shaped lips make you feel stupid, so you're giving her a second chance. You really need that shirt back. You packed light, it's your favorite tee, it’s a family heirloom, or something - whatever makes her get it off, you guess. You sit up against the bed, and watch her fingers hook into the hem as it slowly peels off from her frame.

And that is - a vision.

You already knew - but it's worth repeating, or forgetting your name and every last bit of your existence for; the sharp collarbone, the striking red lines beneath them, the palest, sweetest chest. Her breasts, a bit smaller, a bit rounder than normal (not that you would know), sit heavy in her hands, soft and full - oh, the hickeys, the perfect peaks and the bruised nipples - she's an aphrodisiac.

"I want one later," she tells you, and runs a hand over her breast, pressing against the angry red marks that color the pale skin.

"A shirt?"

She turns back toward the mirror, an image reflected tenfold - a beautiful flush on her high cheekbones. It's only a small win to think that those rosy cheeks are there because of you. Only a little one, if at all. "One of yours, sure."

You laugh, but she looks taken aback. "What, you mean like a keepsake?"

"Hey, if it smells good." Tzuyu brings up the neckline to her nose, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before they snap closed. "Yes. Like a keepsake, is that so unnatural?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are, like, really forward." You thought you knew, but there's this part of you that wonders. Why the sudden revelation. "Not that it isn't obvious. I meant...with the rest. Just to clarify."

"With sex, you mean?" Her smile turns a little sheepish. "I can tone it down a little. I don't even notice sometimes, I just talk."

You walk forward and wrap your arms around her waist. You fit easily around her. "Don't," you say, quietly, against the back of her neck. "It's nice, in a way."

She cranes her head to trade the reflection of your eyes for the real thing. Her body is soft, warm. "You like to talk too."

"Right."

"Your favorite past-time."

"Point taken." Your thumb runs down the middle of her breast and traces her nipple. It's tender, you note. You can’t really keep your hands off her waist, or stop touching her tits - because who would ever let something so delightful pass them by? Not you. No way. "Want to hear a story?"

"If it's coming from you," she whispers, a little smile, a lot of entendre, "I’ll listen to anything."

"Do you see the wall over there?" You nod to the window. She follows it with her gaze, her chin jutting towards your shoulder, her long neck arching. It's hard not to kiss it. There's a clear stretch of drywall beside her desk. She nods. "When I came here with Sana and Mina last," and your nose presses into her hair, inhaling her, the way she smells like something tropical: vanilla and citrus. Something far from here. "I put up a few paintings. I'm handy sometimes, a hammer seeking a nail sorta thing."

Tzuyu almost snorts, and sways a bit in your grasp. You tighten your hold, not wanting to drop her. "Oh?” she teases out, suggestive. “Show me."

(You shouldn’t. You can’t stop, frankly. Fucking Tzuyu is in its own category: the luxury, the treasure, the extravagance; feeling between your fingers the finest silk, the richest cashmere.

Her palms slide higher up the wall, fingers splayed. The curve of her back, the pull of her hair. Tzuyu kissing you like the world will end and the moon will be the first to know, her fists curling into your back, a furious, frantic urgency - Tzuyu fucking you. Well. Tzuyu always, always kissing you; it's the universe resetting, it's a timeline rewritten, it's trading everything sweet for salt, giving you teeth and tongue, the insides of her lip rubbed raw - she tastes like 80 Proof, a sticky, melting liquor, and it goes down too easy. "Why are you making this hard for me." It's not a question, her face in your neck - then she says, like there's a hundred other things, a hundred thousand ways you can ask:

"What makes you think I want to make this easy?")

The power goes out early in the morning.

Which means you're in the dark. But, it's alright. You consider for a moment the omen-like timing, if such an idea is ludicrous in the first place. This could be a metaphor. After all, what is Tzuyu if not a classic trope? It isn't fair to judge anyone based off their flaws. For starters, you have more than you can count. You consider a moment longer, that the timing isn't metaphor-worthy. After all, if this was a punitive force, you're certain that it would've been more apparent, more explicit, if the electric panel had burst into flames or the cable box was shot-out; something bigger, flashier, less like something that you'd play up for theatrics. And it probably would've been when you had the girl on all on fours, your handprints seared into the round of her ass-

Or, when she got on her knees. The snap of darkness setting in as you slipped your cock out of her lips and spilled a rope of hot cum on her face, in her hair. The way she just relaxed into it, a reverence to her being baptized, kneeling. “Oh, Tzu,” you said, with a fist around a cock, and jerked the rest right out on her tongue. You probably would have heard her sniffle after, still recovering from her choking a bit.

Or, when you had half a mind to kneel down between her legs in the shower, suck her clit until she was dripping, fucking her open with your tongue; you could taste her sweat, her slick, and imagine how hard it must be to put up that front: biting into a washcloth, trying not to fall apart.

(Karma arrives late, or it doesn't arrive at all. Or, something. Who knows. It doesn't matter. The outcome would have remained the same.)

Tzuyu opens the sliding glass door to the balcony.

You watch her from behind - there's a small pile of snow at the edge. The whole mountain has gone into complete darkness. No moon, no lights, no light poles, or blinking bulbs or strobe signs or house lights - just night. How eerily romantic, that. And if there was an excess amount of snow before, it only got heavier, thicker, now weighing on the steel bars of the railing.

Tzuyu rests her hands there, leaning her hips a bit forward, so far that her knees lock. Her back bends. "It's so weird," she breathes out, and you can see your exhales, both of yours. "I feel like you and I are the only ones here right now. Everyone else is probably taking shelter. Maybe the power went out for everybody."

"Maybe."

"It's all a bit spooky. Or creepy. But, exciting too, yeah?" She turns, just enough. Her fingertips run along the side of her face. "In the mountains, yes." She doesn't even need to say the rest, doesn't need to ask: does that appeal to you? All this isolation? I could scream and scream and nobody would ever hear it. I'm yours to fuck, to have, to own, to do anything to-

"It'll probably be fixed in the morning," you tell her. "Who would turn it back on tonight. To this place. They'll start at the closest areas to town and go out from there."

"Mina has a generator," Tzuyu supplies helpfully. "No living clue where."

"Want to look for it?"

She lets her head tilt, as if to follow the expanse of trees leading up into the rocky ground. "Would it kill us to wait for tomorrow?" Her bare toes curl into the floorboards. The blanket stays wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and a single line of her wrist can be seen when she tilts her arm a certain way. "We won't die or anything."

You wouldn't die, not before being smitten with a different death, falling headfirst and in love; and that's what you've felt since the start, since the beginning: you've always wanted more. It was always inevitable, her letting her weight fall backwards, in the living room - all your filthy secrets falling out. It felt like the sky had dropped. All over the bedroom floor.

"Then let's get some sleep," you say, but still step closer, as you do with anyone, to brush aside the strand of hair over her ear.

It feels like the temperature must have dropped dramatically. Not that it bothers either of you very much, you note, when you move under the blankets together. Some might feel embarrassed by the necessity, but then, most aren't half the people that you both are.

Tzuyu presses her fingers under her thigh to keep her legs shut. To avoid the cold, she claims, but you can hear the slippery noises that her cunt makes as her body shakes with each thrust of her fingers. You almost suggest that you heat her up in an entirely different fashion, but the smile, her smile, gets the best of you. Instead, you let yourself touch and trace, and feel her wherever it may land. There's no sense in pretending either, so you tangle yourself into her: a finger between her legs. Another in her palm, resting against her hip. When you press your thumb against her cunt, she begins to smile, too, as if to show you exactly what kind of person she is. That is to say, completely insatiable.

You let your free hand slip under her chin. Tilting her head up, exposing the faint pulse-points. You wonder if she's imagining the things you'd do if the snow never cleared: toying with her hair, petting the top of her head, speaking pretty and dirty and pressing kisses against her bare back, in a rhythm, as you fuck her without care - something close and tight like the little noises she makes and how they die off, finally, when you push your cock deeper, still.

There are no words between you anymore, maybe - but she's not laughing, and you're not angry, and it's only one second before your mouth is on her neck, kissing the column of her throat. It's easy to sleep with her - so, so simple, if not anything else.

"I don't have anything in the morning," you murmur to the top of her shoulder, barely moving as not to break the moment. To tell her it's fine to leave her body or keep it forever. Either way. Both, if it's an option.

She smiles. Her eyes are still closed. "It'd be weird if you did."

She can be a tease - a complete brat - sometimes. Like now. But then again, who would you be if not the person who falls for exactly that.

And that is a weakness: you have a very specific kind of hunger, that won't fade, that can only be sated. She knows it, and yet her coy grin remains. It's a habit, not a mistake. "Yeah, well," you lean up onto your forearm, pressing the knuckles of your right hand against her soft cheek. "This is the most inconvenient of all places, but- don't worry about it."

"Meaning?"

"I don't think they sell birth control or morning after pills or anything up here," you explain, lightly. Your gaze passes from her eyes to the pink of her bottom lip and back, again.

"Do I look like I'd care?" Tzuyu sighs and takes your wrist, pulling your arm over her body. "I know what I'm doing," she adds, which might actually be a lie. "Obviously. You don’t need to pretend you’re like, responsible, or whatever."

Yes, obviously. As if it was all as easy as pulling strings, deciding exactly which points to tease, to stress. You should know. You just kissed and held down and fucked and fucked your cum into this one: you know how to move her strings better than any.

You flip the switch in the kitchen. Up, down, up, down: except, nothing. The electricity is still decidedly off by mid-morning, and you and Tzuyu end up having actual, quality, conversation.

You sit her on the kitchen counter - though it’s not fated to last long, because her legs loop around your waist, and she tugs your sweats down as you try to fix the two of you lunch - Tzuyu gets what Tzuyu wants, of course - so you're standing there fucking her while her head leans back on the cool marble, her silky dark hair tumbling off the end of the counter.

She ends up propped up on one elbow. Eyes hazy and half-lidded, fixed on the glide of you into her creamy folds, spreading her wider, wider.

Tzuyu asks questions - all innocuous, at least to the ear. About your past. Who you were before all this. Whether you want kids, when, whether you were religious, once. She gets personal before you have her cumming and incoherent: how you sleep, in what positions. How often you jerk yourself off. What you're thinking of when you do. How you'd use her - not the lewd version, the spitting, filthy iteration, just the you and her and her being yours part. And she gets specific about that. She'll slide up to you and bury her nose in your throat, wrap her arms around your shoulders, mumble about wanting you closer - you feel her, maybe more than you should - but every few seconds you're sliding home into that pussy and her chest heaves out a deep breath-

"I want what's in here," she finally says, her delicate palm cupping your balls. She's pulling you into her on each stroke like the fucking sun's gone out and this is her last chance - she's magnetism, gravity, a blackhole you'd give up the rest of the universe to. She's got one fist on your shirt, and the other hand on your sack, and her pussy's fluttering around you, and she's watching you watching her, and it's infinity:

"The idea of you." Tzuyu smiles at the way your eyes narrow, the way the word turns itself over and over on your mind, her. She tilts her face to look at your expression. "Like, in here. All your cum. There's so much. Can I please have it-"

You swear.

"Pretty please, baby," Tzuyu's asking if you'll fill her up, if you'll make her your cumdump, keep fucking her even with all your cum inside her, asking what the worst of your fantasies are - you fuck harder, deeper, and she nods eagerly, tightens that fist in your shirt. "Can you give it to me? Please, it's the only thing I need, and we both know I always need something, please."

"Jesus fucking christ," you tell her, helpless, and it's never felt better: her cockwarming on your lap, her teasing and teasing until your self-control's paper thin - won't you? won't you? fucking breed this slutty little cunt? won't you cum until I'm so full it's spilling out-

The snap. Like falling, it’s something you notice right away, but only ever understand a long ways down.

"Yours," moans Tzuyu, half in an accusatory fashion - fuck - she's almost gasping: "fuck - just use me, use your cumdump, 'cause you'll never have a tighter cunt than this."

God. Damn. Her. You cum so hard it aches, and there's no hesitation:

"My cocksleeve, my good girl, shit-"

"You could leave a baby in me, even, just like that. Couldn't you. Isn't that hot. And nobody could do a fucking thing." Tzuyu’s tits are spilling out the sides of her camisole and she looks like pure porn, in person. Your cum is dripping out of her and you watch as it spills on the marble.

"Is that what my girl wants?

She smiles, again, so prettily.

“You wanna be full of cum, is that it?" You grab Tzuyu's hair; pull just enough to get the point across. "Is that it? You're a perfect cumslut who needs all that fucking cum, huh? Wants it pumped deep? You like being full of it, right Tzu? This needy little cunt loves the thought of getting bred? Knocked up? Goddamn, Tzu."

"That's me," agrees Tzuyu, in the afterglow. Dimple dug deep. "Yeah. Your personal cumslut, sir."

She just grins when you reach between her thighs, pressing your fingers into the cum you've fucked into her, before you decide that the wet warmth is yours and you’re going to fuck her even further into delirium.

Her hips come up off the granite, desperately.

"Uh-huh," she mumbles, already drifting - you put her off her balance, for real. "God, yes, please," she's whispers, as if all the ways you'd ruin her were prayers, like she wants to start a new religion all her own: you're a god, and it's all about Tzuyu - just you, and her, asking, again, the questions piling on top of other ones, the sweet drawl, the sinful want, the curiosity-

Fuck. She wants everything about you, your dirty secrets and your nice manners - the stories behind your scars, your funny little quirk of raising just one eyebrow at a time-

You turn her around. She's made for this, intelligently designed: her tiptoes just touching the floor, the delicious curve of her lower back, your cock sliding effortlessly into her and hitting a spot she arches into like it's divine intervention and that pussy making its first church of your name. The cum you'd already left in her cunt is making everything wetter, making those obscene sounds echo in the space around the two of you. It's rapturous; you let her feel it slow, and deep, and it’s bliss.

“Tighter,” you growl into her ear, and her cunt clenches like you own it.

The girl's figure is pristine, an ass that belongs under spotlights, on camera; those thick lips, the curtain of her hair when she tips her chin down. It's all been in magazines, billboards, it's been idolized - she is the icon and you're the follower, but, this weekend, here and now-

"So. Fucking. Good-" she gasping, falling apart. She’s collapsing and it’s not even noon.

"Oh, the world knows." You pull her up, hold her body in yours and snap into her cunt. Her skin's hot, feverish, the light that filters through the blinds and the snow slows outside.

It all happens without a moment’s notice - Tzuyu reaches behind and clutches your thigh, as if she could ever pull you deeper, like it wouldn't tear her in half. But you find yourself in a position to grab the edge of the counter; your phone buzzes. It's Sana, probably asking what's up. You want to ignore it and keep fucking Tzuyu from behind. You want to hold her hips, be mindful of the marks, the bruises, sink your fingers into her hair, her tits - you end up murmuring things like please and fucking perfect and if we were a little more religious then you'd be a sin to remember-

Fuck, you're cumming again. The writing’s on the wall as soon as your cock makes her breath draw short and her eyelids snap shut. She’s exquisite, a masterwork - you’re painting in broad strokes, all over the beautiful curves of her ass - not only because you’ve needed to see it cast in hot streaks of white, all debased with your cum, but simply to prove a point; to say that you can. You cum on her cheeks, her cunt, you pump your fist around your shaft and cum in the crotch of her panties too.

"That's it, Tzu," you croon, "look at that," your spent cock twitching against her plush thighs, her dripping pussy lips, and she's sagged forward, onto the counter, your thumb running through a particularly thick rivulet. Her face dips down, pressed to the cold surface, and the words coming out aren't coherent, are just filthy and true; but they're there: she's taken you and kept you, all for herself.

(Thank you, she says, for making me into your little cockwarmer, your toy, for breaking my fucking cunt, baby - thank you, please, thank you-

You could end your career tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Just saying, man. This girl, fuck.)

There’s a beat, the strained breathing, the panting, the disbelief. She ends up kissing your chin after sliding back to her feet, a saccharine imitation of chaste. Pulls up her shorts without a second's consideration. Her panties, still sticky with your spend - well. She puts those back, too, grinning dreamily.

Oh, how is a woman like Tzuyu even real, huh? You really do need to find out, somehow.

"Your imagination is…" you say, your tone flat. “I swear.” But you don't deny that the sex isn't. You don't think of her that way. She doesn't ask you for your hopes or your dreams or the full gambit of life, as some people might. She asks about what you think about at three am when she's got one hand on her tits and one on her clit and one finger in her mouth:

"Anything we can think of," she corrects, her long limbs squeezing her tighter to your front. Her grin bright, so perfect she's beyond believable, and how can such a dissonance exist in something, someone, you're holding on to? "I mean, we can if you want."

"Maybe we'll talk about that - how you can handle me," is what Tzuyu rasps, softly, tying her hair up afterwards: and you realize this is her post-coital. For her, sex makes her nice. Sweet.

You've already fixed her lunch; Tzuyu comes to sit down at the table with you. "Like, for future reference." You're raising an eyebrow. She grins at that, kicks her feet. Her hips don't do the same, though - no doubt still a little sore, like her lips. She's worn out, finally. She won't try to slice off and claim any more of your aching soul.

“You have no business thinking about babies.”

“Tell that to my ovaries.”

"You have a breeding kink, is what it is, really. I’m being completely serious."

"Well, am I pregnant yet?" Tzuyu flutters those lashes, puts those big pretty eyes on full display. "No? Then I'm getting off on something else, clearly, isn't it obvious, like maybe there's something about being on the other end of someone so big. Have you considered how wet you make me when you-"

"Tzuyu, cut it out," you chide her. The little brat's giggling. You aren’t going to let her know how pretty the noise is.

"Fine." She reaches across the table, puts her small hand on your larger one. "Like I said - how to handle me." Her tone is placating, the sharp edge to her personality blunted. It's different with Tzuyu - after sex, she gets like this: playful, easy, fond. The mess you've just made, the cunt you've stuffed full, that's another Tzuyu altogether. "For your... benefit."

"My benefit, really?"

"Aside from getting my brains fucked out," she explains, "is what I meant."

"Not making this easier, babe."

Her mouth curves a slow smile. She likes when you call her names, cute shit like that.

"I need to call Sana back," you explain, finally.

Tzuyu nods.

"In a bit," you add. "Also," you're saying, leaning forward. Her head tilts toward yours.

She's receptive, her whole body pliant and lazy, after that, well, marathon - she'll roll with whatever you're suggesting. This has always been a dream to her, she's mentioned. (Who has dreams like that? Someone so young, that innocent - well, yeah.)

But you kiss her temple, lightly. "Gimme a minute."

Tzuyu blinks, in that catlike way she has of staring, intent. Her mouth slightly pouty.

"Then you get your turn," you offer.

"Deal," she nods.

And that makes her beam - your beautiful, very good, very perfect, little toy.

"You're going to have to slow down," you tell Sana over the phone. "I have zero reception up here, sorry."

"The highway is shut down, I literally can't get to the other side of town," she yells over the sound of tires rolling on snow. Sana does not sound in the best spirits. If anything, she sounds slightly desperate. "Part of the mountain collapsed on a cliff somewhere. Fuck's sake. The weather is still terrible and they're shutting everything down. Literally shuttering every road off the base of the mountain."

"You sound good," you deadpan, and when Sana grumbles, say, "try the next exit, head around and take a back road-"

"Yeah, except it's snowing like nobody's fucking business right now - I'm not going to risk exposure to try to get there on my own."

"What should I do?" you try, a bit helpless. "Stay here?"

"Why are you even asking," Sana scoffs, "yes, stay there, stupid. Tell Tzuyu you can't drive in snow, that she can't possibly expect me to deal with any of you leaving a safe situation." There's another brief pause. "Ah, seriously, there is not a single living human being near here that can be helpful - and they're supposed to bring us new tires? Here? No, fuck's sake."

"Oh," is all you say.

"Don't worry about me." Sana's voice goes up a notch. "Just be there, alright? Stay warm, okay?" A crackle, more radio waves or distance.

"Text me," you urge. "Tell me you're getting in safe."

"Of course, of course," and that's when you get the click, the abrupt disconnection. You stare at the device in your hand and consider the possibilities, and the outcomes, and how to stay sane while alone with temptation incarnate for a couple nights.

Maybe this really is hell. Or it's a trial. There’s the storm, and there’s your angel, contextually out of place. You're incapable of controlling yourself, clearly.

You sigh, let your gaze slide. The lights are still out, and in their absence, Tzuyu has dragged every available blanket or bed sheet within her reach into the living space, spread a dozen pillows across the sofa and is now occupying one of the corners: there's a book, opened onto her lap, as her nails run circles down the blanket draped over her lower back.

"Tzu, what exactly did Mina mention to you about the generator," is the first thing you blurt, upon entry, and Tzuyu smiles, holding up the page against the fading daylight - which is currently hardly much. "Better question: how are you able to read in the dark?"

"Takes a lot to shake me off, honestly,” she says, which you already know to be true. “Also my eyes aren't old like yours, so."

"Wow."

"What?" Tzuyu grins, tilts her chin. "Do you want me to say that you're ageless? Thirty, flirty and thriving. So impressive, your youthful vigor, that sort of deal? How attracted I am to your experience," the insinuation, this sudden intimacy. She laughs. "Seriously. Let me read."

"Apparently we're going to be stranded for a few days."

"That's cute." She pauses. "Sucks for Sana."

"You don't know what sucks for Sana."

She peeks over the corner of the page, then, grinning, the teeth of a joke. "What's on the menu, then? Hm? So far, the best part was waking up beside you," and you almost grin, at how honest she manages to be without seeming conceited. How shameless Tzuyu has become in the ways of liking you, and maybe a bit of who she thinks you are. And why that's dangerous, really, and it makes the guilt burrow down beneath your ribs a bit: "my ass hurts," she's complaining now, which is only going to encourage the teasing-

"As it should," you comment, then watch her eyes sharpen, glint with mischief. "Oh," you realize, with a shrug, "do we get to cuddle again."

(Let's hope, for a moment, this isn't really karma. Because really, it'd just be an uncalled-for injustice: Chou Tzuyu delivered down on all fours, head tucked into your thighs as a fist grabs a handful of her hair, a slow push and pull - your cock sinking into the velvet warmth between her lips, again, again, and again until she's ruined and crying and still swallowing you whole - as she, not the universe, forces a massive dose of her own medicine down your throat. You see how that might not be quite fair.)

"But I'll have to leave again," you're protesting - no heat, no vitriol. "There's, like. Stuff I gotta grab."

"Then grab me," she sighs, pats her lap, "read over my shoulder. Make out with me. Just keep me warm. That'd be very helpful, and I would be so grateful."

Well, fuck. You're not one for inflating egos - at least not anybody else's - especially when, unchecked, that tends to do the exact opposite of keeping them grounded.

"Fine," you're muttering, and you clearly have a habit for capitulation wherever Tzuyu is concerned, the quirk in her lips, the quiet pride in her dimple, the cadence in her speech - which she's already smug about.

"Wonderful." She taps the back of her fingernail against a book page, waits, just a few more seconds, her grin spreading as you begin to fumble around. "Please," she says, flicks her gaze back down, a tease, "take all the time you need."

The thing about mountain air is it has a way of clearing your head, cooling down the frenetic thoughts of indecision and uncertainty and moral conflict.

Well, maybe that's a slight overreach, the mountains also have a way of getting you killed, but the intention was to look upon the white caps and ponder. It didn't work.

You eventually find the generator. You hear the clicks of metal and electrical wiring, the roar of the motor kicking on, a steady hum. Then, Tzuyu pokes her head out from behind the shed, her cheeks tinted a warm pink; her eyebrows rise up a beat.

"Yes?" you prompt.

"Is it working?"

"Does it look like it's working, miss?"

"Looks a-okay to me," and she presses the heel of her mitten into her teeth, tries to bite it back down her wrist; she stumbles, a moment, slightly clumsy in the snow. You instinctively reach out. Your hands brush the outer seam of her pajamas, the heavy fabric of her coat - "oh," you can feel the instant the shivers start, "fuck, I'm cold.”

“We’re both probably pretty due for a hot shower,” you say.

"Yeah, you came in my hair. Er, sorry, I meant, we both need a hot shower."

"It was really adorable when you were rutting back on my dick like some horny animal," you snort. "Admit it."

"No comment."

"So shy."

Her smile cracks open, and her breath is a white plume. "Fuck you."

"Sure, babe," you're agreeing, the tone almost saccharine. "If you insist."

She blinks back in mild surprise, the blatant answer - and god, her fucking eyes: soft, dark, her eyelids barely lift up. Even when they should've narrowed. That was another thing to learn. (Maybe, god - who knows, maybe she's still learning how not to care.)

She runs a hand through her hair. The scarf around her neck is fluffing up. There's white clumps settling on the fibers, slowly dissolving into a damp mess.

"Listen," Tzuyu murmurs, wraps an arm around yours to help herself up.

Your palm settles on the round of her thigh. She shifts, her hand dropping lower - tugs at your arm until she has an elbow in hers. The backs of her knuckles settle against your hip bone, her fingertips sliding across the waistband: you walk backwards through your snowprints, gently - the side door to the cabin is unlocked - Tzuyu's stumbling toward it.

"Going to the shower, we're turning the water on," she explains. You grin, feel your own arm, a slow drag around her lower waist; she tilts into it, steps closer. Presses a finger to your chest: "dinner's gonna be in half an hour," she announces, "and before you ask, I've been craving those boxes of instant mac & cheese in Mina's pantry."

"I haven't had one of those in ages."

"Me neither," and with her heel, she kicks the side door shut; Tzuyu yanks on a cord, pulls the blinds closed. It's pitch black. You're chuckling low, turning around - one of Tzuyu's hands smacks over a nearby light switch, illuminating the room just a shade lighter than it was prior. She presses a hand to your chest, a single-minded goal to your front.

You put your hands on her hips.

"It's the kinda thing that makes me feel like a kid again," you hear her say, just slightly; that, and how the white fabric of her sweater twists, pulled to a single point.

"Happens," is the best explanation you can give. She slaps the lightswitch again. Kisses you. You shove a leg forward. She whines. "Be good," you're chiding, though you both stumble until her back is pressed against the wall. "You were just complaining that you're still sore."

"Maybe I can't help it, maybe that's all on you," the end of the sentence fades. Her nails slide up the sleeve of your arm. There's the soft hitch of a moan. "It's just you. So unfair." She rubs up. Swallows like it's instinct, at the slightest hint of friction. You curl your hand, your thumb grazes the waistband of her underwear; her fingertips tighten, her blunt nails sink deeper - press like she means something else, wants something more.

It'll be a few days, at least, more likely a week; and by then, this girl will have you right where she needs you. She's proven, time after time - you can never just say no.

The days bleed together after the snow.

You fuck her, but slower; sometimes softer, a little less raw, the hurt. Not that you'd ever try to take too much: the thought is unthinkable, un-imagined. Infinitely impossible. You'll pull out and empty everything you have, paint her skin, make her ache, fuck until you know exactly where the bruises are and how to touch them, how to breathe the hurt down from her ribs.

But some mornings: she rolls over onto her side, opens her eyes and smiles. Brilliant like the sun, something that would warm your heart even without trying. Some afternoons, you put the fire on; read something aloud from Mina's bookshelves, and watch the red-orange flames turn Tzuyu's cheeks and neck pink and honey. Evenings, especially the colder ones, you're wrapping her up, blankets, sweatshirts, pulling her close: into bed with the lights turned off. She wants the touch, she craves it, she'll almost whimper when you get near her - and it's you, whispering words against her ear; tracing fingertips lightly against her temple, down the nape of her neck, her lower lip-

"How come you don't kiss me, hm?" She sounds sleepy. "Baby. Don't pretend you're a stone. Like, an unfeeling brute."

"I have my limits, princess."

"Like not kissing someone you're fucking." Her face drops from your sight, and Tzuyu turns over: she curls into her comforter, and her legs nudge the back of yours. "That's so fucking cruel," her voice a little whiny. "But okay, okay - tell me the reasons. Just so we can keep going."

"Keep going, huh. Even though I'm mean."

"Well, yeah, I've done much, much worse," the worst, if you think about it; and it's almost true. Maybe her morality was on the rocks long before yours. "Obviously."

You drop a kiss into her hair. "We both know what that mouth of yours is capable of."

She grins into your skin. Presses her lips, like a sign, and stays.

A girl like her inspires the worst in a man, and that's just about it: you think a man would burn the world down for her, with her, and maybe that would be how all things end, someway, somehow - not because of him or her, the full spectrum of his intentions, all the intricacies and subtleties, and hers too. You're both complicated creatures, sure; both very capable and wanting. Of big feelings, deep attachments: the overflow of your good hearts, perhaps; or, rather: the deficits.

She appeals to your worst impulses, in the plainest terms.

"Jesus Christ," you hiss, hands firm on her lower back; your voice breaking; Tzuyu has shed the bedsheets and climbed into your lap, one leg bent at the knee, digging the other into your ribs - her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.

"Tell me that's good," she murmurs, hips gyrating, rocking her pussy along your cock. "Like that - right?"

"Fuck- yes," your cock slides into her, your entire length, the rest of the world fogged out: even the fire is quiet. "God, tzu. Feels amazing."

Tzuyu rolls her body forward, rides you with ease, and puts one small hand against your mouth. Her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.

"I want to make you cum," she says, all quiet determination and wily confidence, "only you." She rolls her hips in your lap and then finds it: the steady, rhythmic grind down, down. Her ass crashes into your balls; the first telltale sign of that wonderful orgasm to come. "Is it wrong to want this? Like, you and I? Fuck. It feels like your cock was made for me."

"Yeah,” you grit, “fucking you feels - like it's meant to be, huh?"

"Sir," she says with an unhealthy smirk. She’s loving this more than you are, and you can’t really blame her for it: there’s no other sound quite like the slick, wet noise that her pussy makes as her body drops to yours, your cock filling her completely. It's music to your ears.

You grab at her ass, her hip, and pull her closer. She smiles, tilts her face down to you.

"Me too, you know, me too," she murmurs, kissing you softly; when you cup her breasts her breath hitches. "God- fuck- just-"

When she does cum, it's with the faintest little groan; a small, intense quiver in her thighs. You kiss her to swallow down the sound; and feel yourself tip over, and when she fucks you through your orgasm - her smile is dark, wicked, totally satisfied.

And everything else follows, because you're weak: because she makes you want to say no, even while simultaneously being your very favorite yes. You warm your cock inside her with some slow, gentle rhythm, her nipples hard against your shirt, her cries as sweet and earnest as all the best promises; a slow grind down, her fingers scrabbling for the headboard, you lean and lick her breasts, roll her nipples on your tongue - she gasps, tenses, digs her nails hard into your nape.

You'll have her again in the morning, she's adamant.

Her hands find your back, her legs circle your hips. The taste of her sweat. The taste of her nipples; her chest flushed, hair disheveled, pupils blown.

"Not letting me go." She whispers. Her cheeks are a lovely pink. "Even after this?"

You kiss the corner of her mouth, inhaling, wondering what to say.

"Good," Tzuyu tells you, tilting her jaw: "that's really-" She catches her lips with her teeth. "That's so fucking good."

(Her pussy grips your cock like it's the home she's always missed, her lifeline, her safe harbor. And it's dizzying, it's heaven, hell; and, in the morning - when everything is sepia-warm and sleepy - you fuck her again.

A promise, a hope, a plea. It's what makes a girl fall for a guy, in theory.

It's what makes her heart beat. )

"My phone's charging," Tzuyu sniffs the next morning: you're brushing out her hair. The sheets are warm.

You continue combing.

"Sana told me she would be texting, or trying to call."

"Well, that's nice," is all you can manage.

"Babe-" she leans back a bit: turns her gaze to the ceiling, exhaling sharply, "what if she got caught in a whole different avalanche, or fell from the top of a mountain, or something-"

You let go, letting her rest her weight against your thigh. "Honestly? Would serve her right. A little cold, a little damp-"

"If you don't take that back-"

"Alright. Alright. I'll send an apology prayer when I get around to it."

"No you won't." She curls in further, and you stroke her neck, shoulder blade; down the ridges of her spine, across the width of her back.

Tzuyu shudders slightly under your touch.

"Haven't I earned enough good faith, or a clean conscience?"

"Sir, don't pretend."

"Let's pray for Sana, then," you mutter. "Wherever the fuck she is."

"With respect," Tzuyu pipes up, eager: "bitch ain't found."

"Jesus.” You laugh out loud. “At least your brain isn't fully turned to mush, yeah?"

"Give yourself some credit. I can hardly fucking walk. You really pounded the feeling in my legs away."

"Too bad."

"Sorry." And she noses at your collarbone, tugging the waistband of your boxers; "feel free," the drawl of an old, forgotten song, "to make me repent. Baby. Do your thing."

"Right, I forgot that I could convince you to do anything by sliding my dick in your throat. Yikes."

"Baby, just, uh- do whatever." Tzuyu grabs hold of your cock through the thin fabric: one light tap of a finger, "my lips are numb," the suggestion. You really could be her everything: and maybe if you said, stop, please, you won't. She'd pause; look at you like you're insane and maybe spit out what the actual fuck is wrong with you. Like the reality:

This doesn't have to end, no?

"Sorry about your phone battery," you tell her, brushing out the knot at the base of her skull. She exhales, goes soft; lets you tug lightly. "We’ll figure things out when Sana can actually text you, okay?"

"Dumbass. When it's warmer and you drive down to meet her."

"You're not jealous," you tell her. You’ve decided for her.

Tzuyu rolls, leans down on her back, smiling prettily-

"Nope," she agrees, pulling your cock out: already hard, ready to cum down her throat. Her fingers pump soft, slow, the anticipation- "just not done."

"Crazy."

She shrugs and lets the silence calm the world around the two of you; at least for a little while. "Takes a certain kind," she agrees.

"Permissiveness. Like what I'm seeing. Your brand or whatever."

"It’s straight from the heart." She shoots up, making a face you want to kiss. "Honestly."

"Absolutely sincere," you deadpan, and she ignores the jab.

"Tie a bow with my hair," she chuckles, the laughter light, and your fingers graze her temple. "Come on. I'll make you so proud. So pleased. Sir. Let me, let me-"

"Only if I can finish down your throat," you retort - half-joking, but, her eyes grow warm, molten, the lust is immediate - you tip her head, lower it gently - she bites down onto her lip, nods a bit.

You don't take her right away. Not at first. You’re trying to show some restraint, trying not to think about how Tzuyu wears clothes like a vice. She's that kind of girl. Like an accident waiting to happen. She's moving around the kitchen later, poking about the cabinets. She's slid into some jeans that fit her a little too well, and one of those obscenely thin t-shirts.

You watch her back muscles work, how the cotton bunches as she leans, arms extending. Her chest's flat against the counter to grab whatever item's out of her reach. You catch the ribbon in her hair bob slightly back into place when she stands back up. The hairline on the nape of her neck catches a long highlight of a morning, the thin strands a brilliant brown, a spark of warmth in the midst of a muted winter morning - and it's honestly amazing to look at.

(Her ass hangs out in the open like an invitation. Your eyes are running down every curve of denim like they can't help but search.)

"Tzu," is the warning, and she flashes a grin; turns, the expression shifting, wide. "I can literally see everything you have."

"Hm." The front of her shirt lowers, too - her black bralette, barely a scrap of lace and string, visible through the thin fabric. "If I'd known you'd like that so much, you could've told me earlier."

"It's not your job to figure me out."

"Well, I'm not sorry." The words are sugar sweet, with an almost fake concern: her feet pivot, her ass filling your vision- Tzuyu spreads her hands down her outer thighs.

"Be nice," you reiterate. "C'mere."

Her legs snap to you quick.

You are careful, tentative and slow. You leave the ribbon in place and everything; just your mouth, like you have a right to lick down her breasts, her stomach, her clit - like you deserve the faint marks where your hands pressed down onto her waist.

The slow licks, the soft kisses; you could eat her out until the sun sets and Tzuyu was left sobbing through the overstimulation. Her fingers rake your hair like it’s exactly what she’s hoping you’ll do.

When Tzuyu does let go: she doesn't drop. There is no shame, nor shameful whimpers. Instead, she fucking screams, so high and clear it doesn't seem possible: a singer's wail.

"Sir!" she's crying, you can feel it through every tremble. "Oh my god, please-"

You get her to climax twice before the tears fall, your fingers tracing her spine, pressing deeper, a knuckle, then two-

She looks at you in abject reverence, "God, you don't know," is the gasp, "how perfect you are," and you're sure. You'll never get it right again: at least, not without her.

She cums a third time, shivering, collapsing: her eyes wide, glossy, breath shallow, limbs giving in. The sweat clings to her like a lover, a life she doesn't know how to leave.

So, you ask:

"What now, doll?"

Her tongue sweeps the corner of her mouth, a tiny wrinkle.

"Whatever," Tzuyu exhales. "Fuck, whatever, seriously, that was like- amazing- but my throat is actually going to murder me."

"Was the screaming really that necessary."

"Not sure- about anything," is the groggy admission, "like, honestly. Too horny to care, but." She pauses for a second. "You," she finally decides.

"I," is the immediate reply.

"I’ll let you do - anything, but I- can I, like, get a breather? For a minute. Can you wait, like, just."

Her arms open: you settle against her side, and a shaky hand starts combing through your hair. Her other palm lifts to rest against your cheek, cupping it. The nails tap gently along your hairline.

"Been waiting so long, Tzu, honey," and it doesn't sound as cruel or glib as the slip up should be construed - doesn't even bother to count on forgiveness, either. Maybe you're beyond all of that, honestly, and more or less in love, as a result. It’s kind of fucked. What’s a minute more?

She laughs softly, a cough catching up and sounding pained. She's lost her voice, the poor thing, she’s cummed herself hoarse and ragged and you’re proud of your handiwork.

"Honey," you hear her say, and she shakes, pulls herself closer, kisses you back: like the old, gentle motion can ever fully cure the fever of desire that grips the two of you. It's a pipedream, and you're kissing her. It's a pipedream, and you know it.

The calls start coming in after the sun sets and the cabin grows cool with the dark: you feel, faintly, that it's inevitable. That the snow would clear and time would start marching on, a predetermined cycle. (That, maybe, something in the universe - at this stage, almost a hundred years of weather, tectonic plates, astronomical phenomena, interconnected - knew the two of you needed that bit of seclusion.)

"I dunno, just some bog-standard hotel, holiday suites or something. The point is: the roads don’t open until tomorrow and I've been holed up for a while." Sana sighs into the phone. The static pops. "Oh my god, I'm bored out of my mind. I've had like, three full bags of crisps in one sitting, which is just plain wrong."

"You're basically living off carbs." You say this from in front of the fireplace. Tzuyu is sitting on the opposite side of the couch paging through a stack of magazines, wearing a big jumper and sweats and socks pulled up to her knees. Her hair is falling around her shoulders in soft waves, and it makes her look small and domestic and a bit docile - she’d re-tied the ribbon in her hair after you’d fucked it off her, and that more or less completes the look.

"Yes, I have gone off the deep end. A tragic, awful spiral. Because you're not here. Fuck, you have no idea."

"Ah- Sana." You stop. Take a deep breath.

"Do you have any idea? The state of me right now? seriously. I packed so many fucking condoms and the idea of bringing them back home is more defeating than anything else." She lowers her tone a little, then adds, "because, not to be weird, I was kinda sorta hoping we might use them when I got up there."

You blink. Tzuyu isn't even pretending to look anywhere else. Her whole face is shifting into a satisfied expression, and when she catches you looking, she winks.

"Right. Now this might sound like a surprise," Sana is continuing, her voice full of amusement, "but when I get stuck somewhere, alone and thinking about the weather- I'm often in need of a fuck. Please be prepared to service, because god damn, I've got nothing and it's gonna have to be the battery."

"Is that Sana?" Tzuyu interrupts, the tone hushed, but lofty.

You make a face, like: who the fuck else - but that makes her smirk; Sana sighs, then laughs.

"So if you like, you know. If you feel like the vibe is there. I'd appreciate the hand out."

Tzuyu walks over: sets herself down between your feet and kisses your knee. Just to fuck with you. Because she wants to. She holds the kiss, the bow in her hair, done up tight and shiny, visible. You want to tug the stupid thing until it unravels; all your fingertips, her lips, and she sighs-

"Oi," Sana's saying on the line. You can hear her crash onto her bed. "You still there?"

"I'm sorry," you say, "are you uh, asking for phone sex - or did I totally read that all wrong."

"Nope. Pretty direct." Sana laughs, and the sound should make it easy to close your eyes, picturing it: a silver smile, the low slung skirt and a stretch of stockinged leg, the twinkle of a drink as the ice hits her mouth. It’d be easy, y'know, if your gaze wasn't pinned on the girl who's settled at your feet.

"Oh, jesus, okay," you manage to breathe. Tzuyu hums a little: reaches for your fly. "Is there anything, anything that you want me to do?"

Sana's laughter drops to a murmur: the air goes heady as Tzuyu parts the zipper and rolls down the waist of your pants- "ask me what I'm wearing, duh."

"Boring," Tzuyu breathes into the air. Because apparently Sana's defining trait is being loud. The kiss to your clothed cock is hot, teasing - her eyes never lift away, "always, always start with, 'darling, sweetheart,' or something stupid, sweet." Her tone is pure syrup: you can feel the warm, the wet; a fucking tease, all the way to her core.

"What are you wearing, darling?" you ask, dryly. Tzuyu rolls her eyes.

Sana's grin widens and you swear it's audible, "oh, just these boring pajamas." She draws it out slow and sexy and completely aware. "It's all loose cotton, and it doesn't hang off me, just folds."

"Is it the type that comes down to the mid-thigh? The white kind, where you can see through to the skin?"

"That's a little presumptive, don't you think? A bit on the nose? Yeah, fine, I'm wearing the kind, if you absolutely insist. These legs, bare. Maybe you'd want to bite. Y'know. Mark 'em'. Whatever."

Tzuyu is kissing the outline of your shaft. Pulling your hard-on out from its confines - all gentle and tentative. Her pretty brown eyes dart upward, gauging: okay, just do your thing - you shrug - but it'd be so helpful if you could scoot to the end of the cushion for me, can you-

"Yeah," you're agreeing into the phone, somewhat vague - to no one in particular. You don't give Tzuyu just an inch; instead, you lift your thighs toward her. Sliding, Tzuyu pulls your pants down: enough. There's a delicate pressure applied at the bottom of your cock, right at the base, right where Tzuyu drags her nails. "Let's have that show off a little," your breath comes shallow, "then. Strip, real slow. We can try for something sexy I guess."

"You," Tzuyu kisses the base and shuffles up the rest of your shaft, "just love bossing people around," then her lips part: the slightest graze, then warmth, the faint suction. “Don’t you?”

"Uh-huh," says Sana, and then the rustle of cloth: and you could imagine her, really, lifting the shirt up, off, sliding it along the inside of her ribs, over the tips of her breasts - she'd cup them, lean into the contact. Sana's hands are always on her tits, or the spread of her hips - she likes the shape of her body more than anyone else. "Sometimes, that's the best way," she tells you. Her breath is hot, full of sex. "Being told what to do. Isn't that true, hm?"

Tzuyu tilts forward, lets your cock drop over her bottom lip. It leaves a smear of spit in its wake, the sensation electric. Her head falls, swallows the whole of the tip: her tongue immediately swirls. A hot little pulse. Her cheeks hollow.

"Yeah. Some could probably argue," your breath catches, the weight of the sensation, the fullness, your hips arch, your spine straightens. The electricity goes through your stomach and down your spine; you can feel the wave rolling along. Tzuyu giggling into the stiff line of your cock-

"Telling us both?" Tzuyu smiles again, running her lips slowly up and down the sides, teasing with her breath and her fingers running down the ridges. "What you want." She hums low, into the hot air.

You press your phone to your neck. "Can you, like-

Tzuyu pulls her mouth off your cock. Just sits there blinking. “Hm?” she asks, tugging a strand of her hair from the corner of her mouth.

“Just please stay quiet, or something- this is already harder than I thought it would be," the joke is as unsubtle as they come, "jesus, okay-" and put the phone back to your ear, "shit, Sana- can you, like-"

Her fucking mouth. The seal, the press - the tongue swirling around your head. Fuck.

“Yeah, babe? What do you want to know?”

The words aren't coming and a very obvious swallow is, Tzuyu leaning closer, and her fingers tangle with yours - guiding you closer, guiding your hand to the ends of her hair.

"Explain," is somehow where you land, shaky. You stick the landing just enough that Sana might buy it. "What are you doing now?"

"Slow circles. On my nipples, pinching," her voice strains, then settles,"yeah, the tip's so sensitive. Jihyo was laughing that guys always obsess over her tits. Always wanna suck, or nibble and I'm like, girl, what the hell are you complaining for?" - Tzuyu inhales a huge breath, and then another: her lips, those eyes - open and glossy, every movement steady like she knows just how to make the wait worth it - "or, or maybe I'm just weird, because the first time I felt someone's teeth and their tongue. Fuck, like, I almost screamed. Or, cried. Literally."

"Hah," and Tzuyu brings her lips lower. Moves her hair gently out of the way to take the rest of you into her mouth: bobbing up, her lips puckering in some rhythm, and her tongue darts, swirls the edge of the cock. Tongue at the slit. The pressure. Fuck, your head falls back. Every breath sounds heavy, loud. "Fingers,” you huff, “are good too I'm sure. I’d be paying close attention. Making you feel good."

"Mhm." Sana agrees. "The little pinches, ugh, I could die happy if you did just that, it's that fucking amazing."

"Baby," you half-moan. You’re struggling. The mouth stops, then sinks: down, all the way. Fucking amazing. Fucking hell.

"Oh?" Sana laughs airly, "are you touching yourself, hm? No fair, are you going to leave me all lonely here-"

You can see that smirk. The fuckery that would come: Sana's version.

"Sir," Tzuyu mumbles, sounding muffled. Her mouth is a tight vise of warmth, and your hand threads through her hair again. You hold, tighten the ribbon a bit, and Tzuyu stares at you through half-lidded eyes: you don't think she'll blink until you make her cry, and by then-

“Fuck,” Sana says, totally flat, "I'm actually pretty wet," the emphasis, "so I'd like some real advice, y'know-"

You see her legs. The tops. The bottom, all the way down- and you inhale sharply, too much and too hard.

Tzuyu has her fist at the base of your cock and her palm is sliding down the slick flesh and, a moment later, up, meeting her mouth at the top of its stroke - and, without a goddamn care, she hollows her cheeks - puckers her lips along the surface.

You were right. "This is hell."

Sana hums a laugh. "Need me that bad, huh? We're missing each other by just a couple days."

You stroke the top of Tzuyu's hair, her bow bobbing in a nice little bounce. Sana would know better than to wear her hair up. To even go near this, her throat - you hold her jaw steady, maybe a second, the moment of recovery to make Tzuyu slow and careful: her tongue does a pass at the sensitive, rigid underside of the crown, the sudden movement - before she speeds up.

"Picturing your hand." She tells you in a languid tone.

"God," you half-say, half-moan, and Tzuyu is good. So fucking good, and the mouth is too damn eager and it's difficult to think.

You barely get your hand free to switch to speaker, then let it clatter to the side. Tzuyu grinning, her lips flushed red and wet and dragging over your cock, sliding down, her tongue doing another pass, swirling at the center, the flare-

"Thinking about you, actually, fuck," Sana has a hitch to her breath that wasn't quite there before. "Doing those things, that mouth all over, Jesus Christ - ah- my legs, my breasts, fuck- are you jerking off right now? You sound, well, pretty uh, yeah."

"Just saying," you breathe, as the shock and the sensations rise and fall; Tzuyu's edging you in her mouth, her own head starting to shake, her chin bobbing up and down the full, long line of your dick - she's never done anything by halves. "It's getting- I'm thinking about you, Sana, of course, and your- pretty cunt, god, of course, so- ah, close- you said you were wet?"

"Huh? Of course, dripping. Imagining you - your thick, your cock," Sana sorta giggles, out of it then-

Tzuyu moans. Her body is pliant and her shoulders roll; she sucks, her cheeks dip, her back arches, and all of the noises hit the air thick, all while Sana's voice sharpens - both girls, two. You're slipping off the cushion, and probably out of your mind. The ache builds and burns and yearns for some sort of release-

"-how wet and tight I would feel, after so fucking long. Please, fuck, fuck-" you hear Sana, "would you, fuck, c'mon, how I would look, on top of you? Could feel- the stretch, your cock deep inside. The, fuck- friction."

There’s this beat, where it’s just Sana’s stiff breathing; you can picture her wrist between her thighs, the pump, the twist as her fingers run over and over again through the sound of her slick. You’re left wondering if she can hear too, the mouth trailing kisses along your balls, tongue gliding back up and swallowing your length whole.

“Mnph.” Tzu chokes down a little.

And you look down, you have to eventually - to see the steady stare. Tzuyu's brows pinched and her eyelashes fanning out over the hollowed curve of her cheekbones. Pretty, fuck. Beautiful. So sexy: she looks up, swallows you back, like a fucking slut. Her mouth, wet, messy, hot, and her body-

"Third finger, by the way," Sana strains, "'cause- fuck, my pussy - my tight little hole would be swallowing your cock so damn good."

"Mmm, fuck." You're reduced to your base instincts, pulling Tzuyu's hair, dragging her wet, velvety mouth onto your shaft - she follows willingly, no question of her pace slowing, but - more, and more, and you could probably cum in her mouth if her hands weren't clasped firmly over your thighs and you weren't brushing away the tears pricking the ends of Tzuyu's lashes- you won't tell. Not with your fingers. Fuck. Her nails bite at the skin of your bare legs. She looks angry, insistent. Choking.

Sana sounds just as out of sorts, out of breath, "you would feel so fucking good. Look so good. Let me have it- whatever I need, yeah?" And you think she's close: it's that keen edge, a faint, broken whine. She's never going to finish any way except- "would you, inside me? Y'know- make me cum, real full. God- are you close? Would you make a mess out of me? Of my pretty pussy?"

“Okay, holy fuck-" and the question barely even hits you.

Tzuyu is glaring now, shaking: she wants you to lose it, and she looks furious, holding her fingertips, her thumb on the base of your cock: a new pressure, a new feeling, a new pulse, a new high- she wants you to forget about Sana, maybe. What she sounds like, how she looks. Her legs wide, her bare, slicked skin on display. For you, yes. Fucking her until she- "uh, baby," and this time, your voice makes her smile, and her teeth drag. You wince. Her pupils are blown out, and there's a flush building in her chest. "Where are you?"

"Laying down. Flat- god. Where I'm always-" and you imagine a plane of soft, tanned, toned legs, her wide hips, "I'd, yeah, in a second. Pressure at my back- it would feel so fucking good, y’know, if you were here."

You have no doubt in your mind: Sana would be gorgeous. Even from the back, she'll be hotter, fuck, she always is, especially like that - and the movement of Tzuyu's fingers tightens against the straining, needy ache, and-

"Please, fuck, fuck- need to-"

"Would cum- a lot, that's it- over my back. Oh, yes, all over my back. My ass. Messy. fuck that's actually so good, jesus christ-" and then Sana lets out another soft keen and a shout - and it's so sweet and high-pitched and familiar, almost musical; she's cumming, hard. You're only a second, a third behind and-

Your balls draw tight and a coil in your stomach unfurls-

Tzuyu sees you, grins, your eyes trained on the pink of her mouth and her perfect, wet lips and the deep brown eyes - her dimpled cheek is the softest fucking thing - but the rest, her mouth, her wet heat: it's pure sensation. The tight vise of a throat swallowing, the taste on the flat of her tongue. You've got your cock shoved deep in her mouth, and you're not easy to take. Fucking Tzuyu's face, thrusting and the throbs of your cock pumping out a hot, heavy spill. More and more: sticky, filling, spreading out from the corners of her lips. Tzuyu gurgles, struggling - fuck, finally letting go with a weak pop, falling back, and the white mess runs hot over her mouth. Your release smeared across her lips, dripping off her jaw - fucking christ - her tongue, her eyelashes - a wild mess of fluid. It splatters against her pale skin - runs down the hollow of her throat to the edges of her chest. She has her fingers working fast still, a squelching tight fist: you cum all over the stupid, cutesy bow too. It's all you see, the only thing-

“Fuck,” Sana says, oblivious. “That’s good.”

-before your eyelids shutter close, a ringing in your ears and your heart racing; and, not far, another sigh, followed by the slide of your phone down the couch.

"Aw, you done already?" Sana says. Lazily. You can see the look on her face, probably rubbing her pussy and thinking about more - if there’s any two ways the girls compare, it’s this allergic reaction to anything like temperance or moderation. You need new friends, new lovers; this can’t last.

"Uh-huh." The back of your head digs into the couch cushions. Fuck. Sana. Phone. On speaker. Oh. Right. Shit. "But I was- mnph. Uhh." Your brain has lost a lot of blood. It's doing nothing. Nothing but losing blood. You wish it’d stop. “I’m here, Sana, talk to me.”

Sana giggles at that, delighted, "don't tell me you're in such bad shape I need to save you-"

"The uh," your voice slurs. Then you're pulling the phone to you, closer. Fuck. Yeah. You're an idiot. Your breath is heavy: "I could go for more, yeah, how’re you feeling?"

"So fucking tired." Her breathing sounds less ragged. A full breath. A pout: a poor me.

"Hmm." Tzuyu crawls onto you. Slides the fabric of your shirt between her palms, up and down your ribs. She pushes the sweater and tee away. Bares your stomach- then kisses there. Lower, and then rises, looking through her lashes. It's clear: a demand. She'll be insisting, pressing down on you, kissing, running her teeth along the edges of your shoulders, your neck. She’ll kiss you right now if you let her - until she sinks into a promise at the center of your body. Your back is arching off the leather from the sensitivity, and Tzuyu has her lips all over you - smiling when your hands tangle with the long strands of her hair.

She pauses. You drop a hand to Tzuyu's waist. Pinch.

"Ow-" she says, coming across slightly betrayed.

And, satisfied with the expression her face, the phone cradled between your chin, her lips warm over your ribs, her head tickling the edges of your jaw, you keep laughing, or you want to, but Tzuyu takes you between her thighs, lifts a little on your cock - her eyes widen: she's testing your flexibility. Trying to drag this out, trying for teasing. She’s good at that (a verifiable truth), but you’re you - you see right through it: she likes how it feels, the thickness and size of you. Tzuyu keeps sliding slowly down the full length, letting you fill her inch by inch - her slick heat feels unbearable.

“God,” she mutters, and she’s making the dreamiest expression - the blush in her cheeks, the eyelids hung low, the mouth slightly agape - she lifts up, then slams all the way to the base, flush. You grab anything you can to hold onto. Her legs. Her ass. Her thighs. Her jaw. That perfect little fucking waist.

She’s sublime. Your cock is bathing in her slick, the wet heat, the throbbing pulses - she's gasping in your lap, like she can’t believe how good you feel filling her cunt.

"Sana," you grit, "there's- nothing else in the world I'd rather do right now than shove my cock-”

“Ugh,” Sana sighs in agreement, in imaginary bliss. “In my little fucking pussy- you’re making me miss you, or something, jesus-”

You squeeze her thigh and her lips quirk, just barely, a challenge.

"Want put a nice thick load" - the hand on Tzuyu's hip brings her down in your lap, fucking up hard as her chest racks with breath - "in your slutty little cunt" - you fuck her faster, the sounds of flesh against flesh obscene - "fill up your pussy, princess. Would cum in it until" - and the last inch of your cock, filling Tzuyu’s cunt, you've no control - "you're a mess, you're dripping in it-"

Tzuyu's movements still. A pause. Her hips. Your own, and all the rest, every nerve in your body is on fire.

She moves with the most graceful slide, her wet lips gliding - gripping - up your cock. Then, down. The quiet. The lull. The pause before she does it again. She has cum all over her face, and she’ll kill you. You’ll let her.

"God. We'll have to get around to it," Sana finally tells you, dryly, "when this fucking snow clears. Say hi to Tzuyu for me won’t you?"

You're not a bad person.

(The reassurance that you aren’t - or don’t want to be? - is probably still not super convincing. There's some line drawn there, blurred, crossed, and thoroughly annihilated by your actions, you think, vaguely, but maybe it's better if no one sees, hears, finds out. The finer details matter a lot less at that point.)

You're like anybody else: you get desperate to hold onto something, somebody, even for just a moment. Sometimes you don’t even need a reason at all.

Tzuyu is stepping out of the shower, her head bobbing: it takes everything in you not to drag her back in there. She’d let you. She wouldn’t even complain.

You can hear the catch and the slide of a bath towel, the wisp of water hitting the bottoms of her feet and trailing, an exaggerated moan - a gesture, meant to entice, a suggestion: fuck her right back in the shower until her hair is plastered to her cheeks, and she's panting. Or the steam lifts her breasts in a gentle, humid press. That mouth on the tiles - sobbing.

“Tzu,” you call out, and she just continues humming some indifferent tune.

You pull a thick sweater over your head: it's gray wool, and it's all clean and good and new. When she wraps her arms around you, a deep inhale: a grin, then a shiver. She's naked and dripping everywhere, wet hair leaving a trail in its wake. She burrows her face in the folds of fabric at your spine - and if you turned, the slightest movement, the smooth line of her torso would be exposed, and your fingers could trace down her belly button, the tips dipping between her legs-

The window is fogging at the bottom, the steam slipping out in tendrils - but the heat can't compete against the girl all wet and dripping, and it does nothing but give way to the cold, seeping in.

"I still think it's funny," she says, all matter of fact. "It's weird that this isn't awkward."

“What’s that?”

She's at the doorway.

“Us. Being here.”

You turn, and Tzuyu pulls at your sweater: looking for attention, always seeking out the easy praise. Her hand automatically slides beneath the cloth of your collar, drawing your jaw up for a short, hard kiss.

"Okay," and there's a small nod, the line of her throat pulsing as she breathes, "yeah," her chest rising and falling.

"Look at you,” you tell her. “All dry and tidy. Cute. "

A dumb comment earns you the tiniest smile, then she's leaning back, taking her hands to her hair and wringing out the water, pulling and tugging at the tangles - the towel wraps around her waist again and again, and she looks good, clean: it makes you think of what comes later. Not having to give a fuck - at least not for a little while.

"Jeez," she's shivering, still, and rubbing the tops of her arms, "and Sana is gonna be, like, all over you once she gets the chance. Wants a nice lay too, from the sound of it. Was being honest about that. Seems pretty pent up."

“Maybe you can help,” you offer, a bit flippant. She smiles - but in all seriousness, it’s a resounding: no.

There's something else, too, as she runs her fingertips, absently, through her hair - it falls flat on her neck and around her bare shoulders, dark against the lightness of her skin, but somehow you get the impression that she's not entirely preoccupied. "Y'know, I had a really good time and all, but I'm not the homewrecker type, yeah - it's not worth the stress," a slight shrug, like she isn't certain, her mind a little more tangled than usual, and for good reason, too, "probably won't hook up ever again."

"Gloomy," you tease.

"Don’t act like you're not going to miss it," she says, conspiratorial - and Tzuyu plants herself where you can feel her in your space - but she doesn't press. "Even when you're keeping busy, you'll have the smallest reminder, like - aha, Tzuyu would've really liked this, or that - when, y'know - you're stuck somewhere, thinking about the weather," and her cheeks are heating with color as her tongue forms the syllables - and the meaning is clear now as it always was.

“Even if you’re like, totally smitten, or whatever with her,” she adds, smirking.

"Sana will be back to her usual antics in no time. Being annoying and forward and whatever," you reply. "Won't miss much."

The girl's expression flickers a little - a slight twitch - but otherwise, a flat look.

She fixes the lay of her towel across her wide hips. You reach for her arm: pull at it, pulling her toward.

"I mean- Sana and I have a few things in common, anyway. Something in common. Can both be a spoilsport. Dull. Can be a bit, uh, territorial, if you you know-"

The rest is cut off, the words running into a kiss, deep and desperate; there's no place like her mouth: soft, eager, hot.

"And our usual antics?" she asks.

She leans into you, the chill starting to set, a fire burning nearby: something clandestine that maybe shouldn't last as long as it does. A log settling against the others, another plume of heat, and you say, a touch solemn,

"Dunno if we've ever been in common about anything, babe."

"Jeez. You don't have to spell it out like that, do you?" Tzuyu laughs lightly, holding the bath towel at her hips - her breasts are bare. They fall without support, her nipples, the slope of her ribs, everything. "I mean, how cruel."

(It isn't really. Because, here's the thing. In the grand scheme of things, Chou Tzuyu was never really supposed to happen at all.)

The snow clears, like all things you suppose, slowly and with a sigh: with the change in winds and a promise for a gradual spring. Tzuyu steals a shirt. Doesn't seem inclined to return it, says she's good at letting her imagination do half the work in lieu of the actual sex. (The nip is like a sting: it'll last longer, apparently. The bruising at the edges of her waist is more abstract.)

You’re in the driveway. Tzuyu’s leaning back on her luggage.

She kisses you like she wants to make you lose something: her lipstick, her mind, her heart or soul. And when her arms slide, her mouth parting - her tongue darting and sweeping, taking - Tzuyu knows a good many things about herself. She knows you, too. What makes her wet, what gets her off. What part of you will always come back to her. But her hair falls heavy: so much silk. She's laughing - a grin and she's licking the pink right off her teeth and she's beautiful and you think you'll want this always:

A girl like her, kissing so eager for you-

"You can totally say it first," she tells you, that mouth at the edge of your ear.

"Um," you say, and she settles down a little further, her wrists locked behind your neck. "You are so: clingy."

The look she gives you is adorable. All dimple, no worry. “Yeah, so?”

“How is that fair?”

"I don't really care if it is or isn’t. We’d be good together - and that’s a fact. So say something good, or I'm getting in that cab right now."

So you do. You do. The first word, the syllable, the way you ask her, the sound that is something like: mine, and the way it dries the edge of your throat; you kiss it away and she giggles because maybe this means, after a while, you really are as terrible as she always hoped.

She'll give you everything. She says, yours, and it would always be you; she halts a bit, and says it like she’s thawing a revelation, one that’s been there since the start - says she loves you and she always has. You laugh and she says it again: always.

Sana ends up standing in the cabin a day later. The same place you stood, watching Tzuyu lick yogurt off her spoon. Her coat looks expensive. There's her purse. The boots. That red-painted mouth. Her eyes are fixed, and she sees nothing out of the ordinary. Which is probably, you think, ideal.

"That's funny," her face betrays nothing.

The cabin smells a little like burning wood, vaguely: peppermint tea. An electric kind of heat and the warmth of the sun. It had smelled like evidence prior, the way a girl gets with her underwear missing, hair a tangled mess, body sore and aching, a wet bed. You'd looked like a pair of kids caught in a terrible storm, a lovers' quarrel in a small space - or, just: well-fucked.

"What's funny?" is how you finally manage.

"I just mean," she starts again, "she used to have like. The craziest crush on you. It would’ve been cute if it wasn't sorta sad. Did you know? You couldn't, I guess." She shrugs: a heavy lift of her shoulders, a release. The tension is leaking everywhere. "Must've been torture for her to get stuck here with you."

"Huh," you say, like you were missing something, which is exactly the wrong tone and definitely the wrong sentiment. “Oh, the crush. That. Sure.” You’re suppressing a smile. “Torture, yeah. Hey. Don't worry about it. I’m sure we’ll be fine."

(You can’t stop running it back through your head, her long dark hair disappearing into the cab. She loves you and you love her, and it’s got this beautiful caveat of being something simple-complex. Like, who would ever believe any of this? Like, who else even matters?

You say, you belong to me, and she agrees without even thinking.

“You always knew, though. From the start, you always did. I was never going to be anyone else's," and then she pouts. "Wouldn’t hurt telling me, from time to time."

And the mountains have a way of feeling like the end, sounding like the closing score, the credits - you look out at the white caps and reflect: maybe you shouldn’t have let her go. Maybe you should chase after her. Maybe you could still make it work. Maybe you should consider that a promise.

You look up at the sky, the pale blue - and maybe you can afford to let her go.

You know you’ll only find your way back.)

#tzuyu smut #twice smut #tzuyu #twice tzuyu smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

2K notes · View notes

gffa · 4 months ago

Text

JEDI ORDER CITATIONS IN STAR WARS CANON, PART V [A Meta/Reference Guide on AO3] Welcome to my Jedi Culture and Teachings in Canon series, where I collate various quotes from current canon to provide a worldbuilding and reference guide, whether for better fic writing, just general interest in getting to know the Star Wars lore better, or if you want to be able to pull out some quotes when you're fighting the internet on behalf of the fictional space wizards. ;) So, what's here? Basically anything I think would be of interest to people who want to know what the Jedi are like in the canon--any worldbuilding bits (what special abilities do the Jedi have? do the Jedi have art? do they have funeral rites? what do we know about Knighting ceremonies? what are the themes of the Force? are the Jedi telepaths or empaths and what scenes in canon support that? what do we know about Jedi schooling?), any quotes from Lucas himself, all arranged in categories to help you find what you're looking for. Feel free to take this guide or leave it, it's not about telling other people what to do, if you scroll on by, that's fine, I'm not your mom, do what you want. But if you want to know what the Jedi have to say about Force bonds or what kind of clothing they way or everything we know about the main ziggurat of the Jedi Temple, I got you covered, babe. This section is admittedly overly large, where previously I would get to about 25k words of citations and post the next part, feeling that was a manageable chunk for readers. But with The Acolyte coming out, I made a challenge to myself to get caught up on all of The High Republic before it aired and I drop citations in as I'm reading, so suddenly I found myself with nearly 50k of citations and I was feeling in the groove, I had all my references easily accessible, I was getting through my backlog, I had access to some of the roleplaying guides, I was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, and, wham, suddenly it's ~70k and here I am now. But that's 70k of examples of what the Jedi say and do, my best attempt to give context to show the consistent themes and parallels within the Jedi Order all across this continuity. How to use this guide? Well, you do you, for starters! But I hope you'll read the intros, as often some books need to be put in specific contexts, and if you have any suggestions for future categories or better organization, feel free to mention it! I do this for me, but I format it for sharing, so I'm game! Feel free to check out previous sections for more examples, and just scroll through to skim the bolded sections to try to find what you're looking for, since not everything always fits neatly into a single given category! (Or just ask me! I love being a nerd about Star Wars worldbuilding.) The guide is broken down into seven sections as before:

How the Force Works

Jedi Culture & Philosophy & Teachings

Jedi As a People

Psychic Space Wizards Doing Psychic Space Wizard Things

Jedi Temple (Living Quarters, Training Rooms, Meditation Gardens and Dining Halls !)

Jedi Outreach, Politics, and the Bigger Galaxy

Fantasy Flight Games Are Not Canon But Canon-Compliant Is Close Enough

Jedi, Buddhism, and Everything Else

#lumi.txt #star wars #jedi order #meta #reference #resource #long post

417 notes · View notes

pshbites · 24 days ago

Text

COWBOY LIKE ME - park sunghoon (teaser)

pairing → sunghoon x reader

synopsis → fresh college graduate, park sunghoon decides to take a 5 month long vacation with some of his closest friends to northern italy. his expectations? bike rides, gelatos, his best friend and designated chef trying a multitude of recipes, and late night swims. the reality? falling deeply in love with the girl who lives with her grandparents next door.

genre & warnings → coming of age, summer au, mentions of the UK school system, based in europe (duh), strangers to friends to a secret third thing, heavy feelings, use of alcohol and drugs, mental health problems, running away, yn has an avoider attachment, loverboy sunghoon, more tbd.

cast → all of enha, kazuha and yunjin from lesserafim, mentions of txt, much more side characters.

est wc → 20 - 25k (?) currently at 15k so we'll see

authors note → hai guys, sooo this is smth i wrote this summer as u can see it is HEAVILY based off of cmbyn ermm so i guess just enjoy! reply here if you wanna be added to the taglist and pls like n reblog <3

SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN ITALY, 2022.

you and sunghoon laid on the grass next to one another, bodies just inches apart. the moon was high in the sky and it was another one of those quiet nights with him, you adored these nights. you could hear your friends laughing in the house, but it still just felt like it was just you two and the rest of the world and your respective worries just faded away.

sunghoon turned his body to face you, his elbow propping him up slightly. you turned your body, now face to face with him. his hand reached over, brushing hair out of your face. his eyes were looking into yours like they usually did, but now they were holding something back. “what?” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t the fear of being too loud, it was the content of your conversations being strictly between the two of you, no one else’s.

that was the beauty in these moments you had with sunghoon, they were sacred. as if it were a child hiding candy. the two of you weren’t secretive in the fear of being caught or teased, it was to keep whatever you had, yours. the content that no one else besides sunghoon could know your in and outs, and same with him. it was like your relationship was a question mark to everyone else around you and the two of you intended to keep it that way.

sunghoon didn’t say anything for a couple seconds, his hand still in your hair, now moving down to cup your cheek in his hand. his thumb grazing the apples of your cheeks. during all this his eyes never left yours. he finally sighed out. “call me by your name and i’ll call you by mine” he breathed out, his voice soft but words as hard as bricks.

“what?” you repeated, smiling softly at his words. something about this moment between the two of you was so intimate that nothing could tear you from one another. his hand now rested on your waist, rubbing it up and down. somehow you were closer to him than you were before. “you heard me.” sunghoon whispered back, lost in your eyes.

he shifted a little closer to you, leaning forward so his lips were against your ear. “sunghoon, sunghoon, sunghoon” he whispered, lips kissing the shell of your ear afterwards. each time he said his name there was a pause in between it. he moved back a little, now smiling. you could hear your heart beating in your ears as you smiled back.

you moved closer, leaning forward so your lips were against his ear. “yn, yn, yn” you whispered back, following the same rhythm he did. you leaned back, eyes never leaving his. his hand reached down to yours and he intertwined your fingers together with his, holding you tightly as if you were going to disappear in a matter of seconds.

you laid on your back, your cheeks starting to hurt because of how hard you were smiling. you felt closer to sunghoon now than you had this entire summer. he moved closer, head resting on your shoulder as he laid on his back as well. your hands still intertwined because of the fear eating both you alive.

the fear that this won’t be forever.

273 notes · View notes

ladysisyphus · 5 months ago

Text

Happy Pride from Shousetsu Bang*Bang!

Shousetsu Bang*Bang is a long-running webzine full of original queer smutty stories and art. How long-running, you ask? Our first issue was published in September 2005, and we've been going strong ever since. All our issues are filled with tales of queer romance with steamy scenes and a spirit that encourages happy endings!

All our issues are available for free! Browse our stacks for a complete list of everything we've published. Up until 2017, regular issues contained stories with M/M content, special issues had F/F content, and Yes, And issues were the place for everything else. Since 2018, all issues have been open to all kinds of bodies and combinations!

The best way to start is just to pick an issue and get to reading! But if you're looking for something special, let www.s2b2search.com be your guide! We're in the process of tagging our collection so it's searchable by content.

Maybe you want to see our Steampunk stories! Or the ones with Cross-dressing! We've got Medieval settings and Crime fiction, sometimes in the same issue! Feel like reading about Asexual or Nonbinary characters? Prefer pairs who are Dating or Married? Want something Short (<5k words) or JUMBO LARGE (>25k words)? Looking for some Hurt/Comfort or Friends to Lovers? Weddings? Single Parents? Dragons? Cowboys? Bodyguards? Vampires? Coffee shops? Body Horror? Farms? Knights? Voyeurism? Squirrels? From Academia to Zombies, we've got all kinds of exactly what you want.

Feeling lucky? Click here to get a random story or artwork!

Want to join us? We'd love to have you! Check out our 2024 Editorial Calendar to see what's coming up, and look at our list of Current and Previous Signups to find out how to participate! (Hint: Turn something in by the deadline! It's so easy!) We're always happy to have new authors and artists in our pages. Whether you're just getting started or you've been doing this as long as some of us old-timers have, we welcome your submissions!

Please help us spread the word! Tell your friends! Give us a reblog! We need all the help we can get to get what we've got out into the world. Your support is always appreciated! Thanks for helping to keep this labor of love going strong nearly two decades and counting.

#s2b2 #lgbtq #pride #lesbian #gay #trans #bisexual #queer #queer romance #shousetsubangbang #shousetsu bang bang

501 notes · View notes

neochan · 10 months ago

Text

THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR – TEASER

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part three of a series! read part one & two for context! cannot be read as a standalone!

PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS | na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.

WC | 1.1k for the teaser | 20-25k est. for fic

A.N | this is just a teaser for you guys to get hype!! current wc for the entire project is 14.6k....will be posting the finished fic on feb 1st <3

The echo of your footsteps resonates through the quiet library as you navigate your way to the geology section. The fluorescent lights above flicker intermittently, casting occasional shadows that dance along the bookshelves. You can't help but wonder why Haechan chose such a weird ass place to meet.

Decorative rocks are showcased throughout this area of the library, and in the back of your mind you wonder who in their right mind would study geology. Rocks?

“Took you long enough.” Haechan teases, emerging from the shadows between two bookshelves. You squint at him, your eyes still adjusting to the unexpected appearance.

"Why do you have to be so extra?" you quip, recovering from the surprise. It's the second time today he's managed to catch you off guard.

"Extra is my middle name, darling," he grins, leaning casually against the shelves. You secretly wish they would give in and collapse just for the sake of a good laugh.

"Cut the dramatics, Haechan. Why am I here?" you demand, crossing your arms.

"I want to know what you’re doing with Jaemin," he deadpans, peering up through his long lashes. "Because for the past thirty minutes or so, you've been practically drooling over him." He checks his wrist adorned with a silver watch you gifted him last Christmas, "And I've been keeping track, by the way. Don't bother denying it; I've got eyes everywhere."

You roll your eyes, annoyance creeping in. "That's bordering on stalker behavior, you know."

He casually shrugs, unfazed. "Answer the question."

"I'm studying with Jaemin. What else would I be doing?" you retort, finding the situation utterly ridiculous.

"Sure, you're not one of his study buddies?" Haechan drawls, dragging out the second-to-last word and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again, realizing you've walked right into his stupid trap.

You glare pointedly. “Just because you caught me looking at another man that isn’t you doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”

“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about fucking him.” Haechan replies with a sly grin.

“You implied it!” You huff, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured finger.

He clutches the spot and winces at pain. “Damn your nails are sharp.”

“Why am I really up here.” You were becoming impatient. Perhaps you should have known that Haechan would waste your time. There was nothing of importance for you between these stupid, dusty, rock filled shelved.

A part of you did know it, though. And that part was practically begging Haechan to shove you against the shelves and start fucking your brains out.

You squash that part down. Deep down.

Haechan sighs and takes a tentative step backwards, “Honestly, I was bored and just wanted to mess with you.” You open your mouth to chastise him, but he cuts you off before you can, “But now that we’re on the topic of fucking Jaemin –”

“Don’t think we’re on the same topic here.” You interject.

He keeps going without missing a beat, “I just thought you should know about his....habits” His face beams in pride, as if this super-secret tidbit of information could solve world hunger.

"His habits?"

Haechan takes a step towards you, "Yeah...his dirty, filthy habits."

"What are you getting at Haechan?"

The boy in front of you eyes you up and down before speaking slowly, "You're telling me you don't know?"

You narrow your eyes at Haechan, feeling a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Know what exactly? Stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."

Haechan smirks, relishing the moment. "I just thought you should know that he fucks girls here after hours."

“In the geology section?” You question, skepticism etching your features.

“In the library dumbass.” Haechan retorts, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes lock onto yours, daring you to challenge him.

“Yeah right.”

He stomps his foot in a childlike manner. “I’m serious.”

Your disbelief lingers. "I don't believe you. It's literally patrolled by security after hours," you assert, your arms crossing defensively over your chest.

Haechan rolls his eyes, seemingly accustomed to your skepticism. "Y/n, me and Jeno used to think Jaemin was rocking your shit back when he started tutoring you."

A wry smile creeps onto your face. "How lovely."

“I mean, now we know you just need help with stats –”

“It’s a hard subject.” You defend yourself.

Sure, you’d never been good at math like others, but statistics was a hard class. And your professor made it even more boring with her monotoned voice.

“I know, cheated my way through an A.” Haechan admits, flashing a beaming smile. “Anyways, he has an entire roster of girls he brings to the library after hours. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve seen him actually tutor.” The soft glow of the library lights casts a warm hue on the leather-bound volumes that surround you and you notice it illuminates the curve of Haechan’s jaw too.

“Haechan, I swear if this is a prank or a set up.”

He gives another stomp to the worn-out carpet, "Why would I be lying about this?" he insists, his expression genuinely serious. "You know what, meet me here Friday night at nine thirty."

“The library closes at eight.”

“Back entrance is always open.” He winks at you, and you playfully swat his arm. “Gonna prove that I’m not lying.”

“Whatever.”

You find yourself baffled by Haechan's sudden revelation about Jaemin's supposed "dirty habits." There's a lingering question in your mind – why is Haechan even sharing this information with you in the first place? As the absurdity of the situation sinks in, you can't help but wonder what prompted him to bring you to this secluded spot just to share peculiar details about Jaemin's life.

Is he threatened by your sudden interest - if he really was catching on to the fact that you were after Jaemin.

A few beats pass before he’s nudging your shoulder. “So?” He jostles your arm with his own until you swat at him again, “You’ll meet me here?”

“Sure, Haechan.” In truth, you had nothing better to do. And maybe you could use this to your advantage. The next part of this stupid challenge was to fuck Jaemin anyways, and what better way than to use his rendezvous spot to do so.

If Haechan was telling the truth.

“We should make out.”

You slide your eyes to his and cock your head, “In your dreams Hyuckie.”

note. let me know your thoughts!!!! i really need feedback in my inbox <3 also, if you want to be on the taglist, comment on this post (if you're in the taglist for the rest of the series, no need to comment)

#jaemin smut #nct jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream series

766 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 3 months ago

Text

flowers on the floor (kys) | part two. (final)

(part one)

—summary: when yeosang decided he was going to take a month-long vacation, he was mainly hoping to get away from his mundane routine and the stress of work. he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet you and build a connection unlike he’s ever known. when the end of his vacation nears, promises are made to keep the relationship alive, to keep it blossoming. but eventually, as the reality settles in and the distance continues to put a wedge into your relationship, you drop your end of the promise without any trace. despite the heartbreak, all yeosang can do is think about you— hoping the universe will lead you to each other again.

—pairing: kang yeosang x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 25k | playlist

—content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, details about a toxic relationship (mentions of gaslighting, manipulation, infidelity), a lil more details about oc’s family dynamics, alcohol consumption and intoxication/yacking, party scenes, crying, lots of overthinking, insecurities, negative talk, lots of lil flashback scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), making out, sprinkle of breast play, sorry if i missed anything - i tried to edit this quick af lol

—a/n: ty for waiting for me <33 see you soon for professor choi's debut 🤪

Yeosang can remember the last time he had a good night sleep, and it was when he was with you.

Now, he calls your dead number hoping you’ll miraculously pick up— just to be met by that automated message that reminds him that you really aren’t around and he has no idea where to find you.

It’s a shame he doesn’t even have your friends saved on his phone. He always relied on you, communicated through you. He could easily pull them up on Instagram, but he feels the need to just go to town in case you’re still hiding out in any of its corners, hiding out in its deepest crevices.

He doesn’t think he’ll find sleep any time soon, so he gets up and gets himself ready as it hits 6am. He takes a taxi down to the train station, making it just in time to catch the 6:45am train to town. He’s got a new podcast he listens to, one that he wishes he could share with you and tell you all the details about. He misses the nights when you’d share your true crime findings and he’d talk about his current podcast obsession for hours on end. He misses hearing your voice, misses hearing how enthusiastic you get. He misses when you used to call him babe or baby; whining over the phone for his attention.

He misses everything about you.

He’s not even sure why he’s impulsively heading to town, now that he really thinks about it. He’s truly holding onto hope that maybe you’re just hiding out and taking time away, even though his gut is telling him otherwise.

He gets into town a bit close to 11am, and he takes a taxi straight to the restaurant. Everything feels like a distant, far memory. Waves of emotions wash over him as he watches the surroundings brush past, remembering his first times here. All of his memories with you.

It feels like a fever dream.

“Yeosang!” Mingi yells with a smile on his face. He wraps his arms around him in a big hug, patting him on the back. He knows what he’s here for and he’s already sorry he can’t be of more help to him, especially when he sees that Yeosang arrived alone and without you. He wishes he can, but he can’t. He’s just as lost as he is. “Missed you, my guy.”

“Aye! Look who it is!” Keeho and Jungkook come out from the back to greet Yeosang with soft smiles and daps.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Yeosang digs his hands into his pockets. “Where’s Mina?”

“She’s at work. The dentist is open on Saturdays and she’s the office manager.” Yeosang nods as Mingi responds. “Keeho, can you take them?” He nods towards the customers that just walked in and sat down.

“Bruh, why me? What do you even do here? Act like decoration?” Jungkook snorts.

“It was good seeing you.” Jungkook smiles. “Let us know if you want anything, on the house.” He turns to finish cooking in the kitchen.

“No seriously, we missed you, dude. Stay for a bit or something. Get comfortable.” Yeosang shakes his head and smiles at Keeho.

“Thanks, I’m good. Promise.”

“You okay?” Mingi looks at him as Keeho and Jungkook busy themselves.

“I— yeah, I don’t know.” Mingi sits and lets out a breath.

“I see Y/N isn’t with you.” Mingi says it out of worry; there’s no tension, no bad blood, no anger behind it. He’s not teasing and pushing Yeosang’s buttons. He is just worried.

“And I see she isn’t with you, either.” Yeosang purses his lips— the hope he had slowly dwindling and lowering on the gauge.

“Yeo, I’m not sure what to tell you. She was here, then she was gone.”

“Did she—“ Yeosang slightly shakes his head. “Did she tell you where?”

“I’m sorry, dude. I really wish I could tell you, but I don’t know anything. She didn’t say anything to anyone. Just.. left. When she was supposed to be back at work after visiting you, we hadn’t heard from her or seen her all day. We went to her studio and the landlord said she packed up and left, never came back.” Yeosang sighs and it breaks Mingi’s heart a bit. “I tried to reach out to her and check up on her but her old number doesn’t even go through anymore.”

“Yeah.” Is all Yeosang says.

“I’m sorry.” Mingi looks at him. “So, she never came to see you that week?”

“No. I-I waited for her when she was supposed to come. For almost an hour. She never showed. Her number was dead by then.” Mingi shakes his head.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Mingi mutters, but he’s mostly thinking outloud, saying it to himself.

“It doesn’t. I don’t really know what to do.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all Mingi can say, because what else can he do? He doesn’t know anything. None of them do. “We’re gonna continue keeping an eye out for her. Any sign of her. You’ll be the first to know.” He hands Yeosang his phone. “I realized we all never got your number.” Yeosang chuckles a bit.

“I was eventually going to ask, but yeah. I got comfortable with Y/N being around and sending messages on my behalf.” He plugs in his number and hands the phone back to Mingi. Mingi sends him a message and gives him a tiny, pursed smile before tucking his phone in his pocket.

“That’s me. I sent you Keeho’s, Jungkook’s and Mina’s, too.”

“Thanks.”

“It probably sounds dumb with the circumstances, but give her some time. I think she’ll come around.”

“Mm.” Yeosang hums. “I just hope she’s okay.” There’s a slight pause between the two before Mingi speaks up again.

“Want anything for the road?” Yeosang shakes his head.

“I’m good. I’ll see you guys again soon. Maybe?” Mingi brings him in for a hug and nods.

“Soon.” Yeosang waves to Keeho and Jungkook before stepping out of the restaurant, taking in the smell of the ocean nearby.

“Shouldn’t we file a missing person’s report or something? Like.. she’s deadass missing. Is no one getting that?” Keeho asks.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Keep your voice down.”

“What do you mean no, Kook? We have no idea where she’s at, even Yeosang. She could be hurt.”

“No, I know she’s not. I know she’s out there somewhere, okay. Just give her some time. Let’s not make it any bigger than it should be right now, she probably has a reason and needs to be by herself. Let’s trust her, alright?” Keeho and Mingi let out deep sighs before nodding. Jungkook isn’t sure where he’s pulling this from— honestly, he does feel it within him, instinctual if you may, that you’re fine and that you’ve managed to find a safe place.

“Fine. But if it gets too long, I’m serious.” Keeho tosses the rag onto the counter and continues to tend to the customers sitting around.

Yeosang takes a small stroll along the beach, kicking along at the rocks and listening to the waves crash against the surface. It hurts a little to be here without you, because everything about this town is you. He swallows the lump in his throat when he feels the dull pain in his chest, doing his best to push it aside and breathe through it. He walks deeper into town, waving and conversing with a few people he had met from his visit. They’re all happy to see him, and they all question where you’ve been since they hadn’t seen you around. All he can do is shrug in return and tell them that he hasn’t seen you either.

It’s all a big game.

They sympathize with him, maybe some even pity him, but they send him off with warm smiles and big hugs— telling him they hope to see him again for longer soon. He hopes so, too. But next time, he hopes to be with you. Happy again.

Whenever that is.

He’ll tell himself it’s soon, even though he knows he’ll have to go through a long ass maze before he gets to the end.

Jeongin looks at you as you sort through your two luggages and fix your clothes into the three drawers on the side of your bed frame and in your tiny closet. He doesn’t even know what to say— quite frankly, he’s still trying to process the fact that you’re in front of him. In the flesh. Organizing your clothes because.. you’re back home and staying?

“So.. what? You just upped and left everyone? Your other friends? You didn’t tell anyone anything?”

“Nope.”

“You even got a new number. How are they supposed to contact you?”

“They don’t. For now.”

“Even that visitor guy you were seeing?” You stay quiet. It breaks your heart when Yeosang’s face flashes in your head. You miss him, you miss everything about him. And you wish it was easier to explain yourself, to tell him why you felt the need to run.

You just don’t think you deserve him. How could you be the person he deserved? What if you failed miserably and disappointed him, too? You couldn’t live with it. Not another disappointment.

“What if they file a missing person’s report, hm?” Jeongin tilts his head and you pause, looking at him dead in the eye. Jeongin realizes he doesn’t even know any of your friends from town by name. You’ve talked about this visitor guy so often, yet you’ve never said his name. He knows him as the visitor, that’s it. He’ll never understand why you tried to keep the two parts separate, but he guesses it’s making sense now— because of times like these, when you just need to be away and alone where no one can find you. But, why? What is the reason this time?

“They won’t, okay? I’m going to call them soon. Just.. let me get my things together.”

“No one else knows you’re here? Ryujin, Bin and Sannie?”

“Nope. I’m gonna see Ryujin tomorrow.”

“Your parents—”

“Not one word to them, Yang Jeongin.” You look at him. “Not yet. I’ll talk to them when I’m ready.”

“Okay, but my parents are gonna wonder why I keep leaving the house Y/N. Did you not think about any of this?” You sigh.

“No. I’m sorry. But, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll get to them before your parents question anything.”

“What’re you planning to do here then?” The questions continue to spill out of Jeongin’s mouth because he sure as hell wasn’t expecting you to call him in the middle of the day, asking for you to meet him at some random house. He finds you’ve rented a tiny in-law, using the savings you’ve accumulated over time, but that’s not really the issue. He’s happy you’re back home [in a sense], but you look frazzled. All over the place. Sad. Hurt. And Jeongin isn’t sure why you’re hiding from everyone and why you’ve decided to do this without letting anyone know. But, he can’t say he’s surprised because you did leave after graduation without saying much. He can’t say he’s surprised because you tend to run, and you run often.

“I don’t know, Innie. I just don’t know how to explain it. I wanna get myself together and get a job at the vet or aquarium, start working my way up so people start finally realizing I do have a purpose.” You pathetically chuckle. You just want to feel worthy. Like you have something to be proud of. Like you can finally genuinely be proud of yourself. For things you wanna do.

“Okay, cool. I’m all for it. But.. did something happen? Did he hurt you?” You remain quiet, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N, did he hurt—”

“No.” You sniffle. “He could never. It was me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t deserve him. What if I disappoint him, too? What if I can’t be the person he needs? What if he realizes I’m not shit?”

“Don’t say stuff like that.” He furrows his brows. “Why didn’t you give him a chance? It sounded like he cared about you, so why did you just let it go?”

“I can’t explain it. I just don’t wanna be another disappointment to someone, especially him.”

“Y/N.”

“Jeongin, please. Okay? I’m tired. I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to explain it to you. Please be on my team right now, that’s all I need.” He sees the tears slowly falling, staining your cheeks as you continue to unpack and keep quiet. He lets out a small sigh, shifting in his position on the hardwood floor to embrace you in a warm, tight hug.

“I am, I am. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be sure you were okay and not hurt.”

“I am.” It’s another lie, but it’ll help hold over until Jeongin becomes more curious.

“Can you do one thing for me, though?”

“Hm?” You hum.

“Can you promise me you’ll call your friends from town? They’re going to worry about you.”

“I will.” He nods and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans before standing.

“Should we go out and buy you some more furniture?” He looks around the incredibly empty and sad room. “Maybe some decor? I don’t know. Give your space some life?”

“If you buy me dinner, intern.” He rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” You chuckle, wiping away the stragglers running down your cheeks before hugging him tightly. Closely. You really missed your cousin, and he’s the comfort you need right now. Jeongin wraps his arms around you before squeezing lightly and pulling away.

“Let’s go.”

Jeongin takes you to a small furniture and decor store nearby, one that isn’t typically crowded or sought out. It does have cute furniture in stock, and you manage to grab a few necessities and prints to hang around your room. You don’t grab much, though. It’s enough to fit in Jeongin’s car [barely]. As promised, he takes you out to dinner while you sort through your employment plans with him. At the same time, he manages to update you about how his internship is going, how he’s trying his hardest to work hard and make sure he’s keeping up. You can only imagine how tough it can get for him, but he’s a smart and bright kid— you know he’ll succeed either way. You stay for about 2.5 hours before the sun finally sets and you’re heading back to your place under the twinkling stars, the bright moonlight.

While you’re fixing up your place with Jeongin that night, Yeosang finds himself getting wasted just a ways away. He doesn’t know you’re so close; yet, in his mind you’re so far and distant. So gone and lost. And that’s what kills him every time he thinks about it because he just doesn’t know where you are. It kills him because he still holds so much love for you, and he all he wants to do is hold you. Tell you everything will be okay. Console you. Be the man you need.

You won’t let him, though. Why?

“Yeo, that’s enough.” Chaerin pouts as she shoves the soju bottle away. “Let’s go.”

“One more.” He says, struggling to bring the shot glass to his lips. Wooyoung takes the glass from his hand and takes the shot on his behalf, no longer wanting Yeosang to drown in all this alcohol tonight.

“Let’s go.” Wooyoung repeats, standing to his feet while Jongho helps Yeosang up.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jongho struggles to hold up a drunk, stumbling Yeosang. He’s got an arm over his shoulder but he keeps slumping over, making it harder for Jongho to take proper steps.

“You okay?” Jongho asks even though he’s clearly not. But, he needs to know if they should stop and sit. If he’s gonna yack.

“Will I ever be?!” Yeosang drunkly responds with a pathetic laugh. “She fucking left and I have no idea where the hell she is! I’m so stupid— this is all so fuuuuucking stupid!” His tone raises, causing a few passerbyers to look their way.

“Yeo, come on.” Woo says, handing him some water. “Stop.”

“I just wish she knew how fucked up this is.” Yeosang laughs again. “Isn’t so fucked up how much I love her and she doesn’t even feel the same?”

“I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate right now, but you don’t know that. You don’t know what happened.”

“She left, that’s what happened! If she felt the same, she wouldn’t have done that! You d-don’t do that to people w-who—” He hiccups as he struggles to get his thought out.

“Okay, okay.” Chaerin diffuses the situation. “Let’s just go home and get you in bed.” She looks at Jongho and Wooyoung, both having the same, concerned expression on their faces. They finally make it to the car and shove Yeosang’s drunk ass in the back seat, with Chaerin holding a plastic bag in hand just in case.

Luckily though, Yeosang falls asleep for the short ride home. It becomes a mess all over again when Wooyoung steps out of the car to let him out— Yeosang stumbling over himself and damn near falling before leaning onto the side of his apartment and yacking his brains out. Chaerin stays with him until he’s good, all 3 helping him into his apartment and into bed. Chaerin gives him one last look as she sets the water bottle and trash can near his bed, a small frown forming on her lips as she leaves and shuts his door behind her. Wooyoung decides to stay behind and plops onto Yeosang’s couch, making himself comfortable for the rest of the night. He scrolls through his phone, pulling up IG in hopes of finding any possible way to get into contact with you. He knows it’s a reach, but he just feels like as Yeosang’s bestfriend, he needs to try.

He tries your name, but of course, nothing comes up. He looks up the restaurant Yeosang told him about, and he sees the restaurant’s IG page. He’s not sure what he can do with it, though. Even if you’re in the photos, it doesn’t give him anything. Yeosang has already traveled back to town to get more info from your friends, but apparently, they aren’t aware of your whereabouts either.

Where the fuck were you?

He’s already feeling frustrated with the fact that he has no other leads; he can only imagine what Yeosang’s going through right now. He wished he knew, but he’s at a loss. Wooyoung’s just hoping Yeo will at least get a sign soon. He doesn’t think you’ll hide out for long, there’s no way. Even with all this shit, he truly believes you’ll still find Yeosang and talk this out. He’s holding out hope, especially if his bestfriend can’t right now. It’s hard to tell if it’s a good or bad thing at this moment, but he can at least be a pillar of strength for Yeosang if it all falls through. Or, a pillar of strength to push him forward because he knows how much he cares about you.

All these thoughts swirling in his head put him to sleep pretty quickly, and Wooyoung falls into a deep sleep— better than one that he expected. However, that next morning is rough for Yeosang, to say the least. He wakes up and has an awful, pounding headache. He forces himself to get up anyway; hops in a quick, hot shower and heads out to find Wooyoung lying down on his couch, now stirring himself awake.

“You good?”

“Define good.” Yeosang plops on the floor by him.

“Guess not.” He snorts. “Do you remember last night?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. I do.” Yeosang sighs. “Sorry. I gotta call Chaerin and Jongho to apologize.”

“It’s all good. We know it’s tough right now.”

“Still.”

“So, what now?”

“I don’t know. I’ll keep looking, I guess. I—“ He pauses. “I don’t wanna give up on her even though she already has. I just can’t find it in me to let it go.”

“I mean, I get it. But, you do know, there is gonna come a point where you’ll have to if she hasn’t reciprocated or tried reaching out. I’m only saying this because you’re my bestfriend. I want you to find her and I want you two to work through this and be happy. But, I also need you to realize the other side of this in case it falls through.”

“I know. Thanks. I appreciate it.” He lays his head back against the edge of the couch and shuts his eyes.

“Wanna get breakfast? Just gotta drive me home so I can wash up and change.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll treat your ‘lil sad ass out.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung laughs as they both get up and get ready for their day— a day where Wooyoung can at least try to help his bestfriend stop thinking about you, stop thinking about everything going on for a bit. Maybe, he can at least have somewhat of a normal day.

For you, it’s not necessarily an ordinary day either. You’ve been standing in front of your mirror, trying to get yourself together before heading to Ryujin’s house after these years. You know San and Changbin are probably there, and you’re not really sure if you’ll ever be ready to see your friends after dipping and dashing.

How to explain yourself now? Why were you back?

Why were you running again?

You’re honestly not planning to call ahead of time, you’re just hoping she’ll be home at the time you come. You feel entirely unprepared, nervous, scared even, that she’d judge you for being who you are. For getting too into your thoughts, for thinking the way you do, for running. But, she proves you time and time again that she is your bestfriend for a reason. Your bestfriend that you can count on and feel safe with regardless of distance, time.

“Y/N?” Ryujin opens the door slowly, a small pout forming on her lips. You don’t say anything in response before you find yourself crying and throwing your arms around her tightly. Every emotion, every bit of sadness, hurt, confusion, fear, you had been feeling finally swept to the surface and made itself known. She cries, too. But, you think Ryujin is mainly crying because she hasn’t seen you physically in years. Part of it could also be that she hates seeing you cry, and she’s most definitely aware that something is going on for you to be crying on her doorstep. She’ll wait until you’re ready to share, though. For now, she’ll take the fact that she has you here, and possibly for good again.

“Is she crying?” San asks from the living room, where him and Changbin are currently sprawled out on the floor.

“Over our food getting delivered?” Changbin sits up. “Is she getting her period?” He looks at his phone.

“I don’t know, isn’t it more towards the end of the month? That’s when she gets hella—” Changbin looks up and immediately stands, approaching you as you stand in the hallway next to Ryujin.

“Y/N? No way!” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a big hug. “Is that actually you?”

“Yes it’s me, you dummy.” You mumble against his chest before he pulls away and gives San a chance to hug you.

“What the hell, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Changbin asks, but he suddenly shifts his tone when he notices how red your eyes are. The bags underneath. How tired and stressed you seem to be. “Wait, what’s wrong?” The question is enough to trigger more crying from you, causing you to dig your face into your hands before you even get a chance to sit.

“Here, let’s go sit so we can all talk.” San ushers you to the living room couch, sitting alongside you with Ryujin on your free side. Changbin opts for sitting on the ground, looking up at you with concern. You tell them everything, and you mean everything: running away because of all the pressure from your family, the hurt you felt from your ex. Your need to start new somehow, to feel worthy, to feel loved and appreciated in one form or another. You still don’t give them any names, but you do tell them you’ve made really good friends down there that you think they’d enjoy.

Then, with a brief pause, you tell them about Yeosang. Un-named, of course. But, you tell them like it’s the greatest love you’ve ever experienced in such a short amount of time. It is. Kang Yeosang was the biggest blessing you’ve been granted in such a long time, you’re not even sure how you’d ever move on or what you’re even doing right now. Changbin rests a hand on your knee when he sees you struggling to speak in between your sobs, choked up from all the crying you’ve been doing. Quite frankly, he has seen you cry like this. He hated it because back then, you cried because you were hurt. You were hurt and as your bestfriend, he was angry. You were treated terribly, you were treated in a way that you absolutely did not deserve. And for the longest time, he wondered when you’d stop crying over your ex, when you’d finally get past that point of being so down and out about someone who didn’t recognize your worth. Now, he finds you’re crying because you’re so deeply in love. You’re crying because you’ve been so afraid to hurt the only good thing that’s ever come into your life. You’re crying because you gave up the one thing that brought you pure happiness out of all the fear built within you from your past. He hates it now because he’s sad for you. All that mess from the past made you leave the one thing you truly deserved— a chance at pure, genuine happiness.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Ryujin continues to hold you and rub your arm. “I’m sorry.” She repeats. “What can we do? Should we go back to town? Why keep hiding if you know you feel the same way for him?”

“I’m just scared. I’m scared I’ll treat him badly and I won’t make him happy. I just can’t—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” San taps your leg, reassuring you and not wanting to overwhelm yourself. “You’re an amazing person though, Y/N. I’m sure he loved you for you and would’ve been willing to do this ride with you. Nothing is ever perfect.”

“Look, we’ll be here to support you no matter what, okay? You know that. Just tell us what you’ll need and we’ll help you. But, I need you to know that you’re never going to be alone. You won’t be. No matter what it is, you can always talk to us, Y/N.” Bin chimes in. “You don’t have to go through all of this by yourself just because you think no one wants to listen to you or help you get through it. You’re not being a burden, I don’t care what anyone else says.”

“I’m sure the same goes for your friends from town and.. him. Whatever your ex did, doesn’t define who you are. Same thing with the fights you had with your parents. None of that is you.” You sigh, lazily wiping away at your tears as you nod. Maybe it was time to finally come face to face with your demons. Maybe it was time to finally learn how to make peace with it and stop letting it determine your surroundings, your environment, your present.

Because it isn’t your past.

“I really missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too.”

“You’re staying?” San asks.

“I am.”

“Good. Then, we’ll take it one step at a time.” Ryujin wipes her own tears before shaking it off and smiling at you. “How about we order a bunch of food and drink like the old days, hm? Why don’t you stay over tonight?” You nod, knowing you can just borrow some of Ryujin’s clothes until tomorrow. Ryujin whips up a quick and easy snack for everyone to indulge in before San and Changbin decide to go head to head in Mortal Kombat, while you and Ryujin hang out in her room. It brings you back to the old days, the days when you didn’t have many worries, too much bullshit flooding your head, when the world didn’t feel like it was gonna swallow you whole. The both of you could comfortably sit or lie down in a comfortable silence, each doing your own thing within the same space. Right now, she’s definitely scrolling through aesthetic Youtube shorts next to you, watching people pack their lunches or their night-time routines in a quick second reel.

You, though?

You lie in Ryujin’s bed, constantly typing in Yeosang’s number and deleting it. You pull up his IG and look through his posts, surprised he still has pictures of you posted on there despite the mess you’ve buried him in. Your heart aches when you catch his caption from the most recent post, suddenly the need and want to be in Yeosang’s arms stronger than ever. It’s a picture of you tucked in between his legs while you both sat on the sand, overlooking the ocean. He holds you close, his chest pressed against your back as his arms hang over your shoulders. You remember that day so well— Mingi was out paddleboarding while Keeho and Jungkook were working at the restaurant. You’re laughing [probably at Mingi], while Yeosang is looking down at you with the biggest, brightest smile you’ve ever seen. He’s smiling but his lips are pressed right against the side of your head.

Caption: you.

It’s so simple, yet it says so much about Yeosang and what this means to him. You feel the guilt, the sadness, bubbling in your gut; forcing you to swallow the lump in your throat to somehow help bury the feelings—

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You turn to Ryujin on her bed while the boys have moved ontoo another game in the living room, immediately closing out the instagram app on your phone.

“What was he like?” She smiles softly. “You know, your man from town.” You chuckle, knowing Ryujin hasn’t yet experienced a deep love but isn’t really in a rush to find it. You admire her, truly. She knows not to go looking in the wrong places and to just let it come when it comes.

“He’s the most beautiful person I’ve met. He’s handsome. Charming. Always took care of me and put me first. He settled into town quick, people adored him. He was always helping out where he could. We kinda just.. fell in one piece together.”

“Was it good?”

“Ryu!”

“I’m just wondering!” You don’t respond and she immediately laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Most importantly." You give her a look and she giggles. "He was always showing me how he felt. He wanted to make this work, and he was willing. He wanted to do everything for me and I just didn’t let him because I was scared.” Your voice tapers off.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Wouldn’t it be nice to see the stars up close? I wonder what it’s like to be in space.”

“I imagine it’s beautiful.” Yeosang says as he looks up at the sky with you as you both sit on the rooftop of your apartment complex.

“Yeosang.”

“Yeah?” His eyes are doe-eyed as he looks down at you with curiosity, wondering where your thoughts are right now.

“I wish I could touch a star. Hold one in the palm of my hands.”

“I dunno if that’s possible, pretty girl.” He does a slight head tilt. “Can’t bag it ‘till we try it, right?” You look at him when he starts raising his hand to the sky, pretending to pluck away at the tiny dots in the night sky.

“What’re you doing?” You smile as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m trying to grab you as many stars as possible.”

“Sangie.” You giggle as you watch him continue to pretend and pluck the stars from the sky, setting it aside next to you.

“You asked for the stars, so I’m delivering.”

“You’re the best.” You plant a kiss on his shoulder before resting your chin on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose.

“Only for you.”

❊ END

“I don’t think you have to be, love. He sounds like a genuinely good person.”

“It’s just me.” She brushes your hair back and gives you a small smile.

“He’s here, yeah?” You nod. “When you’re ready, go find him and talk to him. I’m sure he’s out there looking for you and it doesn’t sound like he’s the type to give up.”

“I will.”

“Can I see a picture of him? I won’t do anything, promise.” You pull up a photo of Yeosang on your phone, one of him posing by the beach; the other, him holding you from behind while he presses a kiss to your temple. Ryujin’s eyes light up when she sees how genuinely happy you are in the photo, how much you glow. “He’s gorgeous, Y/N! What the fuck! Does he have friends?!”

“Yeah, he does. I just haven’t met them yet.”

“You two are perfect.” She chuckles as she looks at the picture once more before returning the phone to you. “Hey. Have you talked to your parents?”

“Nope. They don’t even know I’m here.”

“Will you?”

“When I’m ready.”

“What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

“I’ve applied to a couple of vets, the aquarium. Hopefully, I snag a job at the aquarium somehow. It’d be so fun.”

“I hope so, too.”

“I’m proud of you.” Your bestfriend says. “It hasn’t been easy, but look at you. Still going strong. Doing your thing. You’re doing your best.” She pinches your arm playfully. “But, I just want you to be happy. Stop running from the people that bring you happiness, okay? You deserve it. No matter what was said or done in the past.”

“Thank you.” You pull her into a hug and cling onto her for a good minute, taking in the comfort Ryujin brings to you.

The rest of the day goes as it usually does with San, Changbin and Ryujin. Despite the time away, being apart, everything felt completely normal; as if you picked up right where you left off. You take more time to catch up with them over some good eats before walking around the neighborhood and getting some air. You grab some groceries for tonight’s dinner, inviting Jeongin over after he runs some errands with his parents. You like the fact that your friends treat Jeongin like their own sibling, taking care of him well while you were away. He easily blends in as soon as he arrives, stepping into the kitchen to help prep for dinner. You all take the food out to Ryujin’s little porch, setting a fire for the boys to grill some meat. It’s a relaxing night; the weather isn’t too cold, but you definitely can still spot your breath in the air. Ryujin’s neighbors probably hate it when all of you are together because the moment the alcohol kicks in, you all start singing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs. Changbin suddenly flips the switch and wants to tell everyone scary stories he claims are true and some he even witnessed firsthand— not necessarily lessening the noise on the porch because of the back and forth bickering that occurs in between. You’re not really a fan of scary shit, obviously; hence, those movie nights with your friends from town, digging your face into Yeosang’s chest to avoid any contact with the movie. You pull out your phone and start pressing Yeosang’s number into the phone app to try and distract you, but you don’t press call. You just delete, and re-type. It almost feels like your safety blanket at this point.

You could call if you wanted to.

Initially, you had opted for blocking him, but eventually, you knew it’d catch up to you through your friends— Jungkook, Mina, Mingi, Keeho. So, you end up scrapping the plan to get a new phone, a new number entirely. Get rid of IG, any trace of social media. That way, they couldn’t find you. It’s kinda ironic, almost symbolic, how quick and painless it happens at first; almost like a sign that you were meant to start fresh and bring out a clean slate.

Innie, Ryujin and Jungkook’s numbers are the only other ones you memorize by heart. Innie and Ryujin because they’re the closest ones you’ve had throughout all these years, Jungkook because you can count on the times you’ve mustered up the courage to play hooky and call in sick. Or, to pick up his call when you were running late and he was wondering where you were at. That number came up on your screen way too often, but now, you’re kinda glad it turned out that way.

“I’ll be back. I need to make a call.” You tell your friends as you slip away and back into Ryujin’s living room. You dial the number and press the phone to your ear, only waiting 2 rings until Jungkook picks up along with the restaurant’s background noise.

“Hello?”

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N?” There’s a slight pause as you think about your response. “Y/N? Hello?” He repeats.

“Hey.”

“Y/N, what the fuck.” Jungkook leaves the restaurant and heads to the back area where it’s a little quiet. “We’ve been worried about you. Where are you?”

“I’m fine, okay. I’m sorry. I.. broke my phone and needed to get a new one, so this is my new number.” You lie. You lie and you lie, hoping it’ll mask the pain somehow. Hoping people won’t question your decisions and the way you’ve been acting. Why you’ve been running, why you can’t just stay put and let yourself be happy.

“Why didn’t you call someone right away or text us before you left? What the hell is going on?”

“I just have to take care of some stuff at home. I’m sorry.” You repeat, and he sighs heavily. You can’t even see him, but you know he’s running his hand through his black hair. Placing that hand on his hip. Ready to scold you, but doesn’t because he knows you don’t need it right now. He can easily sense how stressed you are, how scared and sad you feel. He hopes you’re truly okay and hanging in there.

“Y/N, you know we would’ve helped you.” He pauses. “And Yeosang—”

“Jungkook, I need you to promise me you aren’t gonna tell anybody anything right now. Let Mingi, Mina and Keeho know I’m okay and that everything’s fine. I’ll talk to them soon, but please. Please don’t say anything else, and please don’t tell Yeosang.” You beg and he sighs.

“Why are you doing this? He came by not too long ago and it’s heartbreaking, dude. I’ve never seen anyone so defeated over something.”

“I’ll— I’ll talk to him soon, Jeon Jungkook, promise me. For real. If we’re friends, you’ll—”

“Okay, okay. I’ll only promise if you promise to talk to him soon, too. Or else, I can’t guarantee I’ll keep this from him forever. He just wants to see you and talk to you, Y/N. He cares about you, and he misses you like crazy. Don’t let him slip away.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you called.” Jungkook adds. “We miss you.”

“I miss you guys, too.” You bite onto your bottom lip to prevent your tears from flowing. “Thank you, Kook.”

“Course. You sure you’re okay? You’re safe, got a place and everything?”

“I am. I promise you.”

“Alright. Call me if you need me. For anything.”

“I will. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Stay safe.” Jungkook ends the call and looks at his phone in some sort of disbelief. He’s relieved he finally heard from you, he knew he would. It was just a matter of time, and it didn’t help that Keeho was constantly on his ass about finding out where you were. He tucks his phone into his pocket just as he walks back into the restaurant, only to be greeted by Keeho himself.

“Where’d you go? Some impatient ass people were asking about their food—” Keeho furrows his brows while taking a better look at him. “What’s wrong, why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Iono, like you saw a fucking ghost or something.” Keeho licks his lips. “Is it Y/N?” Jungkook doesn’t say anything as he continues to wash his hands and finish setting up the plates for said table [who is complaining]. “Yo, Jungkook. What is it? Is she okay? If she’s hurt—”

“She’s not.” Jungkook looks at him and slides over the plates. “She’s fine. She just called me to tell me she was okay.”

“Okay, so why didn’t you call me and Mingi over? We wanna talk to her, too.”

“It’s not that, Keeho. I’m sorry, I know you guys want to, but I don’t think she’s ready yet. I truthfully don’t even think she was ready to call me either.” Jungkook looks at him. “She said she’ll talk to you guys soon but she’s safe and she’s fine.” Keeho lets out a heavy sigh before shaking his head and taking the plates.

“Alright, fine. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Yeah, I am, too.”

“Assuming she hasn’t talked to Yeosang?”

“No, but don’t say anything to him. Let her handle this.” Keeho shrugs.

“Alright, alright.” Jungkook sighs. At the end of the call, all you can do is stare at your phone for a bit before you toss it aside and start crying into your hands. You missed your friends. Your life back in town. You missed Yeosang so, so much. But so much of your insecurities took over, you felt like you didn’t have a choice but to run from them.

What if you would never be good enough for him? How did you deserve someone like Kang Yeosang?

“So, yeah. It’s next week already.” You hear Jeongin say as you finally gather yourself and walk back outside, patting away at your face with the sleeve of your sweater. Jeongin looks over at and senses how your mood has changed. He can see you quickly patting away and wiping at your face while you tuck your phone into your pocket. You sit and tuck your knees close to your chest, and it’s so obvious you had just been crying. He won’t point it out, though. Tonight has already been going well and he’d hate to ruin that.

“Do you have a date or something?” San asks.

“No? I’m just going to go!”

“You’re not seeing anyone?” Jeongin shakes his head shyly.

“No.”

“Aw, baby bread is shy. You like someone at work, don’t you?”

“I don’t! I’ve barely been there for a month!” You giggle, watching as he roasts a marshmallow over the fire to make himself some smores.

“You sure?” You gently nudge him and he smiles.

“I just think there’s someone really pretty, but she’s probably already taken.”

“You never know.” You look at him. “Can I see a picture?”

“I have like.. a group photo we took at the company. We needed to take a new one for the website and I guess.. social media purposes.” He pulls up his phone and shows you the photo. He zooms into her face and lets you take a good look, biting onto his bottom lip when he hears you giggle a little louder.

“She’s very cute. You don’t have her instagram or anything yet?”

“Not yet. We’re not that close yet. But, planning to slowly get to know her more.”

“The party will be a good way to do so.” You zoom out of the picture, eyes quickly scanning the company photo when they land on a very, very familiar face.

In that group photo is Kang Yeosang.

Suddenly, you feel nervous. Sick, all over again. Almost like your cousin can read your thoughts as they quickly pan through your head right at this moment. You don’t know if it’s a good thing that Jeongin works at the same place as him; but, at the same time, you probably should’ve known there was a chance this could’ve happened.

“What? Are you eyeing the guys at the company?”

“No.” You shake your head and give him a tiny smile. “Was just looking at how big the group is. Enjoy yourself at the party, okay? It’ll be fun.”

“Thanks.” Jeongin says, taking his phone back. The crazy thing about Jeongin is that he can already tell there was more to it than you just ‘looking at how big the group is.’ He caught how fast your smile faded and how you shifted in your seat, body suddenly more tense than it was earlier. He looks at the photo one more time when you aren’t looking to see if anything seemed off, but he can’t tell. He just knows someone caught your eye and you won’t be willing to share that information soon.

What if someone in there was the visitor? Chances were low but never zero, right?

As the hours go on, Jeongin heads home a little closer to midnight, while San and Changbin wash the dishes in the kitchen before sleeping on the couch or floor. You and Ryujin lay in her bed again, talking about different things that have come up for her over the years. You’re surprised not much has changed, but Ryujin’s the type to go with the flow— take life as it comes. She falls asleep quickly after she listens to you tell her more stories from town, the people you’ve grown close to, the little things you’d do spending your days off. When she falls asleep, you find yourself pulling up all your pictures and videos again. You turn to your side and face the wall, finding a few tears streaming down your cheek when you revisit old memories.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Y/N!” You continue to run until you feel Yeosang’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him. You let out a loud squeal when he holds you tightly, refusing to let go. “Can’t go anywhere now, hm?”

“Oh, no.” You pretend to be scared. “Guess not.” You turn in his grip and face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’re such a brat.” You laugh, Yeosang’s warm hand coming up your sweater and rubbing against your bare back.

“But you love this brat, don’t you?” He lets out a small chuckle but doesn’t verbally respond. Instead, he dips forward to kiss you on the lips, keeping his movements slow and steady— hoping it’s enough to show you that he does love you. He hadn’t said it out loud at this point, but he does. Yeosang loves you. His hands roam up your sides, gently squeezing as they slowly continue to climb up your sweater. You smile against the kiss, your fingers getting tangled in the ends of his hair.

“Ya’ll please, get a room.” Keeho yells from behind. You break the kiss with a tiny laugh, flipping Keeho off from behind.

❊ END

You feel your bottom lip trembling, more tears threatening to spill when you replay those memories in your head like a film strip. You pull up the phone app again, fingers wanting to dial Yeosang’s number just like they’ve been trying to these past days.

Because you wanna hear his voice.

Tell him you’re sorry.

But, you prevent yourself from doing anything further. Not until you know you’re fully ready to see him and explain everything. Tonight, you’ll continue to stick with your memories, stigck with Yeosang’s voice in your head because this seems to be the safest place.

This is where things are good. This is where things aren’t ruined.

For now.

Time seems to be moving equally slow and quick.

Yeosang isn’t really sure what’s worse, but all he knows is that it’s been a couple of weeks since you two were supposed to meet. Now, it’s time for the work party and he’s having to face it alone. It’s one that he wanted you to be his date for. One that he’s not even in the mood to participate in but his friends are all going and so should he.

So yeah, maybe not alone; But, it sure as hell feels like it when you’re not with him.

He lets out a sigh when he finally goes into the store and tries to find a new pair of slacks and a button up shirt to wear tonight. He’s not even sure what color he’s going for— maybe an all-black fit? He’d typically ask for your opinion by now if you hadn’t already told him what colors you wanted to wear. He hates this, truly hates this.

He walks [mopes] around the store, lazily picking up a grey button up shirt and a black button up. He’s not sure which one he’ll go with yet, and he’s not in the mood to try them on. He carries them around as he continues to walk around the store, looking at other items he could possibly buy. He likes the moment of peace he has right now shopping alone, though he wishes he had specific company. He tries to bury the idea in the back of his head so he can get through today in one piece, but he already feels the struggle piling within him.

It’ll be a long, long day.

After an hour or so, Yeosang finally steps out of the store with a bag in hand after taking his time with the retail therapy. He bought some new outfits— one, of course, for the party that’s happening tonight, and the other, still with you in mind; hoping one day he could wear them and impress you all over again. He sighs to himself as he looks down at his phone, seeing a few notifications from his group chat. He tucks his phone into his pocket and looks out at the busy sidewalk, doing a double-take to his right when he feels like he’s caught a glimpse of the back of your head.

It can’t be you, can it?

Is the universe finally on his side for once?

Yeosang feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach as he rushes through the crowd, quietly spitting out small apologies and ‘excuse me’s’ while weaving through the waves of people.

“Y/N.” He feels like he loses you for a quick moment until he lands sight of you again. He reaches the end of the sidewalk and catches up. The moment his hand falls on the shoulder, he feels like he has finally reached the end of this maze, the final boss of this game. He has hope, a sense of victory, and he can’t wait to see your face—

“Excuse me?”

It’s not you. It’s definitely not you. He could’ve sworn it was, though. And his heart shatters all over again. He’s not sure how much more of a beating it can take; repeatedly trying to piece his heart back together just to have it shatter to pieces.

Being repeatedly stomped on over, and over, and over again.

“I-I’m sorry.” Yeosang says, ripping his hand away from her shoulder. She gives him a confused look before she puts her headphones back in and walks across the street, creating the most distance between herself and him. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, licking his lips as he turns down the street and heads back towards his car.

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you power down a random alley just to get away from the crowd, away from Yeosang—

“Oh my god, where did you even come from?” San asks when you run into his chest as he and Changbin are coming out of another store. “Where’s Ryujin?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Changbin looks at you when he sees you trying to catch your breath, eyes incredibly alert of your surroundings.

“Babe, I lost you for a second! Why did you run off like that?!” Ryujin says, bags in hand as she approaches the group. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just— I’m sorry.” You look at her and shake her head. “I thought I saw someone.”

“Him?” She brushes the hair away from your face when she gets closer, her tiny acts of affection enough to calm you down.

“Mhm.” You barely respond above a whisper. “I’m— I can’t run into him like this.”

“That’s alright.” San looks around. “It’s clear now, right? Let’s go get something to eat up this way.” You nod, letting Changbin and San lead the way while Ryujin continues to stick by your side. She rubs at your arm to try and keep you calm, reassuring you that Yeosang is probably long gone and down the other street.

Which, he is. Doesn’t mean he has stopped thinking about the run-in, though. Yeosang knows that it was you. He knows everything about you, every inch of your body, the way you walk— he knows you probably better than you know yourself. He wishes he caught you sooner because he knows his eyes aren’t deceiving him. He knows, he knows, he knows.

And it’ll be his fucking downfall for the rest of the day. There goes his mood for the party.

“Yeah?” Yeosang picks up Wooyoung’s call through the car’s bluetooth.

“Where are you?”

“Heading back home from running some errands.”

“Can I slide through? Jongho and Chaerin said they were just gonna meet us at the party tonight.”

“Yeah. I’ll be home in about 10 minutes.”

“Alright.” With that, Yeosang ends the call. He has music softly playing in the background just to fill the white noise, but quite frankly, the ride feels a lot quieter than it actually is. Yeosang doesn’t even wanna go tonight, not anymore. He just feels like laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, processing the feeling of having you in his hands just to slip away. Again.

When Yeosang gets home, he lets the front door shut louder than usual— the impact rattling his cabinets, shaking his walls. He sets his things aside, kicks his shoes off to the side and plops onto the couch. He lets his head hang back, shutting his eyes as he lets out a heavy sigh. The peace lasts for all of 2 seconds before Wooyoung comes barreling in, creating his own kind of chaos to make his presence known in the apartment.

“Yoohoo!” He whistles as he drops his things on top of Yeosang’s coffee table. “Did you just buy an outfit for tonight?” Wooyoung digs through Yeosang’s shopping bags.

“Maybe.”

“Biggest fucking procrastinator.” Wooyoung furrows his brows.

“I told you I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go.” Yeosang throws a ‘lil attitude in his response, mainly just irked at how his day went.

“Okay, sorry. Just jokes. What’s wrong?”

“I thought I saw her.” Yeosang opens his eyes and shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the ceiling above him. “Pretty sure it was her, but—” He looks flustered and Wooyoung isn’t even sure how to help him right now. All he can do is just stand and wait for Yeosang to continue. “Nevermind. I just thought I saw her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s good. Maybe this shit isn’t really meant to be, huh?” Yeosang sits up and looks at him, but Wooyoung just shrugs in response.

“I can’t say. I don’t wanna say no, but I don’t wanna say yes either because time keeps going on and she’s still not giving you anything. There aren’t any signs for you to work with and I’m not sure what else I can do or say to help. Maybe it’s time you put it to rest and let the world handle everything else. Stop controlling the shit you can’t control.”

“I guess.”

“Listen.” Wooyoung stands. “The party is tonight. I know you don’t wanna go, but our friends are gonna be there. It’ll be one night where you can let everything go and just enjoy yourself. That’s all I ask from you.” Yeosang turns to look at him and gives him a slow, tiny nod before getting up.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Good. Now, show me what you bought.” Wooyoung stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for Yeosang to try on the items he bought for tonight in particular. In the end, Yeosang ends up going with a simple all-black fit with a button-up halfway done. He has a silver watch on his wrist, silver chain sitting nicely around his neck. Him and Wooyoung take a few shots of some nasty ass whiskey that Wooyoung left at his place months ago before heading out to the venue. It’s deep downtown, a huge convention center with a couple of different rooms to accommodate all sorts of events. The music is already booming, and the place is filled with familiar faces. Yeosang does appreciate it because it’s the one time people can let loose and be a little more casual outside of the work setting.

He just wishes you were here with him.

Wooyoung is quick to socialize and drag Yeosang around to more shots, more champagne, more of everything that Yeo typically doesn’t really enjoy. But, he’ll indulge because what else does he have to lose tonight? The alcohol surely helps loosen him up, and it does help him get his mind off of things temporarily. It’s a nice feeling, and it almost feels foreign with how much his thoughts have been consumed by you these past weeks.

Jongho and Chaerin finally make it to the venue and casually join along to Wooyoung’s shenanigans, and the room feels 10x hotter than it was earlier with more people piling in with their plus one’s and other guests. There’s a little speech prepared by the CEO and leadership team, a congratulatory celebration per say for the goals already achieved at this point in the year. Jeongin is off to the corner with his friends, also feeling somewhat suffocated with how crowded the room feels after being here for just about an hour and a half. But, he tries to remember there’s a first for everything and tonight, he’ll enjoy himself. Get to know the cutie he’s been eyeing and see where it takes him. It’s a good start to the night all around. Both of them won’t complain. Yeosang will step out for a second though because it does get to be a little much when the music becomes more aggressive, the crowd is jumping around— people are drunk-drunk. As with all good nights, they also call for a break.

When he steps outside, he situates himself by the railing and looks out at the view of the city, the river ahead. It feels peaceful, especially with the way the wind is hitting him and providing temporary relief.

“It’s so pretty tonight.” Chaerin surprises him when she comes to his side and rests her hands on the rail.

“Yeah, it is.”

“You okay?”

“Mm, yeah. Crowd was just getting to be a little much. Had to step away for a second.”

“I feel you. Wooyoung is starting a mosh pit in the middle of the floor.” Yeosang rolls his eyes.

“Course.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“What makes you ask?”

“I dunno. Everything going on.” She fiddles with her thumbs before looking back out at the view.

“I guess. Trying to be, at least.”

“Still haven’t heard from her?”

“Nah.” Yeosang shakes his head and his smile drops a bit. “I’m not sure if I will at this point. I just— I don’t know. I don’t know where she’s at or why she's hiding from me. I don’t know where things went wrong.” Yeosang sighs, leaning over against the rail as Chaerin stands next to him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to go on.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry it’s been hard.”

“Don’t be. I’ll figure it out like I’ve always done.” He playfully pinches her cheeks and she giggles.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Hard to feel that way, really.” He lets out a pathetic chuckle as they both continue to look at the view.

“Well, for what it’s worth, she’s missing out. She doesn’t know how good she has it with you.” Yeosang looks at Chaerin, locking eyes with her as she gives him a small smile before subtly licking her lips. The look holds a lot more than she lets on, but Yeosang doesn’t break away from it. He’s caught off guard by what she does next and it doesn’t register for him right away when it happens. She tippy-toes and presses her lips against his, and Yeo indulges in the kiss for a good couple of seconds before abruptly breaking away and finally creating distance. He looks at Chaerin, and all she can do is shy away— placing her hand over her mouth as she avoids eye contact.

“Chaerin, I’m sorry, I—” He sighs. “We can’t—I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles and Yeosang feels his heart break for her because he can’t reciprocate. His heart lies with someone else, despite the bullshit that’s been happening. It’ll always be you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you any mixed signals.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have. Sorry.” She repeats before she’s rushing off back into the main room of the party.

“Chaerin!” Yeosang calls for her before releasing a groan. “Fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair before walking back inside, trying to keep his composure. He runs into Jongho first, and he can’t help but try and read his body language to see if he knows anything already. But, he doesn’t. Thank god for that.

“Have you seen Chae?”

“No, why? Wasn’t she with you?” Yeosang sighs. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“I— we kissed. I just need to talk to her.”

“You did what?!”

“It was an accident.” Yeosang looks at Jongho before he sees Chaerin leave the women’s bathroom from over his shoulder. “There she is.” He says before brushing past Jongho quickly, catching up to Chaerin just as she tries to dip out of the main room and down the steps to the lobby.

“Wait, wait.” Yeosang chases after her and gently tugs on her wrist. “Chae, let’s talk.”

“Yeo, it’s fine. We don’t need to talk about anything.”

“Yes, we do. You’re still one of my bestfriends, I don’t want this to ruin our relationship—”

“It won’t, it’s fine.” She says, even though deep down, Yeosang knows it’s not. But, what can he say? What can he do? He literally can’t move on from you and that’s unfair to her.

“Chaerin.” He looks at her as they stay paused on the steps, people passing back and forth going from outside back into the party and vice versa.

“Yeosang. I’m serious. It’s fine. I don’t know what go into me, it’s my mistake. We can just act like this never happened. I get it, all is fine.” She repeats.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe for giving her false hope? He didn’t necessarily do anything wrong, he thinks. He’s certainly not sorry about you despite the rough circumstances. It will always be you.

God, today was so fucked up.

“Me too.” Is all she says. He knows this will definitely change things from here on out, but he’s hoping over time, they can continue to be the way they used to be. She lays a reassuring hand on his arm before giving it a gentle squeeze, wanting to move past this just for tonight. Chaerin’s already embarrassed by her actions enough, she doesn’t wanna dwell on it any further. Fuck.

“Excuse me—” Jeongin says, absentmindedly brushing past Yeosang and Chaerin on the steps since he’s more concerned about getting past the crowd in one piece.

“Sorry.” Yeosang steps aside and grabs Chaerin’s hand. “Come on, come back inside with me, please?” She nods, following Yeosang’s lead back into the main room. They find Wooyoung and Jongho at the bar, and Jongho gives him a look that asks if everything is okay. Yeosang simply gives him a tiny, toothless smile, allowing Wooyoung to order more drinks for them to keep the night alive.

Another drink turns into a couple. Yeosang always finds himself drinking more than usual around Wooyoung and Jongho, trying to keep up with their antics. Most of the time, he can. Tonight though, he knows he’s overdoing it and should’ve stopped a whole three drinks ago. He’s dancing away on the dance floor with his friends, Chaerin in and out of the group to hang out with her other friends from another department; most likely her way of trying to distract herself and distance herself from Yeosang tonight. He can’t help but look for her in the crowd every now and then, hoping she’s okay. Other times, he finds himself dancing along with other people from the company, mixing along with the crowd as it continues to mesh into one huge crowd the more people pile into the room. Yeosang eventually has to find the guys again, finding that they’ve separated into different corners of the room. He finds Wooyoung first, bobbing and weaving through people in order to get to his bestfriend when he realizes it’s time for another break. Bathroom break, especially.

“Yo, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Yeo lets Wooyoung know before struggling to move past the rest of the crowd and into the bathroom. Thankfully, he makes it in time to break the seal and splash a little water on his face— cheeks flushed, palms sweaty. He’s drunk, and for a minute, he was enjoying himself. Now, he’s drunk and he’s missing you. He splashes a bit more water on his face before he’s dabbing a paper towel across it and tossing the crumpled napkin into the trash. He takes a detour and heads down the steps to get some fresh air, feeling slightly suffocated from the packed room, the loud ass music. His thoughts of you.

The cold air feels amazing against his skin, and it’s helping him feel a little more grounded than he felt a few moments ago. He pulls out his phone and sees a missed call from an unknown number, and for some reason, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the gut. And truthfully, you didn’t mean to press call. You did not mean for that call to go through whatsoever. Your phone had slipped and almost hit you in the face while you laid on your bed, thumbs pressing all sorts of shit just to keep it stable in your hands again. Next thing you knew, the call was going through. You ended the call as quickly as possible, but you knew it was too late. Yeo would’ve seen it by that point. He knows, he knows, he knows.

The first thing Yeo does is press the number and call you back. You gasp when you see his number appear on your screen, heart damn near beating out of your chest when you hit accept— pressing the phone to your ear even though you say nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Y/N?” You hear Yeosang’s voice on the other line. You place a hand over your mouth when you feel the tears already building on your bottom lid, unsure of why you even picked up in the first place when you knew it’d lead you right where you’re at now. “Y/N, I know it’s you.” He sighs. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I need you to talk to me at some point. I’m still waiting for you.” Silence. Yeosang is drunk, and his emotions are getting the best of him, especially when he follows up with: “Y/N, baby.” You quickly end the call and sit up, your cries completely washing over your entire body. You cry and cry into your hands, cursing yourself for letting this shit happen. Why did you have to make it so complicated? Why couldn’t you just tell him you missed him right then and there? Why couldn’t you just say anything?

Yeosang pulls the phone away and looks at the home screen, navigating back to your new number on his call log. He presses the phone to his ear as he paces near the venue entrance, hoping you’ll pick up again. It rings before the call is denied and sent to voicemail. He calls again, and it goes to voicemail. Again, then voicemail.

“Y/N.” He groans under his breath. “Fuck.” Now, all Yeo wants to do is go home. All he’s set on is going home. Fuck this. Fuck the party, fuck everything that happened tonight. He can’t even come home to you, and that’s what’s fucking him up completely.

“About time?! What happened to you, did you yack?” Wooyoung looks at Yeo in the eyes, trying to find any signs of an apparent struggle. Yeo shakes his head to confirm it wasn’t that, nor does he explain himself further.

“I’m about to head home.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me come with—” Wooyoung can tell something isn’t right, and he wants to be there for his bestfriend.

“No. Just stay. Promise I’m all good, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m just tired.”

“Uh, alright then. Text me when you get home. Don’t forget.”

“Got you.” Yeosang gives him the usual dap before he’s saying his goodbye to Jongho. He tries to search the room for Chaerin, but can’t find her— ultimately opting to see her next week at work and give her space tonight. He darts back down the steps and hops into the next taxi that becomes available on the street.

Thank god it isn’t a far drive, or else, he’d hate to sit in this akward taxi drive in complete silence. Just him and his loud ass thoughts, actually. He contemplates on dialing your number again, but with the three attempts and no return calls coming his way, it’s obvious you mistakenly called him. The call didn’t mean anything, he didn’t mean anything. You wanted nothing to do with him and who is he to fight that? Who is he to force you to feel a certain way?

Oh, if he only knew what truly went on in your head.

Yeosang thanks the driver and gives him a hefty tip in cash, specifically for letting him take a quiet ride home— giving him the opportunity to ponder on what his next move with you is going to be. That entire time, he comes up with nothing. He will absolutely do nothing. He will do nothing because now that he’s tried to tell you where he was at in all of this, now that he’s reminded you that he’s still here— he needs to know if you’re still here, too. He needs to know if you still need to talk to him, still want him, still want to kiss and hold him like he does. He needs to know, and the only way he’ll get the proper answer is by letting you make the next move. Letting you take initiative. He shouldn’t have to. He wasn’t the one that ran away.

He still hates everything, though. It’s easy to stay mad and be mad that you don’t even realize how much energy is draining from you thinking about the current situation and all its different avenues, it feels frustrating. It’s annoyingly frustrating, and so far, it feels like none of the avenues lead him back to you.

So, he needs to know. From you directly.

He takes a quick shower and hops into bed, still staring at his call log. He doesn’t do anything besides stare at it because any other way doesn’t feel safe enough for him. He hopes after this, the universe can send him another sign that’ll show him the way to you, how to get back with you, things to fix on himself before he comes and tries to sweep you off your feet again. He’s still determined to be that guy for you, if you’d let him. He’s just not sure what this means for you, and it makes him sad.

He needs you to let him know. Soon.

You stare at the three missed calls on your phone from Yeosang. The last one has a voicemail he probably didn’t intend to leave because you hear him groan your name in frustration before it cuts off. You replay the message once more before you toss your phone to the side and start getting ready to take a small walk around the neighborhood, grab some coffee and a pastry from a nearby café. The fresh air will do you good, and it will help put you in the right place mentally before your interviews coming up. You were able to lock in three interviews; one at a small, private vet, one at a bigger veterinary hospital downtown and one at the aquarium. Either way, you were excited to finally get started on your dream, your own path. You’d take whatever route life paved for you because at the end of it, it’ll only lead you to more doors, more opportunities.

While sitting at the café, you snap a few pictures of the interior and how pretty it is. You also snap a few pictures of the alleyway and a few passerbyers, wondering what each person’s story is like. If Yeosang were here, you’re sure he’d make you pose in the middle of the alley, or snap random photos of you while sitting in front of him. The thought makes you smile a bit, causing you to shift in your seat. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, wondering how you could break the ice and finally talk to Yeosang about everything because it’s something that’s constantly on your mind despite all the running and the empty calls. Each day that passes makes you more and more ready to face him, to tell him the truth. It has taken baby steps, but you know you’ll make it to the end. You know you’ll face him regardless of how hard it’ll get, you know you’ll apologize and tell him how much you still love him regardless of how he takes it. And then after all is said and done, maybe that’ll be it for the two of you. You hope not, but what if?

What if that’s where the story ends?

You end up walking into a few stores after sitting in the café, treating yourself to a few new pieces of clothes you could wear to the interview. It feels nice to do a little more retail therapy, your me-time turning into something you desperately needed without even realizing. You head home with a smile on your face, satisfied with the purchases you’ve made. You try on different outfits when you get home, tossing your clothes all over the place once you’re satisfied with some of the combinations you’ve tried on.

“Ayo! Got you some food.” Jeongin yells while walking into your place.

“Oh, shoot! Time already?” You look at the clock before shooting him a smile. “Thanks, Innie.” You watch him pop off his shoes before rearranging your clothes in your closet. “I’ll be there in a second, just cleaning and getting my stuff together.” Jeongin puts the bag of food down on the table, taking a seat while he patiently waits. He texts his friends back before looking around on the table, eyeing the random papers and pictures sitting off to the side. He grabs at the photos out of curiosity, flipping through them and not thinking much of it. “Ugh, where is it!” He hears you suddenly groan as you continue to sort through your stuff, head deep in your closet this time.

“What is it?”

“My license and passport.”

“Where did you last put it?” He asks as he goes through the fun, candid pictures of you and your friends from town.

“In my other purse, but it’s not here.” A small smile is painted on his face as he sees how happy you are with everyone. But then, he finds himself stopping when he sees pictures of you and the visitor. His forehead crinkles because he knows this man. He’s seen— “I found it!” You say with a squeal, tucking your ID and passport into your usual day-to-day bag. You don’t hear anything from Jeongin, so you turn to face him and realize he’s going through the pictures you left on the table. You slowly approach him and notice the photo he’s fixed on, your first instinct to snatch them out of his hands and store it back into the nightstand drawer. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to leave these here.”

“Oh, no biggie.” He watches as you continue to fix the photos and papers back into your nightstand drawer, avoiding eye contact with him. “A-are those your friends, Y/N?” You hear him ask as you stop on one of the pictures of you and Yeosang.

“Yeah.” You nod, throat feeling like it’s closing in on you. “Those are my friends.”

“Is that him?” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You shut the drawer before letting out a breath and keeping your composure. “Anyway, what’d you bring?” You smile at him and sit in front of him. “I wanna hear all about the dance.” Jeongin looks at you with concern when you quickly change the subject, unpacking the bag and laying out the food on the surface of the table. “Yum! Bulgogi!”

“Uh, it was good!” He manages to spit out, trying to keep up with the conversation even though his mind is stuck on that picture. You grab a few small plates and utensils, placing it in front of Jeongin and your own seat at the table.

“Did you get to dance with her?”

“Oh my god.” Jeongin says, shaking his head as he begins to pick at the side dishes first. “That definitely wasn’t the vibe last night.”

“What do you mean, it was a party, no?”

“It was. There was an open bar and appetizers. There was a dance floor and everything, but like, you know. Everyone kept it PG and professional even though it was crowded as hell. Music was good, too!”

“I mean, you can dance with her professionally and stuff.” You smirk.

“We did, with our other coworkers.”

“Did you get to talk and get to know her a bit more?” He nods.

“I did. She’s really cute.” He lets out a small laugh.

“Aw, yay!”

“I had fun. It was cool for a work party.”

“What time did you get home?”

“Hm, a bit past 2am. It ended at 11, then we all went out to eat. Karaoke. Then, that was about it.”

“That sounds fun, Innie. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“What’d you do last night and earlier today?”

“I hung out with Ryu. She actually came over and we watched movies over some ice cream. Earlier, I just took a walk and sat at a café for a bit before doing some shopping. Tried to get myself into a good space for the interviews coming up.”

“Oh, yeah! When is that? Next week?” You nod.

“Yup.”

“You got this! You’ll get all of them, no doubt. Just a matter of what you’ll wanna do in the end.”

“Thanks, Innie.”

“Have you talked to your friends from town?” He suddenly asks and you shrug.

“I talked to one of them, but I haven’t talked to the others yet. I will, once I’ve gotten these interviews done with.”

“Hm.” He hums. “That’s good, at least you talked to one of them. I just didn’t want them to worry about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to talk to the rest of them, don’t worry.”

“Mmkay.” Jeongin forces himself to stop asking questions, especially about the other pictures. He can tell you’re getting affected with the way you’re slowly shutting down and avoiding contact again. Sentences are cut short. You’re almost mumbling your words.

He’ll take it as a sign to stop pressing further, especially because he wants you to be okay for your interviews coming up.

The rest of the late lunch goes by without more digging from Jeongin’s end. He decides to talk more about the party and about his coworkers. He tells you how he gets along with his team members, and how patient his seniors are with him. He appreciates it and he hopes he can be offered a permanent position there. If not, he hopes he can find another company with similar vibes: great values, easy going and patient team members, yet incredibly smart and good at what they do. He’s been learning a lot and it’s easy to tell that Jeongin has been enjoying his time there. Then, he touches up on the topic of his parents and how they had been questioning why he had been going out so much lately. You reassure him and tell him that you plan to talk to your parents, assuming all goes well with your interviews. This time though, you plan to work through it slowly, keep your distance if they aren’t being receptive. Just for your own sake. They’re your parents and you know one day you’ll be able to fully forgive them for the things they’ve said and done— but since they’re your parents, you know you’ll always love them even if it has to be from afar.

This time, you plan to keep doing things for you.

After spending a good couple of hours together, Jeongin calls it a day and leaves to rest for the remainder of the day. He tugs his hood over his head and clings onto his shoulder bag, making his way back home from your place. He’s confused, and he’s honestly in a bit of shock still. Jeongin can’t get the picture out of his head. It’s mindblowing how pieces to the puzzle just fall onto his lap, and now, he feels like he can be of better help to you. Even though you were quick to snatch the photo away, Innie was able to get a good look at it. He knows who that guy is. He knows exactly where he’s seen him, and it’s crazy that the answer has been right in front of him this entire time.

❊ FLASHBACK

The first day Yeosang steps back into the office, he’s greeted by a couple of people that are happy to have him back. Everyone compliments on the glow he’s sporting and how happy and refreshed he seems to be. He can’t help but shyly laugh about it, a red tint coloring his cheeks when he tells them he’s had a good time and that he might’ve met someone really special there. He sets his things down onto his desk, fixing up a few things before he heads towards the kitchen with his mug in hand. There are a few interns sitting in one of the main conference rooms, and Yeosang is able to get a good look at them on his way to the kitchen. They all look fairly young, as if they had just graduated. One sits at the far corner in a loose grey button up shirt tucked into his slacks, black frames sitting on his face. He gives Yeosang a tight-lipped smile when they accidentally make contact, making Yeosang give him a curt nod in response.

“Hella interns.” Wooyoung throws his arm around Yeosang as they continue to walk to the kitchen.

“Do we have one?”

“No. I think most of them are in R&D. Operations. A select few in marketing and media.”

❊ END

When Jeongin wakes up on Monday morning, he makes it a goal to get to work a little earlier so he can prepare and step in to be some kind of hero— how he’s gonna pull it off, he’s not sure. He fixes a few things at his cubicle before he heads back upstairs to the main kitchen, where the coffee maker is always stocked and running. To his surprise, Yeosang is already there, waiting for his cup to be filled. Jeongin slowly treads into the kitchen, the feeling in his gut about Yeosang being confirmed when he sees his phone face down on the counter next to the coffee machine.

Sitting on the back is a polaroid of you, smiling happily and posing near the water.

“Uh, hi.” Jeongin steps a little closer, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat. It’s just the fact that Yeosang was his senior that he already felt intimidated but he knew he needed to speak up before it was too late.

“Goodmorning?” Yeosang cocks a brow up. He’s familiar with the intern, and he doesn’t mean to come off as rude or anything. He’s just not sure what he needs from him. Can’t wait to get his coffee? Unsure how to work the coffee machine? They end up in an awkward staring competition until Jeongin clears his throat.

“Sorry. I’m Jeongin.” He holds out his hand for Yeosang to shake, and he takes it.

“Yeosang.”

“I— this might sound really weird, but I know the girl on your phone.” He pauses. “She’s my cousin. I dunno if she ever told you my name, but we’ve spoken on the phone a few times while you were there. She calls me Innie.” Yeosang furrows his brows as he slowly removes his cup from the coffee machine and grabs his phone, eyes glued onto Jeongin. He can tell Jeongin feels bad for him, almost like he pities him. He feels like everyone pities him at this point. Shit is sad. But, before he can deny anything about you, Jeongin follows up with a: “I know where she is and I wanna help.” Yeosang almost drops his cup of coffee. This can’t be real.

“I appreciate it, but it’s pretty clear your cousin doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Jeongin shakes his head.

“It’s not that, it’s—” He sighs. “It’s just that she’s been through alot and she’s scared. I can explain. I know it probably doesn’t hold much weight coming from me and not her directly, but at least it’s a start.” Jeongin looks at him. “I just wanna help. I know she’s been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, but I’ve also caught her crying one too many times over this. I think it’s about time.” Yeosang turns to him, cup of coffee still in his hand. It’s crazy how much Jeongin reminds him of you already, he should’ve known there was something about him when he first saw him.— that something being you.

“What time do you usually take lunch?” Jeongin shrugs.

“Whenever.”

“Wanna meet me in the cafeteria at 12:30? We can talk more about it then.” Yeosang says just as he hears Wooyoung, Jongho and Chaerin making their way to the kitchen.

“Okay. See you later.”

“You’re alive, you piece of shit. I told you to text me when you got home and you didn’t even try to text me all weekend.” Wooyoung scolds Yeosang before shifting his attention to Jeongin. “Hello intern!”

“Hi.” Jeongin gives them all a small smile and a curt nod before grabbing his own cup of coffee and rushing out of the room.

“I forgot, sorry.” Yeo responds to Woo. “I was out of it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What were you and the intern talking about?” Jongho asks, popping his mug under the coffee machine. “Did he not know how to work the coffee machine?”

“Uh, no.” Yeosang traces the rim of his cup while his friends rummage around the kitchen. “That was Y/N’s cousin.” Wooyoung chokes on his americano.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“That was her cousin.” Yeosang repeats.

“So, what happened?”

“He said he knew where she was.” Yeosang shrugs. “I’m gonna talk to him at lunch.”

“Bro, you’ll finally find her!” Jongho smiles, but all he can do is shake his head in response.

“Doesn’t mean she wants to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m sure she wants to explain everything.”

“Why hasn’t she then?”

“Let him help. He might be able to push you two back together, and she may just need that.”

“Yeah.” Is all Yeosang says. He turns to Chaerin, who is quietly stirring the sugar and cream in her coffee. She hasn’t said one word to him, nor has she even looked at him since she stepped into the room. Yeosang gently nudges her and gives her a smile, but she can still barely hold contact with him. “Goodmorning. You okay?”

“Yup!” Is all she says. “Glad Y/N’s cousin was able to find you and talk to you a bit. Hope it works out.” She gives him the tiniest toothless smile she’s ever given anybody, and Yeo knows she’s really only doing it to brush him off and get him off of her case. “Anyway, I have a ton of work to catch up on. See you guys later?” She rushes out.

“I thought you two were okay.”

“I thought we were, too.”

“Why is she being weird around you?” Wooyoung cocks a brow up. “Did you guys kiss or something?” Jongho sips his coffee while Yeosang diverts his attention to his watch.

“I gotta get started on those emails—”

“I was literally just joking. Hurry, someone tell me it’s a joke.”

“Let’s go.” Jongho squeezes his shoulder and pushes Wooyoung out of the kitchen. “Stories for other days.”

“You two fucking kissed?!”

“Shut up.” Yeosang says through gritted teeth as he looks behind him and glares at Wooyoung. “This is why I can’t tell you shit sometimes.”

“Oh my god, when?! At the party?”

“I’m not doing this right now. It was an accident.” Yeosang mumbles as he sets himself down at his desk and begins to pull up his emails.

“The hell it was.” Wooyoung snorts.

“Leave it alone.” Jongho laughs, pushing Wooyoung aside. “He’s got enough to deal with.”

“So? He’s also a grown ass man who can handle it. Right, boss?” Wooyoung leans over to Yeosang and winks. “I expect a full page report by end of the day.”

“Fuck off.” He shoves Wooyoung out of the way and begins to focus on his work. Though, it’s pretty hard when he’s constantly checking the clock and waiting for 12:30pm to come around. He manages to pull through and surprisingly multitask— trying to figure out the questions he has for Jeongin, while also trying to collect his thoughts about this whole thing. There’s no doubt the conversation will be awkward, but the last thing Yeosang wants is for Jeongin to feel like he’s attacking you and angry.

He is angry, but he’s trying to find ways to suppress the feeling and instead, be understanding. Open-minded. Patient.

When 12:30pm hits, Yeosang bids farewell to his friends that head across the street to grab lunch at the restaurant in front of the building. He grabs some soup and a side of salad, setting his stuff down at a table near the far corner of the cafeteria. Jeongin is equally nervous as he is scared because he’s not sure how this whole thing is gonna go down. He hopes the plan won’t backfire and Yeosang doesn’t blow up at him in front of everybody here. He grabs his helping of food before he pauses in his steps and searches the room for a familiar face. He sees Yeosang sitting at a table, only to be met with a small wave when Yeosang meets his eyes.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” Yeosang looks at him before letting out a small chuckle.

“Nah. It’s no big deal.” Jeongin sips on his water before laying his phone out. Yeosang sees his wallpaper and it’s you two with other family members, posing during Christmas time. He assumes it was years ago when you were still around for family parties. You both have on matching pajamas and silly Christmas hats or glasses. “Had I known it was you she was talking about, I would’ve reached out sooner.”

“How’d you find out?”

“I went to her place the other day and saw some pictures of you two scattered across her table. I flipped through most before she took them and hid them in her drawer.”

“Glad to know she at least still has the pictures.”

“She does. She’s not gonna toss those.” Jeongin takes a bite of his food. “I didn’t mean to be nosy earlier, by the way. I was already questioning myself until I saw the photo on your phone. Kinda helped.”

“It’s all good.” Yeosang sips his soup. “Is she safe?”

“She is. She’s here.” Yeosang pauses before he sets his spoon down completely. So, he wasn’t hallucinating when he ran into you that one day. It was you. “She has her own place and everything. She’s been here for about a few weeks.”

“How many weeks exactly?”

“I dunno, 4? A month, I guess?”

“We were supposed to meet at the end of last month.” Jeongin cocks a brow up.

“She never showed up?”

“No.”

“Hm.” Jeongin hums. “Pretty sure she was already here by then.”

“I don’t know if that makes it any better for me knowing she was.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeongin slightly pouts. “She’s.. she’s been through a lot. I know it’s not an excuse, especially one I can say on her behalf, but she does this. I’m trying really hard to help her so she doesn’t keep running from her problems and everything. I just think she’s gotten so used to doing it that it has become the safest option for her.”

“I understand. Do you mind telling me more about it?”

“She was engaged. She gave her ex everything, and I mean everything. She isolated us just to keep him happy, did everything for him, always stood by his side even though he gaslighted and manipulated her. He really wasn’t good for her.” Jeongin rolls his eyes, still angry at your ex for the way he treated you. “They fought more after they got engaged and he pretty much took everything back. Found out he was having an affair behind her back for months. It was his dumb way of saying their relationship ran its course and that he didn’t wanna do this with her anymore.” Yeosang feels his hand balling into a fist hearing about how incredibly disrespectful your ex was and how fucked up the whole thing turned out to be. Still, it doesn’t excuse the behavior and he wishes you didn’t look at him as someone who would hurt you, too. He would never. He genuinely loves you and would take care of you properly— should you let him. That’s all he wants. “And then on top of that, her parents were pretty harsh on her. All they kept doing was pushing her to be something she wasn’t. The more she refused, the more they treated her like shit. Her dad kept saying she was useless and that he didn’t think he’d have to deal with a daughter who didn’t have purpose.” Yeosang shakes his head. “It all happened around the same time. She wouldn’t stop crying and crying.” Jeongin shakes his head and pokes at his food. “She was so destroyed. She felt like all the people she loved were constantly telling her and showing her that she wasn’t good enough or that she wasn’t worth it. That she didn’t have a purpose. No one wanted to be with her or stick by her side because she was nothing.”

“Not to me.” Yeosang mutters.

“I know.” Jeongin looks at him. “I know you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“How, though? We barely met a few hours ago.” Yeosang smiles a bit.

“I just do. She’s kept all your pictures, I know she keeps checking her phone even though she got a new number and everything. She thinks about you a lot, and it’s obvious. I’ve seen her cry because she was hurt, but now I see her cry because she misses you and she’s not sure how to explain herself to you.” Jeongin tilts his head. “Do you still wanna be with her? I’ll keep this between us. I know time has passed and the way everything happened was so abrupt.”

“Of course I do. There’s nothing more that I want than to be with her. I’ve just been trying to be patient. I’ve been trying to wait and give her the space she needs because I respect her and care about her more than anyone knows. But, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” The moment the statement slips from Yeosang’s lips, his heart falls to his stomach. He’s tired of waiting, and even though he doesn’t want this to end, he’s not sure what he’s waiting for anymore. Especially after the call. He just needs to see you. “She accidentally called me the other night during the party. I called her back and she picked up but she didn’t say anything on the other line. I told her she didn’t have to respond, but I needed her to know I was still here for her. Then, she just hung up.” Jeongin sighs.

“Can you meet her tonight? I’m sorry if that’s soon. I think it’s time.”

“How is that even gonna work? If she knows I’m there, she won’t see me.”

“She will. She doesn’t have to know. I can tell her I’m coming by for dinner and you can be there instead of me. Like, 6pm?” Yeosang nods. Jeongin grabs his phone and starts pulling up your text thread, immediately typing away.

“Wait, are you sure about this?”

“Mhm.” Is all he says as he sends the text. He shoves the phone towards Yeosang’s way, letting him see your response as it comes up on the screen.

[jeongin]: dinner tonight?

[you]: sure!

[jeongin]: i’ll swing by after i’m off. probably 6ish.

“She’s gonna be pissed at you.” Yeosang says and Jeongin shrugs.

“She won’t. It’ll be all good. Trust me on this. You two really need to talk.”

“Thanks. For this.”

“No need to thank me, seriously. I hope it helps. I just—“ Jeongin sighs. “I want her to be happy. I need her to know she deserves this happiness, too.”

“I want her to be happy, too. Whether that’s with me or not.”

“You know, when she used to call me back while she was in town, she used to sound so giddy and happy. Found out it was because of you being around. It made me happy hearing her talk the way she was talking. Always so excited to get on with her day and see you.” Yeosang gives him a tiny smile before doing a slight head tilt.

“Wait, so. She never told you my name or anything?”

“Nope. I don’t even know the names of her friends. Well, I guess, your friends now, too.” Jeongin looks up as if deep in thought before shaking it off and continuing to eat. “I don’t think she was trying to hide you or anything. I think she wanted to keep her two lives separate. I’m not sure why.”

“It’s alright.” Yeosang hopes he’ll hear the explanation from you directly, no matter how long it takes. He won’t push you to say it, but he hopes— he hopes you’ll take the initiative to tell him why.

“I’ll send you her address and the door code.” Jeongin slides his phone back over to Yeosang for him to put his number in. As soon as Yeosang hands it back, Jeongin sends him the address as promised. When Yeosang reads the preview on his phone, he almost lets out a hefty audible sigh at how close your new place is to his.

“She lives near me.” Yeosang says with a pathetic chuckle. He isn’t directing it to Jeongin, more so voicing his disappointment at how close you were. Yet, he wasn’t able to catch you once. Yet, you felt so incredibly distant, as if miles and miles were in between. “She’s been around this entire time and I didn’t even know she was that close.”

“I’m sorry. I really hope this fixes things. Or, is at least the start.”

“I appreciate it. A lot.”

“Well, you can always text or call me for anything now that you have my number. I’m here to help as much as I can.” Yeosang nods, watching as Jeongin finishes his food and sips the last of his water. “I gotta head back into the lab. Thanks again for taking your lunch with me.”

“Same to you.” Jeongin waves just as he stands to throw away his trash and heads back to his work. Yeosang, however, takes a moment to sit and sort through his thoughts; navigating through every scenario he can think of for tonight’s encounter. He wasn’t planning on doing this so soon, but he’s glad he has the opportunity to. He just wants to see you, even though he knows this will hurt. Even though he knows this won’t start off easy. He turns when he hears rain starting to pound against the window, wondering if the sudden downpour has some sort of hidden meaning, some kind of symbolism he should pay attention to behind everything happening.

He watches the rain and wonders if you’re okay. If you’re safe and dry. If you wore a jacket even though you despise wearing one so much because it ‘ruins your outfit.’

Time moves painfully slow, especially during the last few minutes of the workday. Yeosang has tried to keep himself busy as much as possible, even offering to take some tasks off of his coworker’s plate just to continue distracting himself. As soon as it’s time for Yeo to clock out, he bids farewell to his friends and speeds out of the building. The rain is still steadily pouring and he hates that he has to drive in this because it means there’s more traffic on the road that he’ll have to sit through. For once, he wishes he was wrong, because now, not only does he have to sit in traffic, but he has to sit in traffic alone with his thoughts. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, though; the more he sits with his thoughts, the more he’s able to accept that whatever happens tonight is meant to happen.

Damn.

When he finally hops off the congested highway and exits onto a familiar street, he navigates through the roads before pulling into a small alley. It’s literally about ten minutes on the opposite end from where he lives, and if he wanted to, he could make this walk on a good day. The street you live on is quite narrow that he’s having to park behind a few cars up and walk down to the gate that leads to the entrance of the main house. He plugs in the code Jeongin sent him and steps in, following his direction of walking towards the side of the house to a door near the back corner. He can hear your soft music playing through the window and he has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat because it’s unreal he’s about to face you again after all this time.

Knock, knock, knock.

“It’s about time, I—” You tilt your head in confusion, suddenly feeling queasy when you don’t see Jeongin at your door and instead, you find Yeosang. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see his face. The damp hair strands sticking to his forehead from the rain. His damp button-up, raindrops painting a pattern across his shoulders. His deep brown eyes, long lashes. He’s the only true definition of love you’ve ever known, and he’s standing in front of you again after weeks have gone by. “Yeosang. W-what are you doing here?”

“Your cousin.” He places his hand on the door, hoping you won’t shut it close on his face. He really needs this right now— you both really need this right now. “I think we need to talk.” You’re not able to form any responses, so all you can do is quietly step aside to let him in. He steps out of his shoes and looks around your in-law. It’s awfully similar to your place back in town, and a wave of nostalgia hits him even though he’s here with you. Things just don’t feel the same though, and he hates it.

“How do you know my cousin?”

“We work together.” He looks at you when you finally come to his side and tuck your arms close to your chest.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to say. “You can leave your jacket on the chair. Do you need water—”

“Y/N.” He calls you firmly. “Stop.”

“Yeosang, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” It’s the best thing you can come up with because you truly weren’t prepared for Yeosang to show up on your doorstep. It should be easy because it’s him. But at the same time, it’s difficult because it’s him.

“Why don’t you start by telling me why?”

“I’m sorry—”

“I waited for you. You told me you’d be there and you weren’t. You were here the whole time and you didn’t even try to come see me?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.” He says, stepping closer. “How am I supposed to understand when you won’t even explain what’s going on?”

“I was scared.”

“Scared about what?” He has this look on his face and it screams every fear you’ve had, especially about your relationship. You know this is fully your own thoughts trying to ruin you, to become your downfall— but, still, you hate the way he looks at you and all you’re itching to do is run. “Y/N, I’m trying to understand. Tell me.” His voice is soft, calming. He can pick up on the feelings your exuding, the fear, the anxiety, and that’s not what he came here for. He came here to see you, to understand you, to listen.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“I was afraid you’d realize this wasn’t what you wanted. I mean, I’m all sorts of messed up. Full of baggage and insecurities. You’ll get tired and you’ll realize I’m not worth—”

“Woah, stop.” Yeosang shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to stop you right there. When have I ever showed you this is how I felt about you? Because it’s the complete opposite. I don’t care about all that because I wanna work through it with you. Not once did I ever think any of this wasn’t worth it, even until now.”

“You say that now!”

“I say that now and I’ll say it later, too!” Yeosang matches your tone. “Why would I do all of this if I wasn’t serious about you? I’d go through all of this with you—”

“I didn’t wanna put you through it because you deserve better—”

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Y/N!” Yeosang’s tone rises, and you almost flinch at how [understandably] angry he is right now. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat causing his jaw to tick. “Why would you assume that about me? About us? Because you’ve been fucked up and damaged in the past? Aren’t we all fucking jaded in one way or another? Why would you compare me to him?”

“I’m sorry.” Your response falls to a whisper as you break into a sob. Yeosang is having to look away with his jaw clenched because he’s angry. He’s livid. But, he hates seeing you cry and he can’t stand it. “I got scared. I didn’t know if I’d be good enough for you.”

“You are always going to be more than enough.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I should apologize for your ex’s shitty actions as much as I want to. I know he hurt you and that was fucked up of him to do. I’m sorry it still hurts you. But, I’m not him, Y/N. I will never be. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like I would hurt you or make you feel like you were temporary to me. That’s hurtful. Everything you pulled—” His jaw ticks as he pauses and paces around the room, hand placed on his hip. “You have no fucking idea how hard it was. Not even just for me, but for your friends, too. Why? Why would you just leave? Why would you just leave me?”

❊ FLASHBACK

Yeosang lets out a deep sigh as soon as he parks his car. His body feels incredibly heavy, and he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He’s sad, and it’s an indescribable type of sadness. He’s never been here before, and quite frankly, he doesn’t know how to navigate this.

He plops onto his couch, feeling incredibly defeated after waiting, and waiting. And waiting. His anxiety is through the roof when he calls your number over and over again, even though he knows where it’ll lead him— an automated bot telling him the number’s no longer in service. He’s tried everything and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should leave and search all over town for you, he doesn’t know if he should sleep this off and hope he’ll see a message from you in the morning.

He doesn’t know.

He grabs a coaster from his coffee table and tosses it against the wall out of frustration, digging his head into his hands when he can’t help but cry. He should’ve known this would happen. He should’ve known there was a chance you’d leave.

But he didn’t, and now he’s fucking hurt because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, and god, is it the most painful thing to dwell on right now.

He just doesn’t know.

❊ END

“All I ever wanted to do was take care of you and love you the way you deserved to be loved. If you didn’t wanna do this, you could’ve just said so.” Yeosang says softly. “We both didn’t have to go through this if you had just been honest.”

“Yeosang, it’s not that, I just—” But, you’re sorry because you didn’t mean to fuck this up entirely. You’re sorry because you probably lost the one person who genuinely cared and loved you for you. You’re sorry because you wish you knew better and you wish you had a better explanation. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think we both just need more time right now. More space. Maybe it’ll help you figure out what you really want.” He says softly, thumb coming to your cheek to wipe your tears away. As much as he hates leaving you like this, the both of you know it’s the best move. You’ll continue to cry and apologize, and Yeosang will succumb to everything. He’ll always be there for you, but at this point, he is no longer in control of the situation and needs you to come to him when you’re ready. You will need to realize on your own that he is with you, not against you. You will need to realize he is someone you can trust, someone who loves you more than words can explain. He’ll wait— he always has and he will.

“Don’t leave.” It’s so selfish of you to ask when you’ve done the complete opposite to him, but you can’t help it now that he’s in front of you. You wrap your arms around him and he holds you close, lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head to try and calm you down.

“I’m not. But, I can’t do this alone, Y/N.” Is all he says and it’s enough to show you just how much this means to Yeosang— how much you mean to him and what he needs from you. Because he’s right, he can’t do this alone. It isn’t a one-way street. As much as Yeosang is willing to be there for you, he’s not the one who has to make the change— you are.

He holds you for a good, long minute before he’s the first to break. He tilts your chin up gently, giving you a soft, sympathetic look because he hopes you understand him. Just as he does with you. He places another kiss on your forehead before he quietly steps into his shoes and leaves. The next thing you know, you’ve fallen to the ground, unable to control the sobs that come next. Even though he reassured you he wasn’t leaving, the entire thing felt completely unsalvageable. Like you lost a part of you, like this couldn’t be fixed.

“I can explain.” Jeongin immediately says when he picks up the phone, but he’s only greeted by your sobs and uncontrollable breathing.

“Please come, Innie.”

“On my way.” He quickly ends the call and leaves the shop he had been lingering around in. He knew he needed to stay alert tonight, and he knew he needed to stay close in case of whatever happened. Although you had been crying, he really hopes something good at

least came out of this— whether that meant starting over or giving each other time to breathe. He hopes it wasn’t too bad, but he has full faith in Yeosang. He would have only done what was best.

When Jeongin gets to your place, the door is still unlocked and you haven’t moved from your position on the floor near your tiny couch. You’ve got your knees tucked to your chest, head resting down on your knees; small cries muffled from the way you’re positioned. He doesn’t say anything when he throws his arms around you and keeps you close, letting you cry onto him until you’ve released everything you needed to release.

“What happened?”

“He left. He said we needed time.”

“I think you two do. You need to be honest about what you want, Y/N.”

“I just want him.”

“Then, why did you leave in the first place? Why did you try so hard to keep your two lives separate?” Jeongin asks.

“Because, it felt safer that way.” You retort. “Going to town was my escape from this reality. This reality where everything hurt me— my parents, him. I didn’t wanna mesh the two because I need something, some place, that could be my escape. My peace.”

“You didn’t need to, though. Nothing would have changed because we care about you. We would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I get that you wanted to keep things on the low or keep it separate, but if you had asked for help, we would’ve been there. If you needed a push to get over everything, some reassurance, we all would have been there. We care enough to not let you get stuck in one place.” Jeongin sighs. “Maybe it’s time you stop running from everything, or thinking that everyone is out to hurt you. Because look— I’m here because I care. Your friends here care. Your friends over there worried about you.” He pauses. “Yeosang.”

“I know. I hurt him.” You cry and Jeongin holds you close, slowly rocking you back and forth. “I hurt him so badly. He won’t ever forgive me. He won’t come back, he won’t forgive me.” You go on and on and Jeongin has to shush you to get you to stop, to get you to force those thoughts away. Yeosang wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t. He knows where he lies and that’s with you, no matter how long it takes.

“He will.” Jeongin continues to hold you. “Stop running away, okay? This is enough.”

❊ 6 MONTHS LATER ..

“Longest journey ever.” Wooyoung says, stepping off of the train. “And look who decided to finally fucking show up? Our driver!”

“Not your fucking driver.” Yeosang rolls his eyes after parking the car by the curb and helping his friends.

“The weather’s perfect here.” Jongho snaps some photos while Yeosang throws their bags into the trunk of Jungkook’s car.

“Assuming Chae didn’t wanna come?”

“Yeah. And guess whose fault that is, heartbreaker?”

“Jongho, let’s go. I’m leaving his ass here so he can get back on the train—” Wooyoung yells as he hops in the passenger seat and laughs.

“I’m sorry! I’m kidding! She has some family stuff going on, but she said hi and told us she’d text you to relay her birthday message to Y/N.” Yeosang nods. He’s a bit sad knowing one of his bestfriends wouldn’t be here, but he understood. At least, tried to. Things never recovered well after the night of the work party. They tried to be as normal as possible, but there was always some sort of weird, awkward tension between the two that they were never able to move past. It’s sad seeing it go from how close they were to how distant they are now. But, Yeosang will always consider her as one of his good friends, and he’ll always be there for her should she need him for anything. That doesn’t change a thing for him. “Speaking of Y/N, where is she?”

“Probably already drunk at the restaurant because you two decided arriving fashionably late was the best way to go.”

“I had to get a haircut, you dick. I’m not coming here looking like a hot mess.” Wooyoung snaps.

“Ah, on her best birthday behavior, though. Atta girl.” Jongho chuckles. “Did Innie, Ryu, Bin and San get here already?” Wooyoung asks as if he’s known them for years. But, when your friends and Yeosang’s friends finally met, they clicked and got along easily. It didn’t take long for them to mesh together, and you were happy it turned out that way. There was some tension between you and Chaerin, but unintentionally. Yeosang had told you about the night of the party, and it didn’t bother you as much as it did Chaerin. You tried to talk to her and reassure her that things were okay and that you weren’t mad, yet you also tried to give her space knowing how she felt about Yeosang. It was difficult, and she came around less; but, you respected her and her space. You weren’t gonna force her if she didn’t feel comfortable being around you, Yeosang, or the both of you together.

“Yeah, last night. Been a full house.”

“Fun! Can’t wait.” Wooyoung smirks, causing Yeosang to give him a look and Jongho to smack him on the side of the head from behind the passenger seat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What! We’re here to have fun, aren’t we?”

“Fun like birthday party yoohoo let’s toss confetti and dance around kind of fun. Not tussle in the sheets and break headboards with the entire house listening kind of fun.” Jongho laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wooyoung smiles.

“Please don’t.”

“Can’t promise!” He laughs, making Yeosang let out a loud sigh as he drives off to the Jungkook’s uncle’s house that he so graciously offered for everyone to stay at while he was away traveling. Yeo is happy to be back in town with everyone he loves to celebrate you— his baby, his everything.

When Yeosang gets to the house, he gives Wooyoung and Jongho some time to get settled and change into better clothes for the beach party. Everyone is already gathered at the restaurant and on the beach, the DJ all set up with food ready to go. By the time he brings Jongho and Wooyoung over, people from town have already piled in; the loud music and talking echoing into the night sky. Jungkook is the first to greet them, followed by Keeho, Mingi, Mina, Ryujin, Bin and San. Innie is accompanying you on the karaoke machine, causing Yeosang to laugh seeing you two already tipsy and singing loudly together. Everything is loud, somewhat chaotic. It reminds Yeosang of the bonfire and movie night, and how he didn’t know how to act when you initially invited him.

He’s sure as hell glad he just went.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Gonna stop by the restaurant again tonight? There’s gonna be a bonfire and movie night event. We’ll be serving beer and all that good stuff.”

“Tonight?”

“The flyers are everywhere, silly.” You point at a flyer posted on the pole behind him. “Come, it’ll be fun.”

“Mm, I’ll think about it.” You cock your head to the side and slightly pout. “Sorry, it’s just not my thing. I..” Yeosang lets out a breath as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I probably sound really lame. But, lots of people. Noise. Gets kinda overwhelming.” He shrugs.

“I understand.” You give him a tiny toothless smile. “That’s okay! I promise it won’t be too crazy, and it’s pretty chill. But, totally up to you.”

“Thanks for extending the invite.” You nod. “Any more water to carry in?” You laugh.

“Nope! Thank you again. See you around?” Yeosang nods, watching as you step into the restaurant and start helping the middle-aged lady inside despite her playful efforts of shoo’ing you away. Yeosang shifts his gaze to his two feet, kicking at the rocks beneath them before walking down the path to the grocery store. He’s kinda cursing himself for sounding so fucking lame in front of you. Lots of people? Noise? What was he thinking? It wasn’t necessarily a lie, though— he actually doesn’t like to be in crowded places for long, doesn’t really like to party or do bonfires, socialize for long periods of time with people he doesn’t know well. Is the type of person to join a team dinner for the free food but will be gone in the next hour or so. Will join a work party because he feels obligated to show face for at least an hour before rushing home to get in bed. But, he’s cursing himself because he is on vacation, exploring new territory and breathing in new scenery. He should have some fun. He should’ve tried a little harder to sound a bit more interested.

“Jesus, Kang Yeosang.” He mutters to himself before shaking his head and heading off to the grocery store to grab some necessities for the studio.

❊ END

“My man!” You squeal loudly just as the 100% score comes up on the screen for you and Jeongin, jumping onto Yeosang and clinging onto him like a koala. He laughs and rubs your back, gently setting you back down on your feet. “Where’s—” You scream when you see Wooyoung and Jongho emerge from behind after greeting your friends. You run past Yeosang and throw your arms around Wooyoung and Jongho, your voice and Wooyoung’s voice loud enough to overpower the entire crowd gathered around the restaurant.

“Cheers, my guy.” Mingi and Jeongin hand him a shot filled to the brim, tapping their glasses against his before they take it to the neck.

“She’s drunk already.”

“Good, as she should be.” Yeosang squints and makes a face when the shot settles and travels down his chest.

“Who is with me on the karaoke machine?!” Changbin yells, pulling Mina from the side and forcing her to sing along with him.

“Let’s go dance!” You drag Yeosang to the sand where others are dancing, including Jungkook, Ryujin, San and Keeho. Mingi, Jeongin, Wooyoung and Jongho follow along after catching up with a few shots, a cocktail in hand to wash off the icky tequila aftertaste. You, Yeosang and your friends sing along to the songs playing, in between dancing with each other and keeping the party hyped. From time to time, Yeosang will pull you away to get his one-on-one time with you— always hugging you close, even when he’s just playfully dancing with you or letting you work your ass on him.

It’s a good night, a fun one; just exactly how you imagined your birthday to turn out.

After all the dancing and drinking, you silently sneak away to pick at the finger foods and fill your tummy so that you can be at a good balance tonight. You pop a few more pieces of the sushi bake Keeho made before sipping on water and stepping off to the side of the beach, observing the waves from where the rocks sit high and scatter among the sand. Although it wasn’t too congested at the party, it felt nice to step away and take a breather on your own.

“Come here often?” You hear Yeosang from behind you, his hands tucked behind his back as he shyly watches you turn to face him.

“I do, do you? Heard the breakfast is good here.” He chuckles before wrapping his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss to your head.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just watching the ocean like we used to. Can’t believe we’re back here with everyone.”

“Back where everything started.”

“Mmyeah. Exactly.” You giggle, leaning back into his chest.

“Happy birthday, my baby.” He says softly near your ear before smothering your cheek with tiny, repeated kisses. “I wanted to give you your present.” You feel his hands come around you, draping the silver necklace around your neck. It’s a small heart, with an infinity sign intertwined in the middle. You gasp when he finally secures it around your neck, earning a small chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Wait, this is the necklace I’ve been secretly eyeing! How’d you know?!” You pout, tears forming on your bottom lids.

“You don’t have to cry, princess.” Yeosang laughs. “I just do. You think I don’t catch you going back to visit the necklace at that shop every opportunity you get?” You laugh.

“I love it.” You smile at him. “You’re the best.” You tippytoe to kiss him on the lips.

“I know.” You roll your eyes and shake your head, admiring the necklace in silence a little more.

“Sangie?” You break the silence and fully turn to face him, hands resting on the nape of his neck.

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He taps the tip of your nose, causing you to let out a small giggle.

“I just wanna say thank you for everything that you do for me.” He doesn’t respond. Instead, he dips forward to lock you in a kiss; his hands coming to squeeze at your sides. This, too, hadn’t been easy nor perfect, but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Hey!” You smile through facetime, watching as Keeho, Mingi and Jungkook pile behind Mina in the shot. It had been about another month since your interviews wrapped up and you were offered the job at the aquarium [just as you had hoped]. A month since the encounter with Yeosang. A month since you finally left the past where it belonged in order to move forward.

“Okay, so she’s glowing!” Keeho laughs. “Whattup bae! How’s everything?”

“Good! I’ve been busy already starting my job at the aquarium.”

“Busy being our ‘lil aquarium worker.” Mingi laughs. “Congrats Y/N!”

“Knew your ass would get it!” Jungkook chimes in.

“Stop it.” You laugh, happy to see your friends all together at the restaurant. “Thank you, though.”

“We miss you.” Mina pouts. “I’m glad you called. It’s been different without you.”

“I’ll be back soon!” You reassure her. “I’ll visit, okay?”

“You swear?”

“Swear.”

“How’s everything been back home, though?” Jungkook asks.

“Mm, well. I finally talked to my parents after awhile. I think we’re okay for now. Definitely have things to work on because of how things have gone down between us in the past, but we’re okay.” You had just come from your parents house, and although you had expected the visit to be rough, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. There are still a lot of things you and your parents need to work on together, but today was a start. Your parents had told you how much they missed you and how much they worried about you, your mom being the first to apologize about everything that had happened in the past. You did tell them about starting a job at the aquarium, and they congratulated you. Your dad was still awkward about the entire thing, but you saw a side of him that you hadn’t seen in a long time today. He was softer. Happy to see you doing well and healthy. Genuinely congratulated you for taking those steps. A lot of his beliefs and values are still deeply rooted within him, but you think this might have served as a good learning lesson for him and something he could look back on. They were happy to have you back, happy to have you nearby. They were happy, and you were, too. It wasn’t gonna be an easy journey, and it wasn’t perfect, but you’ll take what you can work with and lift some weight off of your shoulders.

“What about Yeo?” You bite onto your botton lip.

“I’m gonna try and see him in a bit.”

“Gonna go get your man back?” You shyly nod, making everyone ‘aw’ in unison.

“Good. He’s good for you, and you deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

“I’ll let you guys know how it goes. I just wanted to call you and say hi.”

“You look good, Y/N. You look happy. Don’t lose that.” You giggle and nod.

“I’ll be back soon, yeah? I expect a whole ass party and a big group hug as soon as I step into that restaurant.” Keeho snorts.

“With what money?” You laugh.

“I’ll call you guys later.”

“Okay, be safe!” Jungkook says as they all wave. “Love youuuuuu!” They all say in their own sing-song ways before cutting the call. You send Jeongin a few texts to let him know how the whole thing with your parents went before letting him know you were on your way to try and see Yeosang. Although some time had passed, you were hoping he’d still be open to seeing you and talking to you about everything. The time surely helped, and you were willing to accept how things turned out— whether that meant starting over with Yeosang or being friends.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Yeosang licks his lips, letting out a small huff after pausing his quick workout. He’s relieved to hear from you, and to be frank, he missed hearing your voice. He had been waiting for this moment, and even though the wait was excruciating, everything about you was worth it. He missed you.

“Can I come over so we can talk?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll send you my address. It’s close to you.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in about 10 minutes or so?”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“It’s okay. I’m already out, I’ll take a taxi over.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. See you soon, pretty.” You smile to yourself hearing the term of endearment from Yeosang even after all this time. His love pure, genuine— not ever coming short.

Your nerves are slightly getting to the best of you as you sit and wait for the pastries you ordered to be packed up by the staff member assisting you. When she hands over the boxes, you thank her with a smile and immediately call a taxi to head over to Yeosang’s place. You twiddle your thumbs and constantly smooth down the material of your clothes, nervous about how everything will turn out. The both of you have shared small texts here and there just to check in, but it was clear the two of you were trying to keep a good distance until things felt more settled. He wanted to give you time to work on yourself and figure things out on your own, even though he was fighting everything within him to do so. The amount of times he wanted to just call you, come to your house, kiss you and make love to you— tell you to forget everything that’s happened and to start over right then and there.

He always wanted to do right by you, even if that meant letting you go for a bit.

He tidies up his place even though there isn’t much mess to clean. He’s a simple guy, has little things here and there. Your photos, your shell sitting on his nightstand. He lights some incense and sets it at the corner of his living room to liven up his space. He’s in a simple fit after running to the grocery store, still clad in his black pants and charcoal-colored tshirt.

Should he have made something for you?

“Shit.” He says, trying to rummage through his fridge. But, he realizes it’s too late when he hears the bell go off and he’s having to buzz you into the building. Sooner or later, soft knocks come to the door and Yeosang is shaking off his nerves, letting out a breath. “Hey.” It comes off a lot smoother, more collected, than he expected. Goodjob, Kang Yeosang. Pat on the fucking back.

“Hi.” You give him that cute smile of yours just as you walk in and step out of your shoes, curious eyes exploring his place. “Wow, your place is so.. you.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nice. Perfect.” You chuckle. “Don’t worry.” You show him the small box in your hand. “I bring some pastries.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”

“Are you sharing with me?” You nod and he smiles, setting it onto the coffee table as he plops down and sits next to you. His eyes quickly scan your outfit and how beautiful you look today. You don’t even have to try and it makes Yeosang’s heart soar. You're so fucking pretty.

God, he is so in love with you.

“What’d you do today?” He looks at you with the utmost attention and it gives you butterflies.

“Hm, I just ran a few errands and talked to my parents. Talked to everyone back in town.” His eyes widen.

“You talked to your parents? How’d that go?”

“Better than I expected. It’s not perfect, things still feel kinda awkward but it was good. We’re okay and I think we’ll be able to work through things over time. They congratulated me when I told them about the aquarium.”

“That’s good! I’m happy to hear that. You deserve it. Hope Keeho and them are doing well, too.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him for a little longer before you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “Yeah, they are. What did you do today?”

“Grab groceries.” He scratches at his temple. “I—uh, I’m sorry I didn’t prepare anything beforehand. I didn’t think about it until it was too late.”

“It’s okay.” You giggle.

“So, have you been okay otherwise?” You shrug.

“I think? I’m doing better than before.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“I’ve seen better days.” You slightly pout.

“Sangie.” His heart does flips when you say his nickname that way, when you look at him the way you do. You scoot closer to him on the couch and he welcomes it, resting his arm against the back edge so you can slot yourself right in the opening. “Sangie, I’m so, so sorry.” You cup his cheeks and caress the surface. “I just got scared, and I’m so sorry for leaving.” You watch as he leans into your touch a little more. “I know I should’ve known better and I shouldn’t have ran in the first place, but it was the only safe thing I knew. I was so used to doing it that I didn’t even think about how it’d affect you or anybody else in the long run. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He lets out a breath, his hand coming up to hold your wrist.

“You know I’m here with you, not against you, right? I would never do anything to hurt you. I don’t care about what happened in the past, I don’t care what people have said about you. All that matters to me is that you’re taken care of and happy. That’s all I wanna do, and that’s all I wanna do with you.” He cups your cheeks and lifts your head slightly so that he can look at you, fully look at you, and take you in. “You’re everything to me and nothing about that will change, Y/N. No matter what.”

“I know, I know that.” You repeat. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I wanna do this with you, and I don’t want anything else. Only you.”

“We can take our time with this.” He places a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand. “We can take it slow.”

“Okay.” Your voice falls to a whisper.

“Me and you, yeah?” He asks for some kind of reassurance. You nod, crawling onto his lap to sit comfortably on him.

“Just me and you.” He gives you a small smile before gripping your chin gently and bringing you down for a kiss. It starts off strong, as if all the desire he had been holding in could finally be released.

“Missed you.” He whispers in between kisses, hands resting on your hips while his tongue slowly prods your mouth. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Missed you too, love.” The kiss gets sloppier and sloppier; teeth clicking in a fit of need, tongues fighting over dominance.

“Need to move this to the room. Now.” Yeosang hisses. He swoops you into his arms in one swift motion, causing you to squeal as you hold him tightly around the neck. He tugs off your shirt and tosses it across the living room while making his way to the bedroom. You follow the same urgency, tugging on Yeosang’s shirt just as he places you down on the edge of the bed. He sheds it off and lets it fall to the floor, his hands now working on your pants to get you completely bare for him. He places kisses on every inch of your body that he possibly can— moving from your throat, down to the base of your neck, your collarbone. Chest. He leaves feathery kisses down your valley of breasts, hand coming up to massage your tit before working his lips, his tongue, around your perked nipples. You let out an audible gasp, back arching off of the bed as he finally pulls your pants down and lets them join his shirt on the floor. He tugs your panties down and doesn’t waste a moment to leave a trail of kisses along your inner thighs.

“Wanna take care of you.” He says deeply just as he lowers himself in between your thighs and kisses your folds, your aching nub. His tongue slowly laps in between your folds, teasing your entrance before kissing his way back up to your clit and focusing his efforts on getting you off. You let out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his tongue nudge at your clit a couple of times, spreading your slick and his saliva all over your pussy.

He kisses you, touches you, like he’s been starved for years.

Your grip on his head tightens, hips grinding against his mouth to relieve the friction you are so desperately chasing, needing.

“Oh, fuck— Yeosang—” You cry, overwhelmed by the sudden orgasm that comes crashing down on you. Your thighs close in on him as he continues to suck on your clit, keeping himself there until he feels your body settle in his grip; until he feels your hands loosen around his head. He bites onto his bottom lip as he gets himself out of his own pants, stroking himself while his eyes glaze over your entire body.

“So perfect for me.”

“Need you, Sangie.” You mewl, his dick feeling painfully hard in his own hand. He slots himself in between your legs, free hand making sure to keep your legs cocked open for him. He takes his cock and taps it onto your sensitive heat a few times, taking the tip in between your folds and nudging it against your clit. He lets out a loud groan when he feels how wet you are against him, no longer able to contain himself. “Please, babe.” You beg, feeling him run his dick down your slick once more before breaching your entrance; taking his time to fill you up until he bottoms out.

Everything feels like it’s happening at the speed of light, unable to relish in every second. But, you need Yeosang. You need him just as badly as he needs you.

You feel tingles run down your spine as Yeosang finds a steady pace, hands placed on your inner thighs so he can watch his cock slip in and out of you with ease. His moans are mixed with yours, bouncing off the walls of his room along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Him pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow, like he needs to make up for lost time and show you just how desperate he is to have you.

“Ugh, fuck.” He lets out just as he lowers his body and hovers over you; his pace fast, quick. “Does it feel good, baby?” He’s right by your ear, teeth gently nibbling at your ear lobe.

“Yes—s-so good.” You can barely respond. Your hands thread into the ends of his hair as he continues to position himself right at the crook of your neck, keeping him close. “Keep going, just like that.”

“My special girl.” He groans, nibbling at the surface of your neck. “Gonna give you everything.” He pants while pounding into you. “Shit— Y/N, baby—” He moans. “Where do you want me? Mm’gonna cum.”

“Inside. Please, please, please.” You continue to beg, working your own hips against him to relieve the ache you feel, craving every bit of him. The entire moment is so intense; powered with so much passion and need that you feel yourself tipping over the edge, ready to snap all over again.

“I love you so much.” He says against your lips before his brows knit together, face contorting in pleasure when he releases his seed inside of you. You reach your second high at the same time, back arching against Yeosang while he’s trying to bring himself back down from cloud nine. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” He breathes, hearing you whine in his hold— the aftershocks of your orgasm still surging through your veins.

“I love you.” You respond. It takes a few minutes before you’re able to open your eyes and regulate your breathing, Yeosang cooing you and whispering sweet praises against your skin before kissing your cheek. Lips. Then, he plops onto the mattress next to you, bringing you onto his chest to hold you close. Keep you there right where you belong. With him.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You tease with a giggle, hugging him tightly as you shut your eyes momentarily and take in all of Yeosang beneath you— his soft skin, his touch. His scent. “Sangie.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too. You have no idea.” He places a kiss on the top of your head, finger gently tracing shapes on your back to relax you.

❊ END

“Aye, birthday girl! We’ve got the cake out!” Keeho shouts from the restaurant. “Bring that ass over so we can sing happy birthday!”

“Anything for you, hm?” He playfully taps your nose before grabbing your hand and kissing the surface. “Come, let’s go see your cake.” Yeosang smiles down at you and gives you another kiss to the forehead before leading you to the cake table. He had worked with a bakery to get your favorite cake— a simple ½ sheet vanilla cake with strawberry coulis, fresh strawberries and vanilla meringue icing. It was a simple but beautiful cake, with baby pink hues and dried flowers decorating the surface. Jungkook sticks two skinny candles down the middle, apologizing with a giggle for the shortage and for assuming he had more sitting in the restaurant. The crowd cheers and loudly sings happy birthday together before it falls silent when it’s your turn to make a wish. Yeosang admires you from the side, looking at you with pure adoration when your doe-eyes light up and you blow the candles out. Mingi helps snap pictures and polaroids, shaking them in between before laying them near your cake for you to see. Just as you turn to Yeosang for a kiss, he instantly swipes some of the icing down your cheek and laughs— running away from your wrath before surrendering due to your cute [but deadly] pouts and whines.

“I’m sorry, love. I had to.” He laughs, wiping at your cheek with a wet wipe. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am lucky.” He winks, causing you to snort. He puckers his lips for a kiss before helping Jungkook cut the cake and pass the slices along to everyone in attendance. Mingi calls you over to show you the rest of the pictures he took, proud of the work he’s done capturing the best moments from tonight.

“Happy looks good on her. The both of you, actually.” Jeongin says as he steps next to Yeosang, watching as you and Mingi continue to look at the pictures and laugh loudly together. “I’m really happy you two worked it out and never gave up on each other.”

“I am, too. And I don’t ever plan on changing that.” Yeosang continues to admire you.

“Yeah? This is it?” Jeongin smiles.

“She is.”

"Thank you for taking care of her." Yeosang returns the smile before diverting his attention to you as soon he hears you calling him over.

"Baby! Come look at these pictures!" You wave them up in the air happily. Now, you can add a few more polaroids to your collection— ones that have all your loved ones in one place. Ones of you and Yeosang. He can continue to add a few more sea shells to his night stand, ones picked by yours truly. And as far as he knows, he can continue to watch the waves crash against the shore with you. He can continue to grab the stars and place them in your hold just so you know what it feels like.

He can continue to shower you with love, give you all the flowers. This time, they won’t reach the floor. Because he has you, will always have you;

You— the purest, most raw, genuine definition of love, a flower he’ll continue to water and grow.

Blossom.

❊ taglist: @frzzenfrxg @syubseokie @asjkdk @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr

#yeosang fanfic #yeosang series #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang series #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez scenarios #kpop imagines #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #kang yeosang smut #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang angst #kang yeosang x y/n #hwaslayer: flowers on the floor

161 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

Text

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly, whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle.

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #mcu bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

345 notes · View notes

alonelystargazer · 7 months ago

Text

ItaFushi Fic Rec List

I've compiled a list of my current favorite ItaFushi fics, both completed and in progress!

Completed Works

Perfect Shots [Rated T, 25k words, 7 chapters, AU]

Megumi works as a barista and Yuji is a photagrapher. It's so sweet.

A Cat in Hell's Chance [Rated T, 21k words, 2 chapters, AU]

Adult ItaFushi. Yuji has a cat named Sukuna and takes him to the vet and it happens to be Megumi, his high school crush. Gojo plays wingman. Antics ensue.

Twitch Streamer Yuuji and Youtuber Megumi [Rated T, 43k words, 8 chapters, AU]

Yuji is a twitch streamer who gushes about his secret crush on this book review youtuber named Megumi to his huge audience and everyone is trying to figure out who it is and hopefully get them to meet. Megumi doesn't know anything about this, but his friend Nobara gets him to watch Yuji's streams and gets a crush on him, not knowing he's the object of Yuji's affection.

I want to renew you again and again [Rated T, 14.8k words, 5 chapters]

Yuji and Megumi help each other tend to their wounds, and their hair, while navigating their feelings in the aftermath of the Shibuya Incident.

The Unbearable Weight of Being Itadori Yuji [Rated T, 6k words]

In the aftermath of the Shibuya Incident, Yuji distances himself from Megumi, but Megumi isn't having it, and they both share in the guilt and suffering.

heart on my sleeve [Rated G, 2k words]

Megumi helps Yuji with wound care.

i will always choose you [Rated M, 5.6k words, AU]

Yuji and Megumi have a movie date night, ft. Choso

Your Heartbeat is My Comfort [Rated T, 1.2k words]

Megumi wants to protect Yuji from the cruel world that brought him so much pain and grief. Listening to his heartbeat grounds him.

traditions [Rated T, 6.8k words]

Megumi is completely smitten with Yuji and every day it's getting harder for him to not combust. Every Saturday, he and Yuji have movie night, and his feelings grow even more.

Sweet Tooth [Rated T, 21.6k words, 5 chapters, AU]

While walking his dogs, Megumi literally runs into a handsome stranger named Yuji and gets a crush on him.

that's the spirit! [Rated G, 9.2k words, 2 chapters]

Megumi gets an unlikely wingman, the ghost of his father.

save your love (for someone like me) [Rated T, 11k words, AU]

College AU where Megumi gets a crush on his best friend Yuji, but it seems like Yuji is interested in another guy, and he gets jealous.

living and dying without regrets [Rated T, 18.3k words, canon divergence]

Nobara asks Yuji for advice on how to ask out Maki, thinking that he and Megumi have been dating. Fake dating ensues.

question marks [Rated T, 3.5k words]

Megumi gets a letter with a love confession on it from Yuji by mistake.

fragile [Rated T, 5.8k words]

Megumi gets hit with a curse that makes him respond with only the truth when asked. It's hard to keep from spilling his secret crush.

miss you in the june gloom [Rated T, 1.6k words]

Megumi has to watch Yuji die and doesn't know how to deal with the unrequited feelings.

To Y, Happy V-Day, Love M [Rated T, 4.9k words, AU]

Yuji wants to give Megumi a romantic Valentine's Day, but Megumi isn't exactly the romantic type. It doesn't help that Megumi has to work that day.

i never would have known from the look on your face [Rated T, 5.6k words]

Yuji keeps asking Megumi out as a joke, until it doesn't become a joke anymore.

i like you (say it back) [Rated T, 4.7k words]

Megumi doesn't realize his shikigami have been activated, but notices that they only appear when Yuji is around.

In Progress Works

and i've been trying not to feel it [Rated T, 56.4k words, 9 chapters, AU]

Megumi goes to a college party where he meets Yuji, who he immediately finds attractive but is extremely annoyed by it. He must content with his feelings the closer he becomes to Yuji.

dancing with a stranger [Rated T, 10.8k words, 5 chapters]

Megumi is a ballet dancer who has to take a hip-hop dance class to complete his credits. He struggles with the new style of dance, and his growing feelings for his tutor Yuji.

#bre's posts #fic rec #itafushi #fushiita #itadori x fushiguro #yuuji x megumi #I think I'll make another list in a few months

142 notes · View notes

mercurial-vroom · 22 days ago

Text

Listless Playthings of Enormous Forces

(🧟 A Galex zombie apocalypse fic, written for the spookily fabulous @motorsport-halloween fest 🎃)

Listless Playthings of Enormous Forces (Part 1/2)

Pairing: George Russell/Alex Albon

Current Word Count: 15k (completed fic will come out to ~25k)

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content; gore/violence; alcohol; internalized homophobia

Summary:

“I’ve waited six years for that to happen again,” Alex says, tucking himself closer into George’s side. “Didn’t realize all it would take was the end of the fucking world.” *** When you’re a professional racing driver, death is always a possibility. At the same time as you’re learning what it feels like when the brake balance of the car is off or how to effectively manage your tires in cold conditions, you also learn the more unspoken lesson of how to look death in the eye week after week and not fear it – or at least, how to press that fear down deep enough to be undetectable, unable to deter your confidence as you round the outside of a sharp corner at breakneck speed. That mindset, however, never accounted for the possibility of the dead coming to life again with a fierce and seemingly indefatigable vengeance against the living.

#formula 1 #f1 #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic #my fic #alex albon #george russell #galex #george/alex #gr63 #aa23 #halloween fest #zombies #horror

41 notes · View notes

melis-hellis · 4 months ago

Note

Hi I’m looking for fic recommendations between Charlie and pim! Sorry I don’t know what else to do but ask because I want to find good ones

here are some charpim fics i LOVE:

creature of habit by gigiriley (3 chapters, 25k words)

dimples by nani (1 chapter, 16k words)

that's just straight up beautiful, by the way by fleshy (2 chapters, currently unfinished, 19k words)

bittersuite by revolver56 (1 chapter, 13k words)

there's also the fics "threw you the obvious" by jrjo and "death and all his friends" by amoripomoea that i haven't sat down to read yet, but i've heard were really good.

#smiling friends #fic recommendation #charpim

51 notes · View notes

you-remind-me-of-the-babe · 6 months ago

Text

It’s high time I’ve done another rec post, so here I am, coming in hot with six WIPs you should be reading right now.

Before I get into the fics themselves, a word about reading WIPs. Look, I know it’s tempting to wait until a fic is complete. Not to mention the fact that there is an absolutely staggering amount of amazing fics out there. I’m a slow reader myself, and my TBR list, even after reading fics for nearly three years, is so damn long. I could easily sit back and only read older completed fics and probably never finish them all.

But. I love a good WIP fic almost like nothing else. Yes, binging a completed fic in one sitting can leave you flying high. But following a fic as it’s being written, interacting with said fic and cheering that writer on, gives me so much gratification. Getting that email notification for a new chapter, and feeling so eager to read the new update, is an absolute joy. I highly recommend.

Lastly, this is not an exhaustive list of current Carry On WIPs, but merely a small sampling. And if anyone has any good WIP recs for me, I’d love to hear them!

Only Creatures, WIP, currently 52k, rated E by @emeryhall

In this canon divergent story, Simon breaks up with Baz at the end of WS, leading Baz to become a recluse and a poet, growing a beard and hiding out in Scotland. When he finds out Simon is a camboy for a website called Only Creatures, they tentatively start wanking chatting again. Come for Baz’s Unabomber style, stay for the second chances and explorations of intimacy.

Everything Emery writes is amazing, and this fic is no exception. It’s a little absurd, incredibly witty and heartfelt, with a cast of OCs that quietly shine. This story has cracked my heart open and is slowly putting it back together. You won’t regret reading this one.

Hiding Out in the Open, WIP, currently 48k, rated M by @cutestkilla

Another canon divergence story, this time where Simon and Baz never got together after their truce in 8th year. After the SSR debacle, they meet again and this time start connecting over a shared interest in a psychology podcast.

This fic does an excellent job of having these boys dig into their trauma and issues via the podcast topics, letting them heal and connect, while also letting the reader marvel at the heavy Snowbaz vibes of every podcast episode. It’s so smart, I’m telling you.

I Knew A Boy, I Knew A Man, WIP, currently 83k, rated T by @shrekgogurt

This football AU has Baz and Simon ending up on the same premiere league team, years after playing together at school. The author gives us flashbacks in every chapter of their frought relationship as teens, before progressing the story in the present.

I can’t believe I haven’t done an official rec post for this fic yet. Mary writes the sports bits of this story so vividly, and the flashback bookends of each chapter so perfectly tie into the current narrative, you’ll marvel at the complex way it moves the story forward. Seriously, one of my all time faves.

Basil Pitch’s Diary, WIP, currently 32k, rated T by @bookish-bogwitch

Watford-era Baz starts a diary on January 1st, determined to record his progress on various resolutions, namely, getting over Simon Snow.

This fic has the incredible humor of Bridget Jones’s Diary and will introduce you to your favorite version of acerbic, self-depricating teenage Baz. He will own your soul. There is no other outcome of reading this fic.

The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch, WIP, currently 25k, rated M by @monbons

This story watches a three hundred year old Baz, cursed after desperately trying to find a way to be loved on his own terms, wandering aimlessly in present times until he finds a certain blue eyed barista who has an unusual reaction to meeting him.

This AU is based on The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, but you don’t have to have read the book to become immersed in this achingly sad but thoroughly sweet story of hope and second chances.

Episode 6: Apres la Pluie, le Beau Temps, WIP, currently 10k, rated M by @artsyunderstudy

Another installment in the Star Trek series for the lovely @raenestee, this series is the epitome of following a good WIP story. Several authors have contributed to this sci-fi beast, and the progression of the story through several different writers’ hands is an absolute delight to watch. (And, as one of the authors, to participate in.)

If you aren’t yet reading it, this is a great time to join. We’re right in the middle of the story, leaving the four couples in Ashton’s very capable hands as she expertly guides them through various communication breakdowns. If you know nothing of Star Trek, don’t let that stop you from joining a thoroughly entertaining epic of a story.

#fic rec #six rec Sunday #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch

35 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 1 year ago

Text

Petrichor [4]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 20,748

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut (wrap it before ya tap it!), a little bit of angst, mentions of scars, blood, bruises, reader gets a suit but the fit of it isn’t described just the colors (yes, it’s like Steph’s suit because it’s my favorite of the bats)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: So, I combined chapters 4 and 5 and this was over 25k words. Google Docs was lagging so hard I couldn’t finish editing on mobile. It was an ordeal lmao I’m so sorry. I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Over the next week, you and Jason continue your new dynamic. It’s fun for the both of you and it feels safe. Neither of you feel too much pressure with each other and you’re both really happy. It always starts with your game and then one of you makes the move. That’s usually who wins and it’s fun.

Now, you’re sitting in the kitchen on one of the laptops reading through a Reddit thread about the Titans. Steam is practically coming out of you ears as Jason walks in.

“You good?” Jason chuckles, seeing you look like you want to chuck the laptop out a window.

“Look at this!” You yell, pointing at the laptop screen that shows a Reddit that’s discussing the vigilante names of the Titans.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” Jason chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your chair and the other hand on the counter as he leans in.

“Acid Fingers!” You fume, pointing dramatically at the screen.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That you?” He glances at you and he knows this is going to be fun.

“I guess!” You yell, your hands flying above your head.

Jason shakes his head, looking through more of the names and they just keep more ridiculous. He’s taking a mental note of every name to call you the next time you make fun of him being Robin.

“Melty Hands?” Jason continues to chuckle, this is ridiculous.

“Glow girl!” You get more dramatic. “Who the fuck is Freddy Freeman and how can I kill him?!”

Jason looks at you and you’re so mad but he swears you’re endearing. “I think it’s great.” Jason lets his laugh subside.

You snap your neck at him, eyes wide, steam nearly coming out of your ears. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK IT’S GREAT?!?!?! YOU GOT BEASTBOY, SUPERBOY, NIGHTWING, STARFIRE, AND FUCKING ACID FINGERS?!?!?!?!!? WHAT THE FUCK.”

He thinks it’s funny how annoyed you are by it. It’s not even a big deal given you’re not actually a Titan at this current point in time and he has a vivid memory of you saying you don’t even like vigilante names from last week. And the only thing he wants to do is kiss the scowl off your face.

“Acid Fingers is a great one.” Jason tilts his head back, unable to control his laughing.

“I’m gonna hunt this little shit down. Acid Fingers.” You let out a scoff.

“I like it.” Jason says through a laugh. “I’m calling you that, now.”

“Don't you fucking dare, Jason Todd!”

Jason’s voice drops, his face coming closer to yours as he goes to taunt you. “What are you gonna do about it, Acid Fingers?”

You look back at him and the annoyance of the whole thing almost melts away because he looks at you like that, eyes darting to your lips and soft and nothing else even matters. But then he would win.

“You’re named after a fucking bird. And you don’t even look like a robin! You look more like a parrot.”

Jason’s brows furrow but he keeps his stance close to you. “A parrot?” Jason chortles.

“Red, green, black, yellow. Parrot. Robins are not that colorful.” You snark and Jason can see you trying desperately not to let a smirk come to your lips.

“Still better than, acid fingers. Could have called you Sulfar, Nitric, Bombardier, Scorpian!” Jason says enthusiastically. “Cobra could work, I guess, but that doesn’t fit, I don’t think.” He nods his head just once, his brows are just slightly knitted together.

You blink at him. “I’m actually gonna kill you.” Your words are softer this time, holding no venom with the hollow threat.

“You can try, Acid Fingers.”

“Jason Todd, so fucking help me.” You let out a groan and you knows he will never let this go.

“What’re you gonna do about it, babe?”

“You’re such a brat.” You state softly.

Jason’s laugh bellows through the kitchen as he leans up with the laugh. Bruce peaks in to see what the yelling is about but he just sees Jason laughing hysterically, happier than Bruce has ever seen him before. You look like you’re about to actually commit mass murder but Bruce catches the hint of smile on your face as you watch Jason laugh. Bruce smiles to himself before walking off and leaving the two of you to yourselves.

“I’m gonna tell this little shit--” You start, turning back to the laptop.

“Okay,” Jason cuts you off, yanking your laptop away from you and closing it. “He’s probably like twelve.” Jason laughs. “And you don’t even like the name thing so, Acid Fingers, get a grip.”

“It’s so stupid.” You whine before it turns into a laugh. “It’s so dumb!”

“Hey, I’m a bird and Dick still fucking chose Nightwing, kept the bird thing going. All of the bat stuff is called bat-something.” Jason chortles and he’s got a devious smirk.

“It’s all so dumb.” You get tears from laughing.

“I think Dick actually named most of the stuff. He named the batcomputer.” Jason explains.

“OH, but I call you guys Batsons and I don’t even get a laugh.” You roll your eyes.

“You called us Batsons?”

“Yeah! Are you not the sons of Batman?”

“I guess.” Jason mocks you.

“Shut the fuck up, Jaybird.” You groan, tilting your head back.

Jason can’t stop the laugh that escapes his mouth with the nickname. “Better than shithead, brat, and Acid Fingers.” Jason gives you a wild grin and all you can do is groan. “Come on, get up.” Jason offers you his free hand while you reach for the laptop. “No, enough internet for you today, fucking nerd. I want you to meet someone today.”

“You have friends?” You quip and Jason’s jaw drops as he narrows his eyes at you. “And don’t say me or Gar.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jason laughs. “I have more friends than you do!” You go to open your mouth but Jason goes first. “Don’t say me or Gar.”

“Don’t say me or Gar.” You mutter under your breath, mocking him. “Okay, Krypto.”

“Krypto is a dog, he doesn’t fucking count!” Jason’s eyes widen and that’s something he really likes about you. Considering Krypto as a friend.

“I’m telling him you said that. You’re gonna hurt his feelings, you’re a monster!” You yell dramatically, placing your hand over your heart.

“You're so dramatic!” Jason doesn’t remember a time he laughed this much with anyone.

“You wear a cape and put black eye shadow around your entire eye socket.” You deadpan, blinking at him.

“You were a cape and put black eye shadow around your entire eye socket.” Jason makes a face, mocking you as he mutters under his breath. You let out a laugh and you adore him. “Come on, Acid Fingers.”

“See, dramatic.” You point a finger at him, a cocky smile on your lips.

There are bubbles exploding through his veins as you look at him with big eyes and that smile that could set the world on fire. He doesn’t know what that feeling is but he wants to chase it as fast and as long as he can.

“Come on, seriously. I think you’ll like her.”

“Her?” You raise a brow at him and you hate the way you find your stomach twist at the thought. You’re his friend, too and look where you are right now.

“Jealous?” Jason quips and maybe he's hoping you will be.

You almost say yes but if you’re both just messing around, that’s not very fair. But, he’s taunting you again and he always does that. You spend nearly all your time together so you take another route.

“Should I be?” You quip with confidence and you’re so sure that he’s yours even if your stomach fills with the warmth of green at the mention of a friend that’s a girl.

Jason shrugs because it’s the easiest answer in the world. “Nope.”

“Fine.” You take his hand in yours, getting to your feet. “Where we going?”

“For coffee in the city. Trust me, I think you’ll like her and you need more friends.”

“Aw, but this is so fun.” You scrunch your nose. “I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Have you met me?” Jason gestures to himself with the arm holding the laptop. “She won’t care. If she can tolerate my shit, she can tolerate yours.” Jason rests the laptop on the counter, you going to grab it but Jason yanks you back, pulling you against him. “Seriously?”

“No.” You shake your head, getting a grin before sliding your free hand up to his neck. “Knew you’d do that.” You pull him into you and kiss him deeply. You can feel Jason relax under your touch as you nip at his bottom, Jason groaning against you. When you pull away, his smile is soft and you’ve got that grin that makes Jason’s head spin. “See, I can plan ahead.”

“Alright.” Jason’s voice is breathless as he recovers. “Fuck off.”

“Taking the bike?”

“Always.” Jason chuckles. “Come on.” Jason pulls you along with him, his hand tangled with yours. “We’ll be back.” Jason peaks into the living room, giving Bruce a nod.

“Bye, Bruce!” You smile softly at him.

“Be careful,” Bruce states as the two of you head off.

"Okay, trust me, I think you'll like her." Jason beams, hands in the pockets of his pants as you walk the short distance to the door of a local coffee shop.

He's been friends with Molly for almost two years. Similar to you, Molly doesn't really take his shit but she lets him do his thing, she lets him be. She doesn't know everything but she's always been a good friend to him. Molly was the first person Jason even really considered a close friend. And introducing you to Molly, sure, is so you can have another friend because he believes wholeheartedly you'll get along. But, it's also another introduction to things that are his. Into his world. He doesn't have many friends, but he has Molly.

"Dunno, last girl I tried to be friends with, I punched her in the face." You chortle, watching as Jason grabs the handle of the door.

"Aren't you two good now?" He shakes his head in confusion,

"Yeah," You laugh and you can feel the nerves trickling into your throat. Meeting new people isn't always the most comfortable thing in the world. "I'm just saying though, that happened."

"Well, don't punch this one in the face, alright? She's cool, I swear." Jason assures you. "She also doesn't know about the whole Robin and Batman and Titans shit so don't say shit about that." Jason warns quietly, whispering in your ear before he opens the door.

"Yeah, figured that." You nod softly.

Jason holds the door open for you as you walk inside and he follows right behind you. You look around the coffee shop as Jason joins you at your side and then your eyes land on someone familiar sitting at a table alone near the windows. Your eyes widen as your stomach drops because it's Gotham sure but Gotham is a big enough city. Hell, you and Jason did have some overlap being homeless and you never crossed paths. But, this still seems so bizarre and you find it hard to believe.

The girl looks up from her phone, spotting Jason first and offers him a wide smile. But, then her eyes land on you beside him and her eyes go wide, the smile falling. Jason glances between the two of you, growing more confused by the second.

"Molly?" You nearly yell as you ignore Jason beside you.

“Y/n?” Molly gets up and starts the walk over to the both of you.

You meet Molly in the middle, your steps slow and you can't believe it's Molly. Your heart thunders in your ears as your eyes start to water. Molly pulls you into a hug as you meet in the middle and it's a piece home back in place for you. A part of you thought, maybe, you’d never see her again. Maybe you'd make the effort to never be seen again because that would easier than explaining everything but Molly hugs you and that would have been a bad decision.

"You know each other?" Jason questions as the two of you pull away.

"You know Jason?!" You and Molly question at the same time, looking to the boy who looks more confused than he has ever looked in his life.

"You first." You say.

"One of the shelters. My mom died not long after you took off. How about you?" Molly asks as she glances between the two of you, silently putting a few pieces together.

"Uhhh..." You look to Jason, realizing that explaining your story to someone you actually know makes the whole lying thing a little more difficult. Molly knows your tells. "It's a long story but San Francisco. He got Bruce to let me stay with them."

"Well, okay." Molly laughs, her eyes landing on you. "I've missed you." Molly's eyes grow teary.

You nod, the feeling in your chest growing heavy. "Me too. I'm....I'm so sorry about your mom. I-I should--"

"No, no, it's okay. You were processing yourself, it's okay. I tried to find you."

The guilt comes back, gnawing at your bones because you actively chose to be alone. It was your decision and you never had to leave Molly. Maybe had you just stuck it out, maybe you could have stayed. Her mom was like a second mom and maybe you and Molly could have worked something out. Then Molly wouldn't have been alone. You should have known. Social media is a thing.

"And you found Jason instead." You glance to him. "I am so sorry." You laugh.

"Fuck you." Jason groans but it turns into more of a laugh. "So, this is the friend you talked about in San Francisco?" Jason asks.

"Yeah." You nod.

"And she’s the friend that ran away?" Jason pieces everything together and he doesn't know how he didn't figure that out.

"Are you surprised?" Molly quips, looking back at you.

Jason lets out a laugh but his attention is only on you. "No, she does run."

"So do you." Your eyes widen as you snap your attention to Jason.

"Well, I got us a table." Molly gestures back to her spot.

The three of you make your way to Molly's table. Jason and you sit side by side while Molly sits across from you. It does not go unnoticed the way Jason pulled out your chair and the way you watched him until he sat down, almost subconsciously.

Molly raises a brow at the two of you. "Are you two...like?"

Both of you look like deer in headlights with the question. That question was a lot easier to answer a week ago but today it feels a little more complicated. Despite your agreement to keep this whole friends with benefits thing between the two of you, you both do not want to say no. But, you aren't together and you are friends so saying anything other than no, would be a lie.

"No." Jason lets out a breath, and he hates the bitter taste of the word. "She's just using me for a roof." Jason finds himself able to quip and he intentionally keeps his attention on Molly.

It stings, just a little but not because it's not true. But because you want to explain what you are to Molly. You want to brag about him.

"You literally offered. I was gonna just live on the streets." You quip back, holding your head high.

"Well, I wasn't gonna let you." Jason scoffs.

"No, we're friends. I just like to fuck with him." You look back to Molly and Molly swears there's something there. But, she brushes it off because she hasn't seen you in a long time and maybe that's all it is.

"Oh, so that hasn't changed." Molly laughs softly.

Molly and you get talking, catching up. You mostly ask about Molly to avoid talking about yourself. But, Molly has always been the mom friend. The caretaker of the two of you. You’ve never been one to want to talk about yourself, but you’re quieter than normal. You were living in San Francisco. There's a story there and you seem happy yet you aren't saying much. Maybe you’ve changed more than Molly thinks you have but it seems weird.

"Okay, that's enough about me. Tell me about you." Molly takes a sip of her coffee and you nearly stiffen in your seat. "What happened?"

Your voice sticks in the back of your throat and Jason actively sees your eyes go distant. Talking about the stuff with him is easy, he didn't know you before. There's no worry of disappointing him. None of this was your fault, but a part of you thinks telling Molly, will make Molly disappointed. Gar reminded you of Molly. Too kind for the world. Gives that look when something bad happens that you hate so much. And you tug down the sleeves of your hoodie. Jason rests a hand on your knee under the table, you looking back at him as if it snaps you out of your haunting thoughts. He offers you a grin and then a subtle shrug.

"Uh..." You shake your head. "I was, uh, I-I was living with this guy, foster care, and he moved us to San Francisco." You nod your head, trying to find a way to lie. "Uh, he was kind of down and out. He had something wrong with him." You roll your eyes, knowing that's an easy way to put it and then you come up with the lie. "He wasn't in any place to, uh, to care for anyone. I guess, so he called this guy he knew which was Dick and that's how I ended up meeting Jason. Dick already took him in so, ya know, that's kind of it, I guess."

Molly nods her head and she always knows when you’re lying. You have a bad poker face. And Jason can see Molly wanting to ask more questions, so he interjects, squeezing your knee before placing his hand on the table.

"Yeah, Dick wasn't so bad. If foster parents or shit got overwhelmed or financial shit came up, he'd offer a place. Wasn't all bad." Jason shakes his head and you swear he's the best person you’ve ever met. He's also a better liar.

Molly's brows furrow and she can't tell when Jason lies. He's better at it. "So, Bruce sent you to live with him and then you happened to get sent there, too?"

"Yeah, Dick was adopted by Bruce." Jason states. "So, kind of fit. Dick picked her up like a month later."

"Yeah, he just brought me back and Jason has been up my ass ever since." You send him a smirk before offering him a thankful nod and a nudge with your knee.

"He get you into trouble, too?" Molly asks, a teasing smile coming to her face.

"I didn't get you into that much trouble." Jason defends with a laugh.

"How many times were we chased by the cops?" Molly quips.

"Oh, there's a story there, share." You beam.

"He was teaching me how to get the hubcaps off cars." Molly's eyes widen slightly as if to be taunting Jason.

"Fucking hubcaps." You grit your teeth as you let out a sigh.

Jason lets out a booming laugh. "And she didn't get fucking caught, did you, Molly?"

"You got caught robbing cars?" Molly asks.

"Look, I tripped and the pavement was wet, okay? It's the city's fault!" You laugh.

"The city's fault," Molly repeats with the shake of her head.

"And hey, she got me into trouble." Jason lets out a huff and you glare at him. "You told me to turn Dick blue! Or that time we were eavesdropping but I was doing it to make fun of you and Rachel was giving me a death glare for fucking two days when she caught us. That time you got me to try and sneak out after Dick enforced a curfew just so we could go to a midnight premiere of a movie!" Jason shrugs his arm over the back of his chair as he faces you.

You beam as you laugh because getting him in trouble with Dick is one of your favorite pastimes. He makes it so easy. "Okay and what about the Nerf war you started and Dick nailed all of us later that night? Or that time you said it would be funny to change all of the passcodes to fucking 42069 or when it was your idea to bookmark the weirdest out-of-context shit we could think of on all the shared electronics? And turning Dick blue, was technically your idea, I just told you to do it."

"What...what did you bookmark?" Molly asks hesitantly.

Jason gains a smirk, snickering it himself. "Use your imagination."

"It was not porn." You assure her. "We just wanted Dick to have some serious questions and boy did he."

"See, it was fun." Jason defends his stance.

"You ever do that to Bruce?" You questions.

"Oh, I did bookmark porn." Jason cackles while Molly groans and you let out a scoff.

"Of course you did." Molly nods her head.

The conversation continues, Jason and you bouncing back and forth with stories, almost all of them about harassing Dick. But you both tell stories about Gar and Rachel, too. Movie nights and video games. Molly is attentive and the entire time, she grows more confused about your dynamic. Molly's known Jason long enough now and she deems them fairly close but she's never seen him like this before. Not with anyone. And Molly remembers how you were and this is new, too. She isn't going to badger either of you but she definitely takes notice in how Jason's hand keeps dodging under the table every so often and you look at him every single time.

"Here." Molly hands over her phone over to you. "Put in your number."

You take the phone with gentle hands, typing away and then Molly gets a glimpse at the fading ligature scars as your sleeves fall down. Molly looks directly at Jason and he just shakes his head quickly, silently pleading with her not to bring it up. You're having a good time. If Molly brings it up, Jason knows you will shut down as you fumble for another lie. He doesn't want this exchange to go that way. You're long-lost friends and you will tell her in your own time but now is clearly not when you want to discuss any of it. And Molly accepts the plea.

"Here.” You smile softly, handing the phone back to Molly.

"I’ll text you." Molly nods softly and she swallows her questions.

"Well, we should probably head out. Bruce has a thing for us later." Jason clears his throat, standing from his seat.

You look at your phone and know it's because Jason will want to get a sparring session in before he goes on patrol. "Forgot about that." You stand with Jason while Molly follows suit.

The two of you hug quickly, saying your goodbyes before Jason and you head for the door.

He didn't know Molly was your friend. You went through your social media and archived those posts before Jason followed you. It was easier that way, you told yourself. It's why you also soft-blocked her because while you wanted to reach out, the idea of doing so and her knowing you were alive somewhere was terrifying. You were terrified she'd be mad, never forgive you for it. That's not Molly but it was scary anyway. So, Jason didn't know. But, you find yourself eternally grateful anyway. And you think he's the only one who would have noticed your apprehension about talking.

Jason and you get to the bike. Jason gets on first while you stand off to the side. Jason is ready to go but you’re still watching him, your helmet on your hip. You’re looking at him and sometimes, you give him this stare where Jason thinks you might be able to see through him. Like, maybe you can see every thought that passes through his head. It almost makes him want to push. Just almost because he can never decipher exactly what the look means.

"What? Not getting on?" Jason asks, securing his helmet on his head.

"Thank you." You let out a breath. "You didn't have to cover for me."

Jason shrugs his shoulders and he knows the look isn't one of thanks because you don't get it every time he does something for you. That's not it either. "'Know you don't like talking about that shit. And you clearly didn't want to."

He wishes he had someone that would cover for him because sometimes, giving the same damn spiel about his mom and dad and uncle just gets a little tiring. That's why he always handles it nonchalantly. Not having to air out dirty laundry and baggage is a privilege and Jason thinks you should have that privilege, even if it's just for today.

"Yeah, but thanks. I don't think anyone would have been as quick as you were about it."

Jason nods his head. "Hey, look, I'm just glad you got your friend back." He'll always cover for you if you want him to.

"Yeah, now I have you, Gar, Molly, and Krypto." Your smile is so bright Jason thinks it could light up all of Gotham.

"He's still a dog." Jason quips back.

"He's still the bestest boy out of all of you." You hold your head up high, popping your helmet on your head.

"If you fucking call me the bestest boy, I will stop fucking talking to you."

"Awwww, you seem the type to have a praise kink though." You quip, getting on the back as Jason lets out a scoff, his words nearly lodging in his throat.

"Not according to my notes from last night." Jason chuckles. "That'd be you." He turns his head to look back at you and he's thankful for the helmet hiding the burning of his cheeks.

You slide your face shield down. "Oh, so you're taking notes?"

Jason nearly chokes on his own laugh. "Fuck off. You ready?"

"I guess." You mock him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

Back at Wayne Manor, the two of you change into athletic wear and meet in the training room. You spar as per usual. Jason beats you every time. But you’re getting better. Every time you spar, Jason finds himself impressed because you pick up a lot on what he does and then mimic it. It's not helping you in sparring him, but he's completely confident it will help you in any real fight with anyone else. It's smart.

After your showers, Jason starts food for the both of them. You help as much as Jason will let you. This is his element and you find it endearing. You watch him and listen when he tells the story of how Alfred taught him. He's so airy about it, enthusiastic, and a little sad. He didn't know Alfred very long before he died but he clearly meant a lot to Jason. And you think you could listen to him all night if he'll keep talking.

Once dinner is done, you, Jason, and Bruce eat together. You and Jason mostly talk about meeting up with Molly and Jason learning from Alfred because he decided to bake cookies at four in the morning and woke him up. It's actually the first time you’re seeing Bruce in this light and for the first time, you kind of understand Jason's view of him. Just kind of. He doesn't seem so bad.

After dinner, you and Jason do the dishes. Jason washes while you dry. Jason glances over to you every so often and some of this almost makes him feel uneasy. It's easy with you and it feels normal but easy and normal aren't things he normally gets to experience. He's a vigilante superhero. That's not normal or easy but this feels that way with you. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes. He wonders if this will always be like this. Just him and you doing the dishes before patrol. And he gets this small hint of a smile at the thought of it because he almost has a feeling of security in thinking about the future with you.

And then you snap him from his thoughts, picking up your leg and bending your knee to kick him in the butt. Your laugh reverberates against the walls and Jason's heart skips at the sound. And he has to laugh with you, splashing the soapy water at you.

"Fuck you." Jason chortles, his nose scrunching.

"Time and place, Jay." You beam up at him and Jason gains his signature smirk, licking his lips.

"Got time before patrol." Jason states.

"Don't wanna wear you out." You quip as Jason hands you the last plate.

"Like to see you try, babe.” Jason wiggles his brows while your cheeks start to burn. “Hey," Jason shakes his head. "You wanna see if you can come out with us tonight?" Jason asks.

He's been wanting to ask all week. You’ve seemed to be enjoying your break away from being a vigilante and Jason doesn't really understand that part of you. But you did say you'd want to get back out there. He figures maybe tonight could be the night.

"Why? You want me to come?" You flash him a grin as he dries his hands and tosses the towel to the side.

Jason looks up with his eyes, a smirk dancing over his lips. "Maybe."

You shake your head, resting the dry plate to the side as you turn around, leaning your back against the counter. "Maybe another time, bring it up to Bruce." You smirk at him and you are wanting to get back out there. It's only been a few weeks but you miss it. That night with Jason, last week was so fun, sure, Bruce will be there. But it's something and you get can back to feeling useful if Bruce will let you.

"Yeah?" Jason's heart jumps to his throat and wants to reach and grab your waist.

"Yeah, kicking ass with you is fun." You give him a wild smile and he thinks he's going to combust.

"Alright, I'll ask." Jason nods his head and you get the sight a sheepish but accomplished smile on his lips. He's just so damn cute. "Wanna check out the Batcave before we have to get ready?"

"Uh, yeah." You state quickly. "Finally."

Jason takes your hand in his and leads you to the grandfather clock in the living room. Jason changes the time on the clock making the grandfather clock slide across the floor, leading into a stone hallway. You find that to be a weird point of access but it is hidden and kind of cool. You'll give Bruce that.

On the walk through the cave, going deeper under the house, Jason gives you a rundown of the rules. No joyrides in the Batmobile, don't tell anyone or show anyone. Simple rules that you already figured but Jason was told to make sure to go over them even though Jason knows Bruce will later anyway.

"This is it." Jason stretches his arms out as you enter the Batcave, passing by some tech and a hallway where you can see the Batmobile sitting.

It really is a cave. You aren't sure exactly what you expected, but you didn't think the cave thing was literal. And yet. Here you are, standing in a massive cave under Wayne Manor. There are things from the Riddler, Scarecrow, Mr. Freeze, and several other of Gotham's most notorious almost on display throughout the cave. You spot a dinosaur off to the side and you almost ask. You almost ask what the fuck but decide it's probably better you don't know why Bruce has a T-rex in the Batcave.

"It's literally a cave under his house." You state in awe as you reach one of the display cases that holds the Robin suit.

"Yeah." Jason chuckles, looking to his shoes and back to you. "Bats and caves go hand in hand."

"I guess." You laugh softly as you eye the Robin suit. "Your suit always like this?"

"Yeah." Jason nods his head. "Only comes out when we're out or when I'm traveling. Bruce's in another case hidden away." Jason explains.

"Interesting." You nod your head. It's weird seeing it on display but now you get the display room back at the tower. It was a Bruce thing. "And the batcomputer?" You ask, turning around to see a giant computer sitting in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, that's where a lot of it goes down. Researching, tracking those freaks down." Jason boasts and he does love this gig.

You think he's cute when he talks about it. His entire face lights up every single time. It means the entire world to him. And you wonder why, if it's more than just him wanting to be helpful and wanting to feel useful. But, you decide maybe she won't ask.

"This is so sick," You beam back at him. "Batman whatever, but this shit is cool." You’re amazed, looking around. You never thought you'd be in the actual Batcave at any point in your life.

"Right?" Jason agrees, leaning his lower back against the desk under the computer screens.

You walk up to him and stand right in front of him, Jason eying you carefully. It's as if every day, he shows you something new and you like him that much more. You see parts of him no one else is ever allowed to and you’re seeing the Batcave which might be Bruce's but it's Jason's, too. And you like that this is how it is. You like where you are and how you are. You like him, all of him. But you look at him with a satisfied and happy grin as you look around the Batcave and the dangers of it all settle into the marrow of your bones.

You all lost Donna. You know already. But seeing the Batcave is another reminder of what he does as Robin. No powers. Just human doing his best out there to help people. And that part scares you. Worried he won't come home one day. So, you close the distance between you and swear you won't ever tell him that.

You smirk, instead, Jason's eyes darting you up and down. "What's up?" Jason nods his head, his hands still gripping the desk under him.

You shrug, cupping his face before you press your lips to his. It sucks the breath right out of him and he doesn't miss a beat, bringing his hands to your hips and yanking you as close to him as possible. Your mouths intertwine into one and Jason lives for this. It's the not talking shit that you do. It’s the way you can kiss him now and know that's it.

You kiss and then sometimes more happens, or sometimes this is all it is. And that works for him because he's allowed to like you from this distance. He's allowed to let his heart and his blood adjust to the idea of it. To the idea of trusting another person like this. It allows him time to be careful with himself and with you. He can be sure you won't hurt each other like this. And he loves the way your mouth moves with his.

You pull away, your hands lightly gliding over his shoulders. "Don't do anything fucking stupid tonight, Jay." There's a flicker of worry that crosses your eyes, for just a split second and Jason can see it.

Jason squeezes your hips, a sign of reassurance. "Of course not." Jason chuckles. "Got a plan."

"Mhm." You hum. "Always got a plan."

"Always, babe." Jason furrows his brows, letting a smirk come to his lips. "Don't worry so much.".

You shrug a shoulder. "Someone has to."

Jason laughs softly, squeezing your hips again. "I'll be fine." Jason moves his hand to your chin moving your face closer to his again. "I got it." His voice goes a little graveled before he kisses you again.

Jason and Bruce get ready to leave not long after Jason and you come back from the Batcave. This leaves you alone in the Manor again. You don't mind it much, but it gives you a little bit more space to think and you were never a huge fan of thinking.

Your mind goes back to the tower that night it was attacked. And you wonder what would happen if someone figured out Bruce was Batman and then attacked the manor. What if it happens when they're not home? What if it's people like CADMUS? Where there's a lot of them and they're strong and you’re outnumbered? What if they want metahumans? The panic starts to set in so you go to your room and lock the door, grabbing a few of your knives.

You place one of the switchblades under your pillow, making sure it's locked before doing so. And then you place another in both of your nightstands, making sure there's always one around. Then you hide one on top of the fireplace in the middle of the room, just in case. When you’re done, you sit down with a knife in hand and pull out your phone.

You call Gar who, naturally answers after only a few rings. You talk every day still so you calling didn't send up any red flags. You kick off the conversation by asking how things are going and what he's up to. Gar asks the same back and you just say you’re kind of freaked yourself out a little and you’re trying to be honest about it. You know you’re just being paranoid but you’re freaked out anyway. So, Gar offers to stay on the phone with you until the Titans have to leave.

You keep in touch with the Titans regularly. Dick and Kory check in with you every so often to make sure everything is going okay. It's kind of nice actually. Being across the entire country and still having them on your side. You didn't really expect it but it is nice and you appreciate it. And talking with Gar is helping a little. So, when Gar says he has to go, you finds yourself getting up and grabbing your scrapbooking things before sitting back on the bed and turning on a movie.

It's after three by the time Jason and Bruce get home. You can hear them come in so you get up to unlock and up open your door, assuming Jason will find his way to you once he's changed and showered.

It's less than fifteen later when Jason appears in your doorway. Jason gets a look at you sitting cross-legged on your bed, your scrapbook stuff scattered about your entire bed and a knife sitting just off to the side. His brow quirks at it but he thinks maybe you needed it for something. And he goes back to thinking about you being beautiful and content like this. In your element with a movie on, in pajamas. And he can't help but smile softly.

"Hey." Jason says, keeping his stance. But his voice is a little groggy and he hates the way it sounds.

"How'd it go?" You ask, barely glancing at him to not seem too eager to see him.

But there's silence that follows. Seeing you, it brought him a sense of relief and comfort. A stark contrast to what he's actually feeling right about now. Patrol did not go well. And he can't lie because you'll look over at him fully eventually and call his bluff. So, instead, he hangs his head and lets the silence swallow him hole.

You look over, not liking the silence and your entire face falls at the sight of him You quickly get up from the bed and close the distance between you. It's hard. You've been injured together and you see him with bruises all the time, but it's hard. He's in pain, taking hits and getting hurt. And it hurts to see him beat up and feeling beat up. At least most nights when he comes home with a bruise, he's got that cocky grin and some story about kicking someone's ass. But, that's not the look he's giving you right now and it hurts.

"What the hell happend?" You ask, looking over his face, your hand lightly coming up to cup his jaw.

There's a light red bruise hugging his opposite jaw, a purple bruise starting right under his eye, and, blood is still dripping down the side of his face and his lip. There's a cut on his neck and Bruce was there. How did he even manage to get hurt?

Jason shrugs, a dullness in his usually vibrant eyes. "Did not go to plan." He looks exhausted.

You know he hasn't been sleeping much but this is bad. He looks defeated and you don't understand how he's managing to get so beat up when Bruce is supposed to be beside him. It doesn't make any sense.

"Fucks sake, Jay." You shake your head. "Come on." You reach down for his hand and drag him to the bathroom that sits between your rooms.

Jason takes a seat on the counter directing you to one of the cabinets that has all of the first aid supplies.

Jason's hands are shaking as he tries to calm down, resting them in his lap as he waits. A part of him doesn't even want your help right now. He wants to fight this. Fight everything and everyone around him, it should have been fine tonight. He's done this a million times but then he gets so fucking lost in his head, he loses it. It's not fair. And he's terrified Bruce is gonna catch on and take Robin away. How is he supposed to be Robin if he can't fight crime without getting hurt?

"Are you okay?" You ask, grabbing an alcohol pad to start cleaning the cut on his forehead.

"I'm fine." Jason grits his teeth.

"What happened?" You clean up the blood softly before moving up the cut, Jason barely even flinching with the sting.

"Just some fucking bullshit." The worst part is, he doesn't even know what actually happened. He just knows he paused again and all he can feel through his entire bloodstream is shame.

"That's descriptive," You state, glancing to his face and searching for any sign of anything other than exhaustion but you come up empty.

"It doesn't fucking matter, I fucked up again." Jason's scoff is bitter while you grab another alcohol pad and start cleaning the cut on his neck. Jason hisses in return, scrunching his nose.

"Did you?" You ask, looking to his eyes and then back to the cut.

"Clearly."

"Just because you got hurt doesn't mean you fucked up, Jay." You keep your voice level and calm, knowing this side of him all too well.

"Bruce said I did." Jason mutters and you pull away, tossing the alcohol pad in the trash.

"What do you mean?" Your brows furrow as you grab a gauze pad, lightly holding it to his head to stop the bleeding.

"Didn't listen, went off on this guy before Bruce was ready."

"Okay, so what happened?" You press.

You don't get it. Why would he do that? He's capable but why wouldn't he just listen to Bruce? It's not like this is new to either of them. It doesn't make any sense.

"Doesn't fucking matter." His voice is snippy but defeated and you get a glimpse at his shaky hands.

"Jay, hey, look, I'm worried about you, okay?" You eye him carefully deciding not to ask why he would do that. He's beating himself enough without you badgering him about his decision-making. "Your hands are still shaking." You offer a subtle nod, placing your free hand on top of his.

"Just an adrenaline dump." Jason brushes it off. He doesn't need you disappointed and worrying too much.

"Are you sure?" You aren't buying it. His hands shook like this after Deathstroke.

"Yeah, I'm fucking fine, alright? It's just bullshit, should have had him and I don't know. I don't know what happened."

It's not you. It'll never be you that's the problem but he can't stand the way he can't do anything anymore without being paralyzed with fear. And he hates how he can feel the burning in the back of his eyes because it's like he's losing his ability to be good at the one thing he always felt good enough for. Robin. And who he is if he can't do that anymore? And he’s just so damn mad at himself.

You nod softly. "Okay, well, if you're not, you can tell me. I won't tell Bruce." You try your best to reason with him.

You’re worried. And when he looks like this, every part of you wants to fight the entire universe for him. All you want is to make it all go away for him. And you just want him to be okay again.

Jason thinks about telling you. You won't judge him or be mad like Bruce. You'll nod and tell him it's not his fault. But he can't do that to you because he knows you worry about him. You’ve never kissed him before patrol before. He's not that dense.

"I'm fine, I don't know what happened, really." Jason urges and he gains a smile, placing his hand over yours that's holding the gauze. "Don't worry so fucking much."

"I'm always gonna worry about you, Jay," You roll your eyes and grab the butterfly stitches. And you pause for a second, sucking in a breath and decide to bite down your question. But Jason can see it picking at you as you go to place the stitches.

"What?" Jason questions, looking up at you.

You shake your head and you want to ask him if he's ever thought about taking a break to take care of himself but you think maybe he'll take it the wrong way right now. He's beating himself up enough and asking that now is going to make it worse. But, you help but can't worry about him and there's something off. You can see it across his face.

"I want to ask you something but I think you're gonna take it the wrong way and push me away." You state, keeping your stare on the cut.

He's looking up at you, watching as his heart stops in his chest. He doesn't want to push you away but if it's a question you’re worried about, he knows he's not going to like it. Maybe he will push. And that's not very fair to you.

"I won't." Jason states, letting a breath fall harshly into the air.

"Promise? Because I don't mean anything by it." You tread lightly and you know him. You’re going to ask and he's going to get mad.

"Okay." Jason’s voice is flat.

You place the final stitch before you make eye contact with him and place your hand over his in his lap. They're cold and Jason's hands are never cold.

"Have....have you thought...about taking a break from Robin?"

Jason feels his stomach fall a hundred stories. His heart stutters and everything feels cold. How could you possibly ask him that? Just because a break works for you, doesn't mean it'll work for him. You know how much Robin means to him and you’re asking him anyway. How can you ask that of him?

"You don't want me to be Robin?!" Jason barks, his brows pulling into a harsh line and you knew he'd take it the wrong way.

"No." You shake your head. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm just--"

"What?! Bruce thought I needed a fucking break!" Jason pulls his hands from yours and you take a step back. "Dick wouldn't fucking let me and look where that lead us! Taking a fucking break doesn't do fucking shit!"

"Hey, no, that's not what I'm saying, Jay. They forced a break onto you!" You yell back. "I mean you, have you thought about taking a break for you? On your own terms. Not for them. Fuck them. You know damn well I am on your side 100% of the time."

"But you're asking! You don't think I'm good enough for--"

"Shut up." You cut him off. "Don't put that shit on me because I didn't say anything. I asked you a question. Don't try and read between lines that aren't there. I am asking you because I am worried and I know you don't like it but that's just too damn bad, Jay. You ARE good enough. I'm taking a break and what? Do you think I'm not good enough for it?"

Jason pauses. "No...you are." Jason scoffs. "But I didn't fucking ask you to!"

"I know! And I'm not asking you to." You shake your head. "I don't even know if I think you need a break, but if I did, I still would never ask you to take a break. It's not my place to ask that of you. I--" You feel your heart skip and you are terrified of losing him. That's what this whole thing boils down to. You can't lose him. "I just..."

"What?" Jason asks but this time, he lacks some of the venom, getting the sense something's going on.

"I...I just..." You stutter because you have so much to say and none of the words will come out. They stick to your vocal cords as if it's a lifeline to everything you’ve come to adore over the last few months. "You....you go out every night with Bruce and...." The lump grows in your throat as your brows furrow and Jason feels the guilt seep into his blood. Maybe your question wasn't about him. "I don't know." You shake your head. "You're human, ya know? No powers and...I know that, obviously. Deathstroke and shit but uh...I don't know."

"What?" Jason pushes and there's a fear that creeps into his voice.

You almost tell him you’re worried about him not coming home. You almost tell him that if he goes out one night and doesn't come home, you'd lose it entirely. You almost tell him he's it for you. But, none of those words make their way to the surface because what you two are is fun and what you are isn't too pressured and what you are allows you both to exist in a simple bubble. What you are allows you both a safe distance from pain.

Jason thinks this is gonna be it. This is gonna be where you finally say the words and it changes everything. He's not ready to commit to it. It still scares the ever-living shit out of him and he also knows that turning you down again would be miserable. To go back to being just friends? Nothing else? That is agonizing. So, he sits nearly paralyzed, waiting to see where this going.

"I'm just worried about you, Jay." You stick to your usual form of concern and Jason can't figure out why his heart just fell into the pit of his stomach.

Jason lets out a breath that’s almost painful. He needs a way to reassure you that he’s fine. But, he swears that’s going to be harder than it should be. You see through every piece of bullshit he’s thrown at you. But, he has to try anyway because Jason has to believe he’ll be fine and that he’s just a little off. It’ll all be fine in the end. He just needs a little more time.

"Don't worry so much." Jason states and extends his arm out for you. You close the distance between you, standing between his legs. "I'm fine, alright? You don't have shit to worry about. I'm just a little off my game. It's not a thing."

You rest your forehead against his and Jason lets out a relieved breath. "I, um...." You pause for a second. "Just really care about you. Not sure what I would do if I lost you, ya know?"

He has never had anyone so afraid of losing him before. It's foreign. He doesn't know how to process it or what to do with it. He can't stop being a vigilante and deep down, he knows you would never ask him to stop and he doesn't even really believe you want him to. But, you make valid points and he also knows that if it were you coming like he does, he'd be worried, too.

Jason pulls away, cupping your face with is hands. "You're not gonna lose me, alright?" Jason gets a cheeky grin. "I'm fine."

He wants to push and run and flee. He wants to get the hell away from this conversation. It's the exposure of being a little vulnerable. Before, he could get used to it but now you both have that added layer of benefits and you’re saying you’re terrified of him dying and he feels so exposed.

Sun exposure can lead to skin cancer. Smoke exposure can lead to lung cancer, COPD, and smoke inhalation, all of which are deadly. Exposure to elements while being unprepared is also deadly. Exposure is deadly and he feels that fear knocking and pounding at the back of his head and against his rib cage.

And yet he finds himself wondering how someone who also hates being so exposed, just like him, is finding it in yourself to expose that part of you. You don't stutter much around him anymore but you just did, a lot, which means you were nervous. Exposed but you did it anyway for him and he doesn't fucking get it. It might as well be rocket science at this point.

And if he weren't so damn terrified of exposure and commitment and everything around him, he'd tell you he's afraid of losing you, too.

So, instead of running or pushing like he so desperately wants to do, he rests his forehead back against yours while your eyes close. Your thumbs run over his thighs and you fall into a silence as if knowing there should be more said in this conversation. But neither one of you are willing to say it.

Jason's heart is beating against his ribs and he thinks his heart is directly beating in search for yours. Maybe it's always been beating for a place to call home and it longs for yours because you’re the closest thing to home he's ever felt. And he wishes he could just tell you that.

But where words fail, actions can speak.

He pulls away, and lifts your chin, kissing your lips gently and softly. He can feel you smile against him and it brings him a sense of ease. The night still weighs heavy on his chest and in his stomach but you kiss him back, just as gently, and it makes the night seem a little easier to swallow. The way you kiss him, makes it a little easier for him to swallow the words he wishes he could say.

"What was that for?" You ask softly because he's never kissed you like that before.

"Thanks for giving a shit about me." Jason lets out a breath.

You let out a laugh, your nose scrunching. "Always." You suck in a breath and you want to understand every part of him. Jason isn’t all that hard to figure out but there are some things you realize you’ve never asked. And all you ever want to do is to be there for him and understand him, just as he does for you. "Can I ask you something?" You ask, pulling away to finish tending to the cut on his neck.

"Sure." Jason tilts his head so you can have better access to the cut.

"Why does Robin mean so much to you?" You glance to him, seeing his brows pull together in a harsh line. "I'm just wondering. I never asked before."

Jason lets out a breath. "I get to help people." Jason states. "Get to kickass with Batman every night, it's the sickest gig in the world." Jason chortles and his laugh makes your heart warm.

"That it? Get to kick some ass helping people?" You ask but the corner of your mouth is tugged up.

"I'm good at it." Jason states as you finishes placing the gauze pad.

His entire life, he's never felt good enough but he's always had this heart of gold. He's always just wanted to help and be helpful. That's it. And Robin lets him do that in such a big way. He doesn't even have the right words to describe it and a part of him doesn't even want to because he thinks it might sound lame out loud. But, he can see you offering him a soft smile.

"Yeah, you are the better Robin." You laugh softly.

"Yeah, thanks." Jason chuckles softly and he plays a big game but it's hard filling in Dick's shoes sometimes. "Just feel fucking important I guess. Like what I do matters."

You pause, your brows furrowing and you’re making it your mission to always make sure he feels important. You place your hands on his thighs while Jason's hands come to your hips. "I am not Robin but, uh, you're important to me, too, ya know? Even without Robin."

Heat rises to Jason's cheeks and he never really knows what to say when you say something like that. "Thanks." He clears his throat because he's worried this might go to a talk of sorts with the comment and he doesn't want it to go there. It can't go there. "What were you working on?"

"Scrapbook." You state and you decide to let him switch the conversation.

"What's it about?"

"It's a secret," You tease him, looking back at him before you grab a wet rag and start cleaning the cut on his lip.

"Come on," Jason groans, smirking under your touch. "Can't even tell me?"

"Nope." You pop the p and your mouth is tugged into a grin.

"Wow, thought there were no secrets between us." The sarcasm drips from his words.

You pull away and grin at him. "Oh, that are plenty of secrets, Jason Todd."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Jason's voice drops and he knows what you’re doing.

"They wouldn't be secrets if I told you." Your eyes widen at him.

He wants to hear all of your secrets. All the good, the bad, and the ugly. Jason holds many secrets close to his chest and you do, too but he wants to know yours. He'd be willing to sit and tell you more of his if you can do the same. You’re the only one he's ever felt that way with. He wants to know every detail.

"Tell me one." His voice goes soft, catching you off guard.

You rest the rag in the sink, placing your hands back on his thighs. "Then you have to tell me one." Your eyes narrow slightly, a smirk dancing over your lips.

Jason gets a smirk, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips. "Deal."

You think all of your secrets are about him. He knows everything else. You’ve told him it all whether he knows it or not. The only ones you have left are the ones about him and those are the ones most guarded. They are yours. They stay locked behind your ribcage to keep you and Jason like this. Flirt and fun and no strings attached. But, he's got these big green eyes that make your secrets want to spill out carelessly.

"Okay, are we having a discussion about these secrets or not?" You ask bluntly and you want to know what's safe to tell him now. You don't want the talk yet. What you're doing is fun and easy. You don't want to complicate it just yet.

Jason shakes his head. "Nope." He doesn't want the talk either. This is comfortable. He wants to be comfortable a little bit longer with you.

"It was always you." Your voice is so quiet Jason almost doesn't hear you and Jason just eyes you as your eyes divert to your hands slightly gripping his thighs.

If things didn't get complicated with Rose and the attack on the tower, and if he wouldn't have pushed you away and if you wouldn't have run, you would have told him. You would have just said the words but all of those things happened. And while you don't want that conversation right now because things would change too much too soon, you do want him to know. He beats himself up when things go wrong and Jason thinks he's not worthy of being cared for or important to other people. He deserves to know.

His heart nearly stops in his chest. He racks his brain, trying to figure out exactly what that means because it cannot mean what he thinks it means. But he's almost positive there can't be anything else you mean by that. He remembers every conversation you’ve ever had and you wouldn't tell him something he wouldn't remember. The only thing that comes to his head is him and Gar. And that thought is banging and pounding against his ribcage, trying to thrash its way out into the open air and ask. To verify that's true. But, he can't. His ribcage stays closed and locked and guarded.

"Don't dig into it." You state as you finally look back at him and see the gears in his head start to move. "Your turn."

Jason bounces too many secrets around on his head. He could tell her so many. He's thought about kissing you since that day in the training room where you told him what happened to you. He wishes he would have kissed you both of those nights in the bathroom. He should have asked you to leave with him. But all of those seem too heavy and he knows you will want to dig into them. That's not fair to you. He won't do that. And that’s why he doesn’t tell you it should have been you, it’s always been you. You deserve to know, too but you’ll dig and he knows you will. That’s not fair. So, he picks something else that's still honest, but not something that'll bother you.

"I like when you help me like this. Never liked when Bruce or Alfred would offer." Jason’s voice is soft but a little hesitant.

You offer him a gentle smile and you actually expected him to say something less serious, something more of a joke. You were okay with that. So, this is surprising.

"I'll always clean you up." You laugh softly.

Jason isn't gonna talk about it. Not even that, it's too much tonight so instead, he pulls you closer to him before sliding his hands up to your face and bringing your lips to his.

Over the next few weeks, things continue as normal. You and Jason continue your new arrangement and it's going well. You've managed to keep it between the two of you, not even realizing Bruce and Molly have definitely figured something was going on. You're existing in your own bubble together. Bruce upped your training so he knows what you’re capable of. He's happy to have you along on patrol but he's going to make sure you’re safe just as he did with Jason and Dick.

Training with Bruce is different than Dick and Jason. Dick was defensive, Jason is offensive, and Bruce is a mix of both as well as observing. But, you follow along with him just fine and Bruce has you fitted for a suit because if someone is going on patrol with him, they need extra protection. And you’ve felt comfortable enough on the bike, with Jason's teaching, that you applied for a motorcycle license and are just waiting for the all-clear. Jason assures you that they approve most people and you don't need a standard license to even apply. So, you’re not worried.

Now though, you’re hanging out with Molly at Molly's apartment in Crime Alley. You've been hanging out a lot more and you feel so happy. You were best friends your entire lives and you missed her. It's why you never mentioned her by name. Keeping her name out of your mouth, kept the ache of missing her at a distance. But you're back together and Molly missed you, too. She always worried you found yourself dead somewhere. She's relieved you were just across the country.

"I missed this place." You let a sigh, opening the take-out box.

"I swear, we'd eat there every weekend. I haven't had this is forever." Molly laughs softly. It was your favorite place, eating there hurt.

"Really? This was the first place I wanted to hit when I got back. Jason and me went the very next day I was here." You beam.

"Oh, you took Jason to your favorite take-out place?" Molly asks with a grin, her sitting down and opening her own take-out back.

"Yeah! He needs to experience it, too." You defend. "Why?"

"Just funny." Molly laughs softly. "Seems nothing has changed though. Getting the same order."

"And the place looks the exact same." You gesture your fork at Molly. "Tim still helping out, just as a full-time employee now."

"Yeah, instead him running orders in between doing his homework," Molly laughs and Tim is the son of the owners of the restaurant.

The three of you aren't friends by any means but you've had your fair share of conversations over the years. Tim was always in the restaurant when you and Molly would pop in and the natural order of things would be to talk to people around the same age.

"Feels so homey." You smile softly.

Your phone vibrates and Molly has noticed your face lights up when you check it. You start typing and there's this smile on your lips that warms Molly's heart. You’ve always been a little cynical, just a little. But you were also happy. It's just, Molly hasn't seen you like this and you’ve been different. In some ways a good different and in others, not so much.

"How are you? It's been a few weeks and I haven't asked in a while. I wanted to give you some space." Molly’s voice is kind as she starts on her food.

"I'm really good, actually." You answer honestly.

You’re still having nightmares and you look over your shoulder still. But, you don't feel nearly as paranoid. The nightmares are slowing down. You’re getting a little more sleep. And then there's Jason. He makes you feel so at ease with everything.

"Good, you look happy." Molly’s smile is gentle and warm.

"Yeah..." You let out a soft sigh. You aren't sure you’ve ever been this happy as you type away as at a text which is of course just Jason asking what you and Molly are up to.

"So...you and Jason...?" Molly raises a brow at you.

"What about us?" You answer slowly, resting your phone on the table.

"You like him." Molly teases softly.

"Do I?" You quip.

"Yes. You have never been more obvious about something in your life." Molly laughs.

"What do you mean?" You snort with the shake of your head.

It's not so much that you care that Molly knows. It's that you know Molly and you know Molly is going to have a whole lot of questions as to why you haven't told him yet. In order for you to answer that honestly, you would have to tell Molly about Deathstroke which means Robin and you can't do that.

"Well, no one calls him Jay so there's that. You two are always touching each other in some way which is very uncharacteristic of the both of you. The way you guys joke with each other. You talk about him a lot. You talk about the other people but not like you talk about Jason. Then there's the way you look at—"

"Okay." You cut your off, getting the point. You didn't realize you made it so obvious. "I get it."

"So?" Molly presses.

"Yeah, he just...." You pause and a sad smile comes to your lips. "I really, really like him and he's such a brat, ya know? But...I don't know. He's...good. I don't know, he gets me and I get him. It's like we don't even have to talk to get it, I guess." Your brows furrow. "I don't know."

"He likes you, too you know?" Molly pokes at her food.

"How do you figure?" You chuckle and you’re always hoping he does but you highly doubt that’s a detail Jason told Molly.

"He watches you. Like, always. When he says something he thinks is funny, he immediately looks at you to see if you laugh which, by the way, you always do and Jason isn't that funny." Molly teases and it gets a laugh out of you. "He's really protective of you, I mean, he is with most but it's different with you, remember when we saw that move last week?"

"Yes?" You question and you’re not entirely sure what that has to do with anything.

It went as it always does when you go to see a movie. You tease Jason about how few movies he’s seen and he calls you a nerd and tells you to get out more. As far as you remember, it went as it always does.

"There was a guy eyeing you and you were oblivious to it because you were too busy watching Jason but Jason was staring that guy down so hard, I thought Jason was going to walk over and hit him, the guy left. If looks could kill, that guy would have been dead. Also, don't tell him I told you this, okay?"

"Okay?"

"When he came back, he told me about this girl and I've never heard him talk like that about someone before. He said she drove him insane but was also one of the coolest people he's ever met. And he missed her. I kind of thought he was talking about Rose. Like he wasn't over her because he said he was excited this girl was coming to Gotham but then you walked into the coffee shop that day and I knew he was talking about you not Rose. So, for what it's worth, he likes you."

Jason looped Molly in about Rose when he got back. He didn't tell her much but he did tell her. So, when Jason was also talking about this other girl, Molly kind of figured it'd be Rose because Jason, as long as Molly has known him at least, hasn't been with many people. It's not all that shocking with his inability to let people in so Molly always thought it was Rose. But, she watches Jason and you and realizes all those good things she's heard, were always about you. Not Rose. And Molly, for one, thinks the two of you would be good together.

A soft, sheepish smile tugs at your lips as your heart burns in your chest. "I didn't realize he talked about me."

It's a little surprising since it's Jason. But, your heart warms with the idea of him telling anyone about you. And him being excited for you to be in Gotham with him.

"You know Jason, super open and great at communication." Molly laughs softly. "So, have you told him?"

You shake your head. "No..." You mutter as you take a drink of your drink.

"Why not!? You always tell people and he likes you, too." Molly groans and Jason, she completely understands not saying anything but you? Not so much.

"It's complicated." You let out a sigh knowing complicated is an easy way to put it.

"Life is too short and you like him, he likes you. What's so complicated?"

You run every reason through your head. Deathstroke, almost dying, Gar, Rose, not wanting to get hurt again. Not wanting to Jason to die for you and Jason not wanting you to die for him. The whole idea of a relationship is terrifying. You’re both a little bit of mess at this exact point in time. The endless trauma that seems to follow you both around. And friends with benefits is fun. There are several reasons why this is complicated but most of those you can’t tell her. But, you can tell her one reason.

"I....okay...I can't tell you everything and I'm asking you to not ask about everything, okay? It's not my shit to tell. I can't tell you without telling you everyone else's shit and that's not fair."

"Okay?" Molly nods her head slowly, her brows furrowing together, unsure what you could possibly mean by any of that.

"So, uh....you just have to take what I tell you and don't ask questions and do not dig, I know you love to dig into things, so please don't."

"Okay, but you're freaking me out." Molly forces a small laugh.

"It's fine. But, look, something happened and uh....we got hurt. And I kissed him." You cut out every other important detail, knowing that likely makes very little sense.

"You did?!"

"Yeah, and I uh, I don't know. We went back home and we helping each other out and he told me he couldn't. He had his reasons and I...I agreed with him enough, I guess. And he said, that I was into Gar and he was into Rose anyway it wouldn't work with us. And that was the end of it." You poke your food with a fork because maybe that conversation still stings a little bit.

"You did it again." Molly groans as she she shakes her head.

"Yep." You nod your head. "I know, I realized that later. I should have fought but I did like Gar and he liked Rose. Those were facts we both knew. So, I Iet him push and I ran. And now, I'm....worried if I tell him, he won't pick me again and that'll suck. I know I put Gar in that shitty situation and that's not fair but I don't want him to push again. It just sucked."

You’re not a pick-me person but it hurt anyway. And you know that the odds of Jason pushing again, after everything and with where you stand right now, are probably pretty slim. But, there is that chance because he kissed you back that night, too. He never said he didn’t like you. But, that’s also a very, very small reason for not telling him. You think you could suck up the fear of it if it weren’t for everything else but you can’t tell Molly that. You can just give her this one, miniscule reason.

"Right, but you let him. And I'm telling you he likes you. What's the worst that can happen if you tell him?" Molly shrugs her shoulders.

"We'd have to talk about it and neither of us want to." You chortle.

"So don't? You tell him and then he tells you and that can be the end of it, you don't need to have this whole contract discussed and signed about it."

"Yeah..." You let out a sigh. "There is more to it but that's what I can tell you."

"We'll, regardless, you should tell him. You would be good together." Molly shrugs softly, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips.

"I will, I swear. But, we're just having fun right now and I think we're both comfortable here for now." You take a bite of your food with the shrug of your shoulders. "What about you?" You ask changing it back to Molly. "Seeing anyone?"

Molly laughs softly, getting the hint to switch subjects. "Kind of. There's a girl, Sheila."

“Oh, Sheila?” Your eyes widen. “Go on.” You urge with a wide smile.

When you get back of the Manor, you go looking for Jason. While things are getting better for you, they almost seemed to have stalled for Jason. He feels happy. That's not the issue. The issue is patrolling as Robin and then the lack of sleep. His nightmares are several times a week and he can't bring himself to sleep some nights. He lays with you and you fall asleep. He never expects you or wants you to stay up and suffer with him. Everything is just hard. And he's so angry about it.

He's scared of everything that moves sideways and he never used to be like that. He couldn't afford to be like that. All he does is feel weak and every time he fucks up on patrol, it gets worse. He feels that much more like a failure and disappointment to Bruce. Every time a nightmare hits, he feels worse. And he hates that his leg still hurts. It's not fair and he's fine, usually. He deals with it. But, there are some days, like today, when the world feels a little heavier.

"Hey." You greet him quietly as you walk into the library, Jason seated on the couch against the windows with a book open.

He looks over the book and he smiles, almost subconsciously. "Hey, how's Molly?"

"Good, we got food from that place I like." You smile softly as you walk further into the room. He's reading Frankenstein again and you think the bags under his eyes are darker today. "Reading, huh?" You tilt your head slightly to the right.

"Yeah," Jason answers plainly.

You sleep together nearly every night and Jason doesn't know, but you feel him awake sometimes. And when you try not to sleep in each other's rooms, usually one of you wakes up from a nightmare anyway and wanders into the other's room. More often than not, it's Jason coming into your room. And sometimes, you’re the one that goes into his room to wake him up because he's screaming so loud, it wakes you up in your own room. The only reason you aren't completely freaking out is because he's getting better about talking about his nightmares with you. But, it's clear it bothers him. You wish more than anything you knew how to help him.

"Loud?" You ask and that's one thing he adores and appreciates about you. You’re never afraid to ask him about it. And you never really have to. You know. He never has to tell you. No one knows him like you do.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Jason shakes his head, a gentle smirk on his lips. "Nope."

"Okay." You smile at him. "I'll be right back." You spin on your heels and dart out of the room, leaving Jason a little confused.

He goes back to reading his book until you walk in, carrying your scrapbook supplies in both arms, you have a warm but wide smile tugging at your lips. You sit on the floor at the table in front of Jason. Jason watches you get your supplies spread across the table and that's another thing about you. You just join him. You accept him not talking about everything because he will. He always tells you what's going on with him eventually. But until he's ready, you just sit with him so he's never alone.

"I'll just do my thing and you can talk if you want to or read." You smile widely at him as you look over your shoulder.

Jason lets out a soft chuckle. "Can read out loud if you want."

"I think you just like to hear yourself talk." You chuckle, looking back at the table.

"And you don't?" Jason chortles.

"I didn't say I didn't," You laugh softly and you could listen to him read an instruction manual and still be entertained.

"Yeah, alright. Did you want context?"

"No, you can just read." You answer softly, leaning over the table to open to the page in scrapbook you were last working on. And Jason starts reading.

Jason continues to read out loud and you work on putting your page together. Jason looks over his book after every paragraph, not even realizing he's doing it so often. But he can see some of what you’re doing and you’re working a page that looks to be all of the Titans. He can see a picture of Dick and Gar laid out while there's another one of Rachel on the actual page. And he smiles softly. He just likes you so much and he is so aware of it. You’re in your own little bubble with him reading to you and he thinks this is how it should be because it's peaceful.

Jason has never known peace. Between how he grew up and the streets and Robin, peace isn't exactly in his life. He didn't even think he knew a life could have peace. But then he meets you and somewhere between the chaos of your lives and falling into comfort with you, he realizes he's at peace when you’re around.

He wakes up from a nightmare and there you are looking at him with soft eyes and a look of worry across your face. But one that wreaks of kindness and adoration. And the nightmares don't seem so scary anymore. And then when things feel too heavy, you walk in and hold the world up with him. When he wants to absolutely lose it because patrol didn't go well and Bruce lectures him, you give him a smirk and it quiets the thoughts. When he thinks he's not worthy of anything good, you kiss him and he swears you are good. And maybe, just maybe, there is a part of him that can be deserving of you. When Jason doesn't think he knows what peace is, you walk in and decides to be his peace for him.

"Are you ever gonna show me?" Jason asks, looking up from his book and leaning slightly over the couch to get a better look.

You shove your book away from him. "You're so nosy." You give him a fake whine. "Maybe."

"Just maybe?" Jason leans all the way up, trying to get a look at the other side and you move it away.

"It's not done!" You turn to give him the fakest scowl he's ever seen.

"Sneak peak?" Jason gives you a cheeky smile.

"While that is cute of you, no."

Jason puts his finger in his book and swings his legs to the floor, planting his feet down. He leans over to you, closing most of the distance between you. His grin is wicked and wild like a rogue wave and you want to drown right into him.

"You're just gonna make me wait?" Jason's voice drops.

"Patience is a virtue, Jay." You lick your lips as you look to his.

"I'm not a patient person."

"Oh, I know." You laugh softly as Jason gets closer to you, his nose brushing over yours and you swear you'll never get used to it. You can feel him leaning over you though and you pull away, moving the book over. "Nice try."

Jason leans back with a booming laugh. "Worth a shot."

"Gotta be quicker than that, Jay."

"But you'll show me, right? When it's done?"

"Yes, of course." You roll your eyes. "It's just a book about you guys so I'll give that. You get to know what it's about." Your entire chest burns with his interest in your thing.

"The whole book?" Jason raises a brow.

"Mhm. You all get a dedicated page. But that's it, you don't get any more than that."

Jason's voice catches in his throat because if they all get a dedicated page, that means he does, too. "Oh, I get a page, huh?"

"Yes." You chew the inside of your cheek. "If you stop being so nosy, maybe you'll get two."

Jason wants to crack his rips wide open and let you take his heart right out of its place. He thinks maybe he was born with a broken heart, maybe it was supposed to be permanently damaged. And as he grew up, people took more pieces of his broken heart leaving him with this shell of something that doesn't even resemble a heart. Because it's guarded by so much barbed wire and latches, it's nearly impossible to access. But he wants to take all of that away and let you take what's left of it. He wants to give you every damaged piece of him he has left and maybe, just maybe, you'll offer a piece of yours for him. And his heart won't be permanently broken after all. Maybe. Just maybe, he's been wrong his entire life and he doesn't have to be broken forever.

Maybe he was born with a broken heart but maybe his heart wasn't destined to be permanently damaged.

"I'll take that." Jason beams at you and he wants to be involved in all of your hobbies.

He's not sentimental, but he wants to take all the pictures he possibly can in case you ever want them for a scrapbook. And he wants to go to your silly hobby stores and help you pick up more supplies. He wants to learn about how you choose a topic and how you plan your pages. He wants to know all of it.

"Can you show me how you do your scrapbooks sometime?"

Your brows furrow. "Um...yeah, of course. Didn't think you'd be into it."

"You like it." Jason states and you’re so head over heels for him.

"Can you teach me how to cook some of your favorites then?" You ask. "You like it." You state with ease.

Jason's smile is soft and loving. "Yeah, of course. Don't wanna learn your favorites?"

You shrug. "Yeah I do but...then I can make yours. You always make stuff for me."

"Alright." Jason chuckles softly and the both of you wonder how long you'll do this for. That was not a friendly thing either of you just offered and you both know it. "I'll teach you something tomorrow."

"Then I'll teach you tomorrow, too." You beam at him. "Think of a topic you want to do and find some pictures."

"Yes, ma'am." Sarcasm fills his words but he's so excited to learn about your thing. Jason leans in closer once more, almost kissing you before your attention is pulled to the doors by Bruce clearing his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt." Bruce states, eyeing the two of you and he finds this whole thing amusing. You both actually think he has no idea what's going on.

Jason leans back a little in his seat, cheeks shooting a fire engine red while you keep your attention on Bruce. Why do the older bats keep interrupting and how the hell do they always know? Jason though, can see that Bruce doesn't look mad or annoyed. He actually looks happy.

"Why are you so happy?" Jason questions.

"That's him being happy?" You whisper as you turn around to look at him and Jason chuckles quietly.

"Your suit has arrived." Bruce offers you a soft smile.

In all honesty, you thought that it would take longer but you can't be too surprised. This is Bruce Wayne.

"No shit?" You question and while you like to tease Jason about his suit, you do actually think it's kind of cool and you’ve been excited waiting for this day to come. That also means, you should be able to finally join them on patrol.

Jason moves to the edge of his seat because while this is your suit, he's just as excited. He remembers the first day he got to put on the Robin suit and he still deems that the best day of his life. He doesn't think it'll be like that for you but he's excited for you anyway.

"Would you like to see it?" Bruce asks.

"Hell yeah." You close your scrapbook and get to your feet, Jason immediately joining you.

The two of you follow Bruce down to the Batcave. Bruce hands you a suitcase, one similar to the one Jason has for the Robin suit. You head off to the bathroom/changing area and get changed. You look in the mirror and you beam with a sense of pride.

It's so lame and it's impractical to have to change but you really like it. In a way, it's as if it solidifies your role as a vigilante. You wear a mask and that's fine but this is different. This actually hides your identity better than just a mask does and you feel as if this is what you’re meant to do. The suit is the symbol of vigilantism and you feel so proud of it. It does not define you but you hold your head up high anyway. It just fits perfectly and it's yours. So, you walk out with your head high, a pep in your step.

Jason's eyes widen as he smiles widely, getting up from his seat at the batcomputer when you come into view. The suit is black but it has Pacific blue accents. The tactical belt is Pacific blue and the cape, that naturally has a hood, is also Pacific blue. There are two vertical stripes of blue fabric down your sides, the gloves that go almost to your elbow are blue as are your boots. The holsters hugging your thighs are even blue. Instead of a domino mask like Jason and Dick, you have a mask on the lower half of your face, covering your mouth. The mask is also blue. And Jason thinks you look absolutely amazing.

"Holy shit." Jason gawks.

"It's so cool, right?!!" You beam, nearly jumping.

Jason can't help but laugh. Of all people, he didn't think you would actually think the suit thing was cool. You’ve made fun of him a hand full of times about the Robin suit, mostly about the mask and cape. But, he finds it amusing anyway because you’re beaming at him and you’re he one that asked for the cape.

"I thought you said it was lame." Jason smirks at you.

"It is but it's so fucking cool!" You’re so excited and Jason can see the smile in your eyes. "Is my cape fireproof and bulletproof?" You look at Bruce who has a sense of pride. You’re not his vigilante in the same way Jason and Dick are and were but he thinks you'll do just fine.

"Yes, of course. All of your knives and tools fit in your belt and in the holsters." Bruce explains.

"This is so fucking cool, Bruce." You think you might vibrate right out of the suit from being too excited. "Thank you, seriously."

"You're very welcome."

"So, I can go on patrol now?" You look between the two of them.

"We go tonight." Bruce offers you a nod.

"You're a bat now." Jason quips, earning a fake glare from you.

"Guess, it's worth it. I mean, my cape is cooler than yours." You state as you pull the hood over your head. "I got a hood."

Jason lets out a heart-filled laugh. "Yeah, but yours was modeled after mine." Jason quips.

"Still it's so cool." You can't even fire back because this is just the coolest thing ever. "Gar is gonna lose his mind."

"He's gonna have a fuck ton of questions about it." Jason lets out a laugh.

"I know! But he'll think it's cool!"

"You're gonna hang out in that all day, aren't you?" Jason leans back against the desk to the batcomputer, a cocky and knowing grin on his lips.

"It is tempting." You let out a laugh as you look down over the suit.

"You'll be able to wear it plenty." Bruce chuckles and you remind him of Dick and Jason when they first put on their Robin suits.

Jason even said it was the best day of his life. It's like the suit makes it all real. It makes what you all do a reality, a sense of purpose. A sense of hope and that's why Bruce does it, recruits Robins. To help them and offer them a sense of purpose and hope. Even if things don't always go to plan.

"Thank you, again." You say genuinely.

"You're welcome."

"Can...can I show Gar? And the Titans?" You ask.

You’re not exactly sure where the line is on telling people. You know you can't just go out telling any random person, or friend that's not in your line of work. But it's the Titans, all of which know about Bruce.

"Yes." Bruce chuckles softly. "Just put it in the case when you're done." Bruce states before he exits the cave.

You pull out your phone and take a selfie, your eyes smiling for you and Jason shakes his head. You’re so pretty and funny and cute. Jason doesn't think he has enough words or even the proper words to describe how he feels about you. You walk up to Jason and hand him the phone.

"Wanna take one for me?" You ask.

"Sure." Jason chuckles softly and you stand in front of him, your hands on your hips with your head held proudly, the hood and the mask concealing most of your face and Jason has to give it to you. The hood was smart. "Here." Jason hands you the phone back as you look at the picture and you can't believe this is happening. Your entire life Batman and Robin have been the vigilantes of Gotham and now you’re one of them. It's insane. "It looks really good on you." Jason states softly.

"You think so?" You ask with hopeful eyes.

Jason nods, his eyes looking you up and down. "Yeah, it's fucking hot."

"Oh?" You question, pulling down your hood. "You think so?" Jason can't see it, but you’re giving him a teasing grin.

"Hell yeah." Jason closes some of the distance between you and he wonders if you see him like this in the Robin suit. You make fun of him sure, but now you’re the one in a suit and cape.

"Robin suit is pretty hot, too, ya know?" You shrug your shoulders lazily.

"You think so?" Jason's voice drops and he goes to look at your lips, realizing he can't so his eyes come back to yours and he swears he wants to drown in them. "Always making fun of me."

"Hell yeah." You pull the mask off and close the distance between you. "You're just easy to make fun of."

"Guess we just make a good team, huh?" Jason asks, his voice so low you can barely hear him and now he's freely glancing to your lips.

His hands rest on your hips, just above the tackle belt and he's never felt the fabric like this before, on someone else. There's a sturdiness to it. It's thick and textured under his callused palms. And a part of him, while he wants you to come on patrol, was a little nervous about it. With your whole ability to get kidnapped and held captive, or almost, it worries him just a little bit. But, you’re wearing this suit and he knows first hand that his suit protects him from so much every night and he doesn't feel so nervous about it anymore.

"Guess so." You lay your hands on his sides, lightly holding his t-shirt.

Jason grins before putting a finger under your chin and bringing your face to his, kissing you gently.

That night, you go out on patrol with Jason and Bruce for the first time. Going out with the Titans was always fun and riveting. It's one of the reasons you missed it but you were a big group. But, going out with just Bruce and Jason, it's just the three of you. And there's something about it you think you kind of prefer over the larger group. Even if that means working with Bruce. But, it's fun and you have a great time and patrol goes well. Nothing eventful really happened, just the usual small petty crimes but went well anyway.

The next day comes around Jason teaches you how to cook pot roast. It is his favorite meal after all. There's a lot of laughter and stolen glances. Jason's never taught anyone how to cook anything. It's always been him and then Alfred taught him some things. But that's all it ever was. And now he's here with you, teaching you and you’re like a sponge, absorbing everything he's telling you. You keep notes on your tablet and Jason thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. You do all of it for him. And for a second, Jason catches him thinking that friends don't do that. Again.

You're friends, that's been established whenever Molly asks. Or Bruce gives either of you one of his looks that somehow say everything and nothing all at once but they wreak of suspicion. When you first started this, you asked if it were friends with benefits and Jason said it'd be fun. It is. It is a lot of fun. But, he does find that maybe you're crossing that line more often than not now where it's not really friends anymore.

You reach for his hand during movies and TV shows so you can play with his fingers and he rubs your back and plays with your hair. You kiss a lot more than when you're joking or sparring or more. You’re dedicated to learning his favorite meals and he's dedicated to learning your hobbies. You sleep together more often than not. You are almost always together or texting when you're not. He always makes sure you’re tucked in when he wakes up first. And he swears friends don't do this and a part of him wants to freak out about it. Push you away and call this whole thing quits but he looks over at you as you beams with pure and unfiltered joy, and he knows he won't do that.

He decides, he wants this. Whatever the fuck this is going to be, he wants it forever. With you. He wants you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Jason wants you to give him all of your broken pieces and let him mend them back together or replace them with every whole piece he has left. He swears up and down he doesn't deserve it and he doesn't deserve you. But, right now, in this moment watching you learn his favorite meal with the happiest smile he's ever seen, he can try to be someone who does deserve you. He'll try to be someone you deserve. So, he smiles back at you and walk up to you, wrapping you in his arms before kissing you.

And you teach him stuff about scrapbooking. You went to the store before dinner and you’re positive you were probably annoying because while Jason is interested, he also is a huge dork. He really enjoyed the googly eyes and insisted he would need them. For what? You don't know but sure. He was just interested in everything and you watched him with stars in your eyes because Molly is the only one who ever showed interest in your things. Molly is the only one who let you go on movie rants but Jason does, too. Jason does with enthusiasm and then it's like he keeps a mental note of everything you have ever said. You don't know why he does it or how but it makes you feel important in a way you’ve never felt before.

As the week goes by, you think patrolling with Bruce is so bizarre. He's been Batman for your entire life and now you’re....sitting on rooftops which is an entirely other situation, with him. It's weird as shit. But, you are enjoying it. You like helping innocent people stay safe. And you get to spend some more time with Jason, you get to watch Jason in his favorite element. Kicking ass. And he's hot while he does it, too.

Now, you're back at the Manor and you’re the first one to shower this time. Showering after patrol is actually the best type of shower. Even if you don't do anything, something about it feels refreshing. For you, it's kind of like you come home and then you don't have to be a hero. You can exist. You step into the shower and that part of yourself gets to wash away with the water. You think it might be better that way because you think Jason's issue is that Robin has become so embedded in every part of him, he doesn't know how to fully separate himself from it. And while you adore him, you don't want that.

You watch him and you listen to him scream in the middle of the night. He doesn't deserve it and you don't want that either. So, you separate yourself from it and when you’re here, during the day and after patrol, you are not a hero. You’re you.

Jason has found himself in the bathroom with you. It's a routine you’ve gotten into. One of you showers while the other one brushes your teeth and gets mostly ready for bed. Neither of you are even entirely sure how it started but there's a sense of comfort in it. It feels normal and safe this way. Even though the Manor is probably the safest place in all of Gotham.

And Jason can see you through the frosted glass and he adores you. You’re pretty and smart as hell, you’re dramatic and funny in all the right ways. You get his sense of humor which is a feat in itself. You get him and Jason likes to be close to you. You take care of him in ways no one has ever done. He didn't think he deserved it but you do. You clean up his cuts and scrapes and never even flinch. You give him a look sometimes with the roll of your eyes and all he can do is smirk because he knows you worry but you support him anyway because it's his thing. And you rub his back and you always know when his leg hurts.

Jason thinks maybe you don't know he notices when you notice but he does because you’re always extra cautious around him. You take care of him and he's thinking it should be the other way around.

"Hey, can I come in?" Jason asks, hiding the hesitance in his voice.

Your brows furrow but you’re not about to tell him no. "Um...sure?" Jason hears you laugh and his body erupts with goosebumps.

He strips down and pulls the door open just enough to get in the shower with you.

You turn around, feeling the cool breeze on your skin. "What're you doing?" You ask through a laugh. He's never joined you for a shower before, not that you mind.

"Thought I'd help." Jason offers you a smirk.

Your brows raise. "With?"

"You wash your hair yet?" Jason questions and you’re watching his expression carefully and sometimes, he's really, really good at hiding exactly what he's feeling and thinking. And this is one of those times.

"Yes." You state, your eyes slightly narrowing at him.

"Anything else?"

"No." You can't help but laugh and Jason loves the way it echoes on the title walls.

"I'll wash your back for you." Jason holds his head up high and you offer him a shrug, turning around.

Jason grabs his own soap and pours some in his hands. Once his hands are lathered, he gently runs his hands over your shoulders and your entire body erupts with goosebumps, static settling into the marrow of your bones. Jason is always gentle with you, even when he's not. He's careful and tender. But, this is different. You aren't laying down together or laughing about something stupid. And he's doing this just because. And it's just so nice of him and sweet and tender. All words you think no one else would ever use to describe him. But you do.

Jason rinses his hands once he's finished rubbing the soap in and he uses his hands to start washing it away. He's careful over the scars, not wanting to put too much pressure on them but he allows himself to trace over them. He wishes you didn't have them, not because he doesn't like them, but because you shouldn't have been put through that. He'd go to hell and back to prevent it from ever happening again. If anyone deserves better in this world, it's you. It's always you.

Jason presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him. Your eyes are soft, brows slightly knitted together. You love how his hair sticks to his forehead when it's wet and the way his skin glistens with the waterdrops. You feel your heart start to race in your chest as he moves up your neck and you have never wanted anyone more than you want him. You think he's ruined you for anyone that could have possibly come after him. And every part of you couldn't be happier about it.

"You didn't use my soap." You whisper as Jason kisses your neck, you tilting your head to give him better access.

"Nope." Jason mutters against your skin before nipping at the base of your neck.

"Why's that?" You question, your eyes closing and you think you might suffocate under his touch. You feel him smirk against your skin, setting your entire body on fire.

"Because." Jason answers before he starts sucking a spot into your neck and he definitely does it on purpose. He likes when you smell like him.

Jason nips at the skin once more, pulling away to see the mark on your skin. And he smiles proudly to himself, before kissing the area and then kissing back to your shoulder again. You aren't sure what he's doing but you swear he could do this all night and you'd feel lucky.

Lucky is not how you have felt, ever. There have been moments where you’ve realized what you had before, with your mom, was lucky. And you realize Dick finding you was also lucky. Finding these friends was lucky. Finding Jason was lucky. But, you’ve never considered yourself a lucky person. Disaster and heartbreak seem to follow you around like a magnetic tornado. But, Jason is here and he's kissing you softly and gently and he's taking care of you and for the first time, you think you might be lucky.

Lucky to have him and deserve someone like him. You’re lucky to be here with him today and for the first time, you don't let the paranoia of something bad coming, ruin this moment. Whenever something good happens to you, something bad follows but right now, with Jason, you don't have a single thought like that. Because even with you not together, you’re lucky to have him. And you know it.

You turn around, looking up at him and Jason loves your eyes. "Let me." You whisper softly, grabbing your soap from the shelf and Jason chuckles softly, turning around.

You get some soap on your hands and start massaging it into his shoulders. Jason dips his head and he really could just evaporate into oblivion under your touch. It does something so special to him that he doesn't think he can explain. But he feels wanted and cared for. You’re careful, minding the scar on his back like he did with you and you trace over it, just like he did. And you massage some of the muscle as you rub the soap in because Jason's always too tense and his back is always filled with knots.

Jason lets out a soft groan as you work out a knot under the warm water and he doesn't know how you know to do it. He doesn't know why you do it and normally that would bother him. To not have the why. But, it's you and he doesn't need to know. Because he trusts you.

You kiss his back as you wash the soap away and Jason feels exposed again but in a way, he thinks he could live like this forever. Exposed to only you. It's not so scary when it's with you. And you can feel him relax under your touch as you smile against his skin. You can always get him to relax. And you always notice.

He'll be tense, maybe he doesn't even realize it, but then you take his hand in yours or you kiss him anywhere or you put your legs on top of his and suddenly, you see him let out a breath as if he's never been able to breathe properly in his life. And his shoulders move forward just a little and he gains this half-cocked grin, every single time.

When you started this whole thing, you knew. You knew how you felt about him because you’ve always known. And you knew he did, too. You hate conversations about feelings because it's exposing yourselves to being left bleeding wide open. It exposes you to the elements of heartache and being alone. It leaves you exposed to allowing someone else to hold the hammer that could finally shatter the last remaining pieces of your hearts. And you do enough bleeding and breaking for yourselves. But, you don't need to have the conversation because you’ve always known. Even when you want to deny it because that sometimes still seems easier than allowing each other to hold the hammer.

You slide your hands up his chest and rest your cheek against his back, hugging him softly. You feel Jason vibrate as a chuckle pulls through his lungs. He rests his hands on top of yours before picking one of them up and kissing the top of it. Jason turns around and places his hands on your hips, squeezing softly and he loves how your skin is soft compared to his hands. You offer him a gentle smile as you rest your hands on his shoulders and you love the way his shoulders feel on your hands, warm and sturdy.

"You didn't use my soap." Jason states with so much warmth you swear you'll never be cold again.

"Nope." You smile up at him.

"Why's that?" Jason dips his head closer to you.

He holds your hips like they're a lifeline to hope and happiness. And he wants to hold on forever because sometimes he needs a reason to keep holding onto hope. And you, in the middle of the chaos, offer him that hope. And he wants you, he wants this, late nights in the shower with you after patrol, cooking dinner with you, doing dishes, reading and hanging out in the library with you, today, tomorrow, and every day after that.

"Because." You whisper softly, brushing your nose against his.

Jason rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for just a second. There's this feeling in his chest, something he doesn't think he's ever felt before. It's in his chest and his stomach and seeping into every crevice of his brain. It's in his blood and bones and knees. It's warm like a campfire and thrilling. It's like lightning struck his entire body and this vibrating, burning feeling is the aftermath. He feels so happy. And instead of butterflies in his stomach, it's more like lightning bugs coming out during the first warm day of the year. Flickering with light and warmth, glowing. A reminder that the cold days are only temporary and it will be warm again. It's easy and subtle and calming. And scary and thrilling and exciting and happy. It's everything all at once. He doesn't know exactly what that feeling is, what the vibrating in his bones is or the weakness in his knees is, but he knows it feels like home with you.

You press your lips to his and it's gentle and soft. The kiss is sweet as honey and Jason pulls you impossibly close to him, your chests touching. And he wants to devour you.

You snake your hands into his wet hair, giving a light tug and Jason's hands trail to your ass, giving you a squeeze. You squeal against him and Jason chuckles against your lips. And you feel his length growing between you.

You take him into your hand, pumping him slowly and eagerly while Jason bites your bottom lip. The heat grows between your thighs as the kiss grows sloppy. Jason is heaving softly against you and his right hand snakes between the two of you, teasing your hole with a single finger. Your knees weaken with the touch and you let out a soft whimper, feelings your body desperate for more.

"Eager?" Jason chuckles hoarsely against your lips.

"So are you." You quip back, pumping just the tip as you feel precum leak onto your hand, mixing with the water. Jason lets out a groan, jerking his hips forward. "You're perfect, Jay." You whisper against his lips.

Jason’s heart booms against his ribcage as his head swims with praise. His cock twitches in your hand and the only thing he wants to do is pin you against the wall and drown right into you.

"Shit." Jason mutters as you pump him quicker, squeezing more at the tip before going back down the shaft.

Jason slides a second finger into you, you letting out another moan. His palm brushes over your clit with every pump and it’s like a bolt of electricity every single time. Your breath hitches as you feel Jason smirk against your lips. His fingers curl into you further, gaining an eclectic moan from you and he loves the way your moans sound reverberating against the walls.

"C'mere." Jason mutters pulling his hand away as you let out a whimper from the lack of contact.

Jason grabs your hips and turns you around so you’re facing the wall. Jason lines himself up with her gaping hole as you place your hands on the wall for security. Jason slides in with ease thanks to your wetness and the water spraying down on you. Jason starts pumping into you softly and then firmly. Your moans grow louder. Jason grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you up to him.

"Shh, don't want Bruce to hear." Jason's voice is graveled and you whimper, eyes rolling back.

"Jay." You let a quiet whine. "More."

There’s a snicker that falls from Jason’s throat and it’s rough and warm against your skin. Jason is nothing if not a tease in more ways than one.

Jason particularly likes these situations where he can get you to nearly beg him to fuck you. It sends his entire body into a lust-filled frenzy, taking all of his self-control not to completely lose it.

"What was that?" Jason asks, a snicker lingering in his voice.

Your voice catches in your throat, a whine falling from your lips as Jason's thrusts stall. You buck your hips back, trying to get more contact, trying desperately fill every part of you. Jason lets your hair go, gripping your hips tighter so you can’t move.

"I didn't quite hear you." He teases and you want to bite the smirk off his lips you knows he's wearing right now.

"More, Jay." You get out through gritted teeth. “Please.”

Jason chuckles, pulling out and slamming into you. "Anything for you, princess."

Jason pumps harder, fast, and deeper into your gaping hole and you can feel yourself about to unravel. Jason can feel it with the way your pussy clenches around his cock with every thrust. He reaches his hand down to circle your clit.

You let out quiet gasp before it turns into a near pornographic moan. Tears brim your eyes as the pit in your stomach grows thicker and heavier. Your body feels like it’s on fire while your hands almost try to grip the slick tile wall. Jason moves his free hand to your mouth, him still pumping eagerly into you.

“C’mon, babe,” Jason’s voice is low and raspy, hot and lust-filled. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” Jason nips your neck.

You mutter against his hand as your eyes roll back in your head, bolts of electricity ripping through your body. Your knees shake as your teeth sink into Jason’s hand. Jason lets outa hiss as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic.

He feels himself nearing his own orgasm and he quickly pulls out, spraying into the shower and down the drain. His chest heaves as he hangs his head, the high lingering around him as you turn around. You offer him a lazy and lust-blown smile. Your breathing is ragged but you do adore him with every piece of you.

Jason’s pupils nearly cover every piece of green in his eyes but there’s a delighted and tender smile on his lips. You watch his chest rise quickly, the water highlighting every raised and toned muscle on his torso. His hair sticks slick to his forehead and there’s just something about him that makes you feel alive.

"Can I wash your hair?" You ask bluntly and Jason lets out a booming laugh.

He looks back at you, brows raised. "Really?"

You shrug. "Yeah, of course. I like your hair." There’s a wide, toothy smile on your face as your eyes are hopeful and lively.

Jason shrugs one shoulder, a delicate smile pulling his lips up. "Sure." He chuckles before washing his hands under the water.

The next morning rolls around and you make sure you’re up earlier than usual, before Jason. It's his birthday today. You wanted to make sure you could grab his presents and be back in his room before he wakes up. So, you’re quiet and careful getting up and heading to your room.

You grab the wrapped presents you have hidden under your bed and then you head back to Jason's room. When you get back, he's stirring awake so you hide the presents behind your back before getting back on the bed, sitting on your knees.

"Morning," Jason says groggily but he's got this lazy and tired smile that makes you melt.

He's so confused. You’re smiling and the morning sun peaking in through the curtains is kissing your skin in just the right ways. You look so beautiful. But you are never up before he is, not when it's not because of a nightmare. Yet, here you are, smiling and beaming and he can't even imagine why.

"Good morning, happy birthday, Jay." You bounce slightly on your knees and Jason lets out a tired laugh.

"Thank you." He shakes his head, grabbing his phone from the charger and checking the time. "You woke up early for that?"

"Yes." You nod your head once and you feel the nervousness flood your veins. "It's your birthday, of course, I did."

"It's not a big deal." Jason lets out a scoff and his birthday has never been a big deal. He was lucky if anyone even remembered besides himself.

"Yeah, it is." You state confidently. "I got you some stuff." You safe softly as Jason sits up.

"You fucking got me something?" Jason questions, trying to figure out when you would have done that and how.

You give him a shy smile, reaching behind you and grabbing one of the presents. "Of course, I did." You hand it to him and it's wrapped in metallic red wrapping paper and Jason can't help but think it matches his suit. You did it on purpose.

He takes the gift softly from you and you watch him nervously, waiting to see if he likes it. Jason's heart stops as he opens a first-edition Frankenstein that's in a clear display case box. He looks to you with wide eyes and he never expected this. He doesn't own first editions. He's never asked because he's so worried he'll ruin them but you wrapped it in a box for a display. How the hell did you even know that? And he's only read it to you once and you knew it was one of his favorites.

"A first edition?" There's a softness in his voice as if he's unsure how to react.

You nod softly. "I asked Bruce for help but yeah." You reach behind you and grab the other one. "Here."

After dinner a few weeks ago, you followed Bruce into the living room to ask for help in getting Jason a few things for his birthday. You hate even having to ask but you knew nothing about getting first editions of books or money to get those first editions. But, Bruce was really nice and actually seemed happy to help.

"You didn't have to." Jason shakes his head, his grip on the case light, careful not to smudge it.

"I know but I wanted to." You shrug your shoulders softly and you think he deserves the entire world.

Jason shakes his head and opens the next present. This time, it's a first edition of Pride and Prejudice wrapped the exact same way and he just doesn't know how you knew that. How you knew these two books and also to put them into display cases. No one's ever paid such close attention to the things he likes, besides Bruce.

"Another one!?"

"I know you really like those books. You're a fast reader but I see you with Frankenstein and Pride and Prejudice often enough to know you really like them. And they're two of the books you have two copies of." You point to the corner of his room where he has his bookshelf. "Also...uh....there's more." You say with hesitance and you reach behind yourself, grabbing two thick sheets of paper and you hand them to him with shaking hands. "I made those for you."

Jason's entire face softens as he looks over the first one. It's like a scrapbook page, like what you showed him to do. But this one has what looks like torn pages from Frankenstein, his favorite exerts and quotes. There are pictures from the movie and Jason just blinks at you before moving the second one. This one is the same but for Pride and Prejudice and he is so confused but he feels so important and he can't even begin to understand it. He just doesn't know how you knew all of that about him without him ever having to tell you.

"How the fuck did you even know?" Jason's voice is breathy. "My favorite lines and shit?"

"When I saw you had two copies, I looked in them and saw you annotate one like a fucking nerd," You give him a smirk. "So, uh, I did not destroy a book. I just used Photoshop and made the book page images using your quotes and stuff you had underlined and had notes next to.” You explain, the nervousness growing in your stomach because you can't tell if he likes them or not.

"Why would you do all this?" His brows are pulled in a tight line, no smirk or grin across his face and you’re thinking maybe you overstepped.

You know you both cross the friend boundary all the time. A part of you wants to stop saying you're just friends when someone asks at this point. But, you are and you’re wondering if this was too much. But, he means the world to you and he struggles with himself. You just want him to know he's important to you, everyday.

"Because you're my favorite person." You suck in a breath. "And this is the day the earth was blessed with your insane presence." You laugh softly. "You deserve it."

"Thank you." Jason looks back to the pages and he thinks this must have taken a lot of time and planning.

He thinks this must have been something important to you to make because you don't show anyone your scrapbook stuff. But, you made this for him. He's not sentimental, but he swears he'll hold onto this for the rest of his life.

"Do you like—"

"Yeah! I fucking love it, thank you, I'm serious. I'm gonna frame these ya know?" Jason lets out a soft laugh, giving you a teasing grin.

You feel heat running over your cheeks. "I'm glad you like them, Jay."

Jason scoots closer to you and puts his hand under your chin. "Thank you." His voice is soft before he presses a kiss to your lips and you want to live here forever. His birthday might be your favorite day of the year.

"How do you remember all of this shit?" Jason pulls away, scanning your face.

"Because it's important to you." You state so casually and Jason is so shocked he can't find any words. It's as if it were the easiest sentence you ever said. "It matters to you so it matters to me."

That feeling in his chest is back. It’s coming at him in full force like a wrecking ball. Banging and pounding against every bone in his body. He’s sitting down but he swears his knees are weak and his head is foggy. His chest is on fucking fire but the only thing he feels right now is a tender and comforting type of warmth.

"Thank you." Jason pulls you into him and kisses you again and he thinks this is the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life. With you.

prev. chapter | next chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: I promise I’m getting to the angst lol But because I know what I wrote for that and what I have planned, I’m giving you guys a lot of fluff on purpose lol but I’m excited to get there which is why I’m combining chapters lol

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @anthemabby // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #jason todd x yn #petrichor #jason todd smut

188 notes · View notes