#every corner abandoned too soon

[azullumi]

a scripture on having a certain pretty gambler as your boyfriend ; aventurine

summary — radiant and gleaming, dating him feels like basking under the golden glow of the sun, with the promise of the serene and starlit night ahead.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, him as your boyfriend basically, there are no spoilers dwww, i never proofread, 1.2k words ; headcanons

note — congratulations to honkai star rail for being the only game to have aventurine!! this is day 2 of writing for this man until i have him.

Aventurine couldn’t abandon the person that he used to be so he carried him in his hands. Always hesitant, afraid, and seemingly detached from everyone he meets—this is why he seems so distant and disconnected from you at first despite being in a relationship with him. Although he lives his whole life gambling, believing that everything happens and the outcomes gained are due to luck, he’s meticulously careful and cautious just to not get too attached to you lest he gets hurt in the end (he has dealt with the sight of people’s backs as they walk away from him multiple times).

It will take time for him to completely warm up and be vulnerable to you. Although there are moments that he lets the facade slip and he lays himself bare, moments where it’s just you and him in the silence, moments where you comfort him after a nightmare that disturbs his sleep; he doesn’t ask for comfort nor assurance often but you always seem to know when he needs it.

Aventurine loves it whenever you gently comb your hand through his hair. Even if he wasn’t vocal about the matter, you’ll know from the way he immediately relaxes under your touch as you rake your fingers through his locks. It just gives him a sense of comfort, finding serenity and affection in such a small act of intimacy; it reminds him of how simple everything could be (oh, how he wishes it was) with just the loving touch of your hands.

He’s not exactly a morning person but would always wake up early, occasionally before you do. It’s either because he has to leave for work early or it just so happens that he woke up just as the sun was rising. If he has to get ready soon, he’ll take a few minutes of his time to admire you as you sleep, to trace the bridge of your nose slowly and carefully so as to not wake you, to draw and follow the outlines of your features with his eyes. But if he has no plans for today, he’ll stay in bed with you and eventually, fall asleep once more. He holds you so close and so tight (but not tight enough to suffocate you) that it’s hard to slip away from his grasp.

You feel a pair of soft lips on your forehead, the kiss lingering for a moment until you flutter your eyes open. “Are you awake now, sleepy?” 

“Mmh…” You grumble, your vision adjusts to your surroundings as you blink multiple times. You could see Aventurine getting dressed, putting on his expensive tailored-coat.

“You’re leaving already? Why did you not wake me up?”

“You looked like you were having a nice dream.”

MATCHING PAJAMAS (heck yeah!!). The time when he saw you wearing one of his pajamas, it felt like something had been flipped inside of him and the thought of getting you one for your own that matches his fills each and every corner of his mind. Although all of the matching things you have with him are not just limited to pajamas—it can range from matching jewelry, matching charms, matching clothing, matching glasses, matching everything. God, he goes into a store, sees something that he likes and asks the staff if they have another one but in a different color that you like.

Perhaps you have never noticed (or maybe you have) but he never wears his glasses whenever he’s around you—when there’s only you and him. There was no need to hide anything from you, not when you adore all parts of his being. He melts whenever you compliment him (he’s a sucker for such words of affection) especially when it’s his eyes, loves the way you look at him as if he was everything you wish for.

He’ll often play games with you or initiate a bet but somehow, he has more losses than wins. “You’re cheating!” You’ll say, pointing at him as if you were an attorney from a game that objects to a statement. Aventurine, however, would stare at you in disbelief (though he’s just feigning innocence) and would answer with a raised eyebrow: “How am I the one cheating when you’re winning?” To which you’ll respond with: “That’s because you’re letting me win. You’re not playing fair, Aven.”

SPOILS YOU A LOT and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. Everything you'll ask for or even just mention in passing, he'll provide. He randomly sends you pockets of money, a notification on your phone lighting up your screen and the text says: You have received 100, 000 credits. You have to get used to it—it’s one of the ways that he shows his affection to you. He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer whenever he gives you something either, so, you have to take it or else you’ll have to deal with a sulky man the whole day. 

Don’t worry though as he ensures that everything that he buys and gets for you is something you would like—expensive meaningless gifts will always be meaningless, he would rather give you a cheap yet beautiful charm that is of your favorite color or flower than an expensive shiny necklace made out of gold and adorned with diamonds which you’ll never wear because it’s too heavy on your neck or it’s not your preference.

On that note, he also likes seeing you wear the things he bought for you. Maybe it’s obvious, maybe it’s not, but he likes to dress you up, likes to see you put on the clothes he picks for you. Dates where he brings you to a boutique to pick clothes together (for both you and him), dress up, and ask each other if they look good is not so rare between you two. It’s silly but the two of you would end up giggling like children when the other would strike a ridiculous pose to show off what they're wearing (and also, with the intention to make one another laugh); he lives for and craves these moments with you.

Brings you together with him to casinos and lets you watch him while he plays as he regards you as his lucky charm (when he’s actually the one who is lucky here). Whenever he wins a game or a bet, he asks for a kiss from you—he taps on his cheek as an indication of his request but he will not force you if you don’t wish to express such affections in public, rather he’ll ask for something else instead like maybe a smile or ask that you hold his hand. Sometimes, if you’re curious enough, he’ll teach you the fundamentals of the game and what you can do to win. The look of pride on his face says it all as he watches you win and your opponent falls to the floor (you just put someone in debt).

The amount of endearing names that he calls you. If ever you get flustered whenever he calls you with those affectionate endearments, he’ll take the chance to tease you, to repeatedly call you with such names until you throw a pillow or any object at him—he catches it though but will apologize while laughing, saying that he won’t do it again.

You have to be understanding and gentle with him, careful as you tread the light, lest you fall into the dark and see that the tall and strong walls he built around himself is nothing compared to the broken and fragile pieces that are sewn on his skin, and he will leave (out of fear, out of anxiety, out of grief, out of self-hatred). But it’s alright, everything will be, you’ll embrace him even in the abyss and you’ll guide him back to your warmth.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your complexion is flushed and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep. 

[lovemomhatepolice]

inCHident - charles leclerc

navigation taglist requests

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: drunk! reader and Kelly, English is my second language!

type: fluff (funny? i hope so)

word count: 1k

summary: there is nothing funnier than you and your good friend Kelly Piquet, with whom you imitate your partners after alcohol and their famous action of 11 years ago...

more content: formula 1 masterlist, charles leclerc masterlist, max verstappen masterlist

“You know what?” You laughed, uncertainly walking down the stairs hand in hand with your boyfriend Charles.

“I'm listening to you, baby,” the man replied, holding you carefully by the elbow and waist.

Your head was spinning. The amount of alcohol on that day probably overcame you too much, or at least at that moment. Partying with Formula One drivers after races was something you loved. That atmosphere, that closeness of everyone together, the successful partying… well, and your beloved girls who proudly stood by their boyfriends as you did.

“You're a good boy,” you grinned, squeezing his hand. “Really, I've never had a better one in my life.”

Charles giggled under his breath, well aware of your condition. Ay, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you in it, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

“Well, in that case I'm glad,” he replied, helping you up the last flight of stairs at Max and Kelly's temporary lodging for this trip.

That's where the two of you held your after-party after a good partying at the club. You didn't often do this, as mostly everyone was already tired after the fun at the first place, but today quite a few of you still had a lot of energy in you and you definitely couldn't let it go.

“But really Charles.” you said, stopping in front of the stairs.

You were then standing in a place somewhat isolated from the room where all the rest who had come with you were sitting. They were not all drivers, on the contrary, you ended up with about ten people. The rest simply let go of further fun and either returned by plane to their homes or to their hotel rooms.

That's why hardly anyone could catch the fact that you managed the “bathroom” task, which earlier caused a lot of laughter. Leclerc just didn't want to let you go up the stairs alone, and heck knows - you could still fall down them in those heels.

“Really what?” he laughed, grabbing you by the waist the moment you threw your arms around his neck.

“You really are a good boyfriend. If it wasn't for you, I probably would have peed there, it was a must,” you whispered in his ear as if it were a secret, which brought a smile to his face.

“Mhm” he muttered, stroking your hips through the thin material of your dress.

You moved closer to him and kissed him lightly, grinning into his mouth at the same time. However, you were soon interrupted by a shout from Kelly, who, unbeknownst to you, suddenly jumped out from around the corner.

“[Y.N] I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN A LONG TIME!!!”.

You quickly turned around, abandoning your boyfriend's embrace, and threw yourself into the arms of the brunette, who stood behind you with her arms spread out. The hallway was filled with your squeals.

“Kelly, how I love you! You are so beautiful today, what am I saying? You are beautiful every day,” you replied, giggling.

You and the girl moved towards the living room and sat close to each other on the couch. Charles moved behind you, however, sat on the armchair next to you. He was well aware that he didn't even have a lift at that moment, when you continued to be giggling and in each other's embrace.

Everyone in the room was listening to some story by Lando, who was telling it with great passion, but you were in your own world. You whispered something in each other's ear, burst out laughing afterwards, paid each other compliments, and much more. It did not even cross your mind that Max was not in the room. You only found out when he entered the living room in a down jacket and looked at you and Kelly with a surprised look.

“Max, what happened?” asked Oscar, giggling under his breath at the sight of Verstappen.

Max shrugged off his jacket, depositing it on the couch behind you, making the brunette hiss from the touch of cold on her warm skin.

“I thought she went out...” the man began, but was not given the chance to finish, as he was interrupted by his girlfriend.

“NO, HE'S JUST UNFAIR,” she began to say loudly, grabbing your hand, which you quickly picked up on. You loved to laugh at your boyfriends. "I'm leading, he want to pass, he push me, I push him back and after he push me off the track. JUST NOT FAIR"

"Thank you, thank you Max" you replied, pretending to hold the microphone.

A volley of laughter went throughout the living room, and you could feel Lando's phone pulled out on you, which was most likely recording you, but you didn't pay much remark to it. So did Charles, who measured you with his eyes as intensely as Max did.

Kelly rose on the couch, catching in her hand the remote control that lay on the coffee table, and pressed it to her lips, sitting cross-legged. The girl tilted her head toward you and raised her eyebrows slightly, lending authenticity to the “interview.”

“Charles. What's happend with emm Max?" She asked and put the remote control to your lips, encouraging you to use it, like a real microphone.

You looked at Max, who was standing behind his girlfriend with a disbelieving face, and burst out laughing, but quickly stepped into your role again and put on a serious face. Just like fifteen-year-old Charles, giving an interview at the time.

"Nothing, just an inCHident... on the race" You replied, shaking your head in a familiar way.

“I think I just cried,” replied Lando, choking back his own laughter and wiping away the tears that really did trickle from his eyes.

Everyone in the living room laughed, including you and Kelly. Well, okay, maybe not everyone. Max and Charles looked at each other in disbelief, time and again shifting their gaze to you.

“I can't believe it's been twelve years and people continue to remind us of this,” muttered Charles, trying to break through the loud laughter and applause in the room.

All he got in response was a pat on the shoulder from Max, who took the seat next to him, and they both looked at the rest of their friends, wondering where in their lives they had gone wrong that they had chosen such people...

A/N: please do not copy or translate my work! if you have any issues regarding this please contact me in the messages :)

I hope it brought at least a slight smile to your face. AND what more can I say? happy (but belated) inCHIdent anniversary!

[alastorss]

HIIII so i had an idea for like a reader that's crushing on alastor, and angel dust making jokes about it in front of alastor and basically what would happen once he catches on

Have a lovely day, get good sleep!!!<33 luv ur writing<33

a/n: hello sweets <3 thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has watched you splash your martini all over Angel's face so many times this week, he's almost certain the star is provoking you on purpose just for a free drink.

In the short time he's come to know him, he's learned that if there's one thing Angel Dust is good at—besides looking pretty on film—it's that he can be absolutely shameless.

Alastor remembers, with a twinge of disgust, that the spider had once told him he came with built in reins. That comment kept him seething for hours.

And now, poor you, having fallen into the trap of his intricate web—the Radio Demon would be laughing if he didn't actually feel slightly bad for you. He knows what it's like to be on the receiving end of those comments, after all.

You, unlike your four-armed friend, have a capacity for shame the likes of which have never been seen before. All hot cheeks and wide eyes, lips pulled into a straight, thin line—embarrassment burns in every corner of your expression.

Though, that's probably why Angel has taken such a liking to teasing you.

Here he is again, crawling over the bar to get into your face as soon as Alastor appears in the room. His voice is low and melodic, so quiet the Overlord can't quite make out the words until—

"Look, hun. Your prince charming!"

Alastor raises a brow as he takes his seat next to you at the bar, setting down his newspaper.

"What was that?" He asks, eyes flickering between you and a coy-looking Angel Dust.

"Oh, nothin'. That right, sugar?"

You look nothing but utterly defeated, martini forgotten and abandoned. "Angel..." you mutter in warning. The spider only shrugs and gives you a toothy little grin.

"Hey Smiles," Angel suddenly grabs you by the cheeks and turns your face to look in Alastor's direction. You only blink at each other in surprise. "Cute, eh?"

You quickly smack his hand away from you, swivelling around to glare. "Quit it!"

Angel puts his hands up in mock surrender. He huffs, backing off. "Okay, okay! Fine! You two are unbelievable."

With that, he stalks off to bother Husk instead. You sigh in relief, head hitting the bar counter. For a moment, you completely forget that Alastor is still sitting beside you.

"Care to explain?"

He watches as you nearly jolt out of your skin, amused at how flustered you are from a little teasing. It's rather cute.

"It's nothing!" You sputter, waving your arms around in panic.

But you can't fool Alastor. Not anymore.

It hadn't clicked before—that perhaps there was some merit behind Angel Dust's words. He had gotten so used to empty threats of sexual advances that he had ruled out the possibility that the star was being a little serious for once.

He wasn't exactly subtle, always jumping on the opportunity to make your cheeks burn whenever the Radio Demon was around.

"It didn't sound like nothing," he sings, leaning in closer to you so he can gauge your reaction.

As expected, you nearly leap away from him when he suddenly invades your personal space. He snickers.

"Not you too..." you groan.

"Why, I didn't know you had such a crush on me, darling~"

"You're the worst."

"Ah, and I suppose that's why our dear friend has been teasing you about me all this time? Because I'm the worst, and you hate me?"

He's getting entirely too close. His face is nearly touching yours.

You stare at him in bewilderment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, you manage to stammer out a weak retort.

"You should butt out of other people's business."

"It sounds like it's about to be my business, dear. You know, if you liked me so much, you could have just told me instead of Angel Dust."

"I preferred it when you were just a regular asshole, and not a cocky one!"

"Oh, how you wound me~"

"Shut up!"

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda

[aquaticmercy]

The Great Wave

Summary : Bucky would do anything to make his girl happy. He would even risk his life to get you the perfect gift.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : fluff. A bit of violence. Established relationship. Bucky is just so in love???

Requested by : myself (I have a couple ideas I have to burn before I move on to the requests. I will get to them soon, I promise!)

Word count : 2.1k

Note : Reader is an art enthusiast for the sake of the plot. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky had always been good at listening, even when you didn’t realise you were saying something important. He’d tune in while you rambled about your day, his eyes softening when you went on and on about something that made you happy. That was how he came to understand just how much you adored art. Lately, your latest obsession was art prints. One of them, in particular. 

The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

It started with your subtle mentions, then turned into hours of research and giddy excitement as you told Bucky about its significance in art history. “It’s not just the wave, Bucky,” you’d try to explain, “it’s the effort. Woodblock print artists had to carve wooden blocks one by one, for each colour used. The precision, the patience this requires is incredible.” you’d say, eyes wide with passion. “The focus is actually on Mount Fuji, which was a personal spiritual obsession of the artist— Hokusai. He was like the Beyoncé of the Edo period.” 

Bucky, ever the silent, brooding observer, stored every detail away in his mind. 

You had admired the prints in museums, dragging Bucky there with you. Once, when you had visited a small art gallery, you had found a reproduction of it. Bucky remembered how your fingers lightly touched the frame, lingering a little longer than normal. He also remembered how you mentioned that it would make a good birthday gift.

Bucky knew he had to do something about that. In fact, Bucky knew he could do better. 

—

For the past six months, he had been looking for something so rare that it almost seemed impossible to acquire. But if anyone could help him get hands on something like that, it was Sharon Carter. 

It had taken months of planning— months of digging into Sharon’s shady art dealings, but she finally tracked one down.

Bucky had burned through a few old contacts just to arrange this. The Dealer he had found had one of only 100 copies that still existed.

Bucky now stood at the edge of the alley, his eyes scanning the dimly lit streets of Madripoor. He hated this place. The stench of greed and violence clouded every corner. Truly lawless. But for you, he’d walk through these dingy streets any day.

Sharon leaned against the wall beside him, her arms crossed. “You sure you want to go through all this trouble?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Of course,” Bucky replied dismissively. His tone was resolute.

“You’ve gone soft, Barnes,” Sharon smiled. “Risking your neck for a gift.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, glancing at the old brown purse tucked in his jacket. Inside it was more than enough money to secure the deal, but in Madripoor, cash only got you so far. 

Briefly, his thoughts wandered back to you. Was this really worth it? Was he risking too much? You had been on his mind constantly these past few months. He has thought more and more about what you have done for him. Of how you had stood by him, as he tried to piece the puzzles of his mind back together. You’ve been a constant comfort in his life, a rock for him.

And he knew your love wasn’t transactional, and he had no intention to make it that way, either. He just wanted to do something nice. That smile... He’d do anything to see it.

But Madripoor was a different world. A dangerous one. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. Bucky shot Sharon a sidelong glance as they neared the abandoned warehouse. “I don’t trust this guy,” he muttered.

Sharon gave a knowing look. “That’s why I’m here.” She patted the concealed gun under her jacket.

There was no going back now.

—

They walked into the abandoned warehouse. The Dealer was supposed to meet them here. The place reeked of decay, with crates stacked against the walls carelessly and dust particles drifting in the air.

Not long after, a door creaked open on the other side of the warehouse. 

A tall, wiry man stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in a sharp suit that looked entirely out of place in the decrepit building. Two bodyguards in tactical suits followed close behind him, both armed. 

“We’re here for the print,” Sharon said, her voice calm and collected. 

The Dealer smiled, but it wasn’t sincere. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, the infamous Sharon Carter. I’ve heard much about you.”

“Do you have the print or not?” Sharon snapped. 

The Dealer gestured to one of his bodyguards. He stepped forward with a slim black case and opened it to reveal the print, meticulously preserved under layers of protective glass. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he forgot where he was, only imagining the smile you’d have on your face when you do get to see it. 

Bucky’s grip tightened on the purse as he handed it over to the dealer. 

“There’s one more thing,” the dealer said as his tone shifted, shutting the briefcase shut. “I hear Sharon Carter here has been causing a bit of trouble for some of my associates. So… I’m thinking you’re going to have to do me a favour before I hand this over.”

“We had a deal.” Bucky’s eyes darkened. He knew Sharon had a reputation in Madripoor—one she didn’t need to remind people of often.

But the dealer just smiled an arrogant grin, one that made Bucky’s gut churn. “Deals change.”

Bucky could feel the tension in the air rising. He knew this wasn’t going to end peacefully. He noticed the subtle shift in the bodyguards’ stance, their hands starting to reach toward their guns.

“I don’t have time for this,” Bucky muttered, knowing he promised you he’d be home before tomorrow. Reaching for his gun, he shot near the handle of the briefcase, just shy of The Dealer’s grip.

That was all it took for the room to explode into chaos.

When another gunshot rang out, Bucky dove for cover behind one of the crates as bullets rained on him. Sharon shot at one of the bodyguards, taking him down with a well-placed shot to the leg.

As the deafening echo of gunfire bounced off the walls, a thought crossed his mind: Why am I doing this?

As bullet whizzed past, his mind kept going back to you. The way you looked at the print in the gallery, the way you spoke about it with such passion. He found himself chuckling at how far he’d go to make you happy.

Would you even believe it if he told you what he’s done to get this for you?

The Dealer ducked behind his own men, the briefcase in his death grip. Bucky rolled out from behind the crate. He returned fire, his shots precise. He didn't aim to kill them— he didn’t do that anymore— but enough to incapacitate them. The remaining bodyguard dropped to the ground with a grunt, clutching his wound as one of Bucky’s bullets grazed his arm. For a moment, the gunfire stopped.

Bucky straightened up, his eyes locking on The Dealer, who was now cowering near the far wall. He stormed in his direction. “Give me the print, or the next one’s between your eyes,” Bucky growled, his voice deadly calm. He didn’t mean it, of course, but The Dealer didn’t need to know that. 

The Dealer raised his hands, his face pale. “Alright, alright! Take it!”

Sharon wasted no time, snatching the case with the print from the ground and tucking it under her arm. Bucky threw the purse against The Dealer’s chest. He kept his gun pointed towards him as they backed toward the door, carefully watching for any sign of movement.

Print secured, Bucky and Sharon slipped out of the warehouse, moving swiftly through the dark Madripoor alleys. The adrenaline still flowed in Bucky’s veins, but when he glanced at the case in Sharon’s arms, he felt a surge of relief.

They had done it. The print was his. Yours.

—

You came through the front door, tired but smiling. “Buck, you home?” you called out, taking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the side table. He had been away for the last couple of days. For a mission, he had said, though he had been vague. He was supposed to be home today.

“In here,” came his reply from the living room. There was a slight edge to his voice— like he was holding something back in anticipation.

You walked into the living room only to stop dead in your tracks. 

Bucky stood there with a sleeveless shirt, placing a screwdriver on the table next to him. The print was hanging on the wall, illuminated by the soft glow of newly installed lamps around it. The familiar sight of the wave crashing down with unrelenting power, the grounding calm Mount Fuji in the background made your heart skip a beat.

You've spent so much of your spare time studying it, that you know this wasn’t just a print. It was one of the prints.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes widening as you took slow steps closer to it. You were almost afraid it would crumble before your very eyes if you got too close.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “This… this can’t be real.”

Bucky stepped up beside you, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “It is,” he confirmed. 

You took another slow step forward, eyes still locked on the print. How did he do this?

Your mind raced back to the past few weeks, remembering the subtle changes in Bucky’s behaviour—how he’d been more secretive, how he’d mentioned that mission but never gave you any real details. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, assuming it was just another dangerous job, but now it all made sense.

This wasn’t just a print hanging on the wall. This was weeks—maybe months—of effort. Planning. Risking his life in ways he probably would never tell you about. 

“Bucky… this is—this is one of the original prints.” You eyed the certificate of authenticity on the table by where he was standing.”This is—oh my God—why—how did you even get this?”

He shrugged, his lips forming a small smile. “Had to pull a few strings. Nothing too crazy. Had help from Sharon, too.”

You looked at him like you didn’t quite believe him, but the joy in your eyes made every bullet dodged, every shady deal, worth it. 

He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but the way his lips curved up in a knowing smile told you otherwise. “You’ve been talking about getting a print for so long,” he said. 

Your heart swelled at the thought, imagining the sheer effort he had gone through just to get this for you. “Are you insane, Buck? I asked for a reproduction print, maybe. but this…”

You still couldn’t quite believe it. You knew how rare this print was, how impossible it was to find, and yet… here it was. Hanging in your living room. For you.

You turned to face him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just want to make my girl happy,” he said, his voice as soft and sincere as it has ever been. 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in a bear hug. “You make me happy, you know that, right?”

Bucky’s smile widened just a little, his metal arm resting on the small of your back. “I know,” he murmured. 

You wiped the hint of a happy tear on your eyes as you turned back to the print, taking it in once more. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met,” you said, “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I think we both are.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, shifting behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, his chin resting gently on your shoulder. The two of you stood there, side by side, gazing at the artwork. The warmth of his body against yours felt grounding, comforting.

“So…” he murmured, his breath soft against your neck, “now that you’ve got your Great Wave, what’s next? Starry Night?”

You laughed, scoffing at the thought of owning a Van Gogh. That would never happen, right? “I think I’ve got enough rare art for a lifetime.”

He grinned. “All you have to do is ask.”

You smiled, turning your head to look at him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips met yours in the softest, most delicate kiss.

The Great Wave may be hanging on the wall in front of you, but to you, the true masterpiece— the one that truly mattered— was the man you loved.

-end

[ak319]

Lovesick bubbly hubby x fem reader

ミ☆Headcanon#3𓏲

(Warnings: Contains mpreg (bxg pairing, YES, boy x fem reader), and matriarchal themes/gender role reverse so don't interact if you are not comfortable!! ‎♡‧₊˚)

♥︎ Headcanon #2

🍭"Narin, just one more paragraph, c'mon. Then we can go get some ice cream."

"You know, you're the cruellest wife anyone could have. Making me do assignments in this condition."

"What condition? You're fine, Narin. You're not even the one typing your essay. Just one more paragraph, c'mon, you can do it." He acts as if he's in his last months, when he’s only three weeks in. After another exaggerated sigh, he finally gave in, and you closed the laptop with relief.

"It's your last semester. Just get it done, and then your lifelong dream of staying home will come true."

"Are you taking me out for that ice cream or not?" You chuckled, getting up and offering him a hand. "Let's go."

Narin finally got what he wanted after so long, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to pull him out of university. Still, the thought of becoming a father—of your child—filled him with uncontrollable excitement. He just prayed that your family wouldn’t cast an evil eye on the baby. Hmph! Lost in thought, he unconsciously placed his hands over his stomach as you drove, unaware of the silent storm brewing within him.

Meanwhile, your mind was all over the place. First, an unexpected husband, and now a child on the way?! You couldn't stop worrying about the future. You never imagined yourself as a mother, especially not with a husband like Narin, who could barely take care of himself. Maybe he would mature once the baby was born... or would you just have two kids to look after instead? How did this even happen? Weren’t you both careful? Wasn’t he taking pills, too? Well, it didn’t matter now. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him, hands protectively resting on his stomach, looking content and as happy as ever. You sighed and decided to put on some music to drown out the spiralling thoughts. Soon enough, you both reached the ice cream shop.

Months passed, and Narin’s university days came to an end. It had been three months into his pregnancy when one day, you came home to find him curled up on the sofa with Prince. There was no usual excitement, no running up to greet you like he always did.

🍭"Narin? You okay? Is something wrong?" By now, the panic in your voice was impossible to hide. You gently made him sit up, cupping his face, and your heart sank as you saw his puffy, red eyes. He was still sniffling, avoiding your gaze, his usual brightness nowhere to be found.

"Narin? You're making me worried. Tell me, what's wrong, baby?"

"I-just-what if you... leave me?! Does your family think I'm not competent enough to bear your child?! Because I feel like it!" His voice cracked with emotion, and you could hear the frustration in every word. Where was all this anger coming from?

"What are you talking about? Who said that?! And why on earth would I leave you?" You could feel your own heart racing. Narin might be childish and immature at times, but he was still your husband, and you cared for him deeply even more so now. Why couldn’t he see that?

"I would never abandon you. Never, you or our child."

"What if it’s a boy? Like me?!" His voice trembled with insecurity, his eyes wide with fear. It was clear the pregnancy hormones were heightening all his worries. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm. He needed your reassurance more than ever now.

"Then we’ll love him just the same, Narin. Just like I love you." He finally looked into your eyes.

"Listen, Narin baby. You’re very, very important to me. I love you and our future child, no matter if they’re a boy or a girl. I just want you both to be healthy, and my family wants the same. No one is doubting you, and if they are--just tell me their name. I’ll have a talk with them myself. Now, tell me, did someone say anything to you?"

He shook his head sincerely.

"Then?" you asked gently, stroking his hair.

"I... just had these thoughts..." he whispered, voice trembling slightly. He grasped your collar tightly, his body now almost in your lap. "You won’t leave, right?"

"Never." You held him closer, your voice firm with reassurance, and yet he needed more. He needed to drown in that reassurance, to feel it in every part of his being. You held him tighter, but it still didn’t feel close enough. "And don’t let these thoughts ruin your mood or stress you out. You hear me? Promise me, you won’t."

He nodded, but this time he clung to you like a lifeline, his fingers tightening in your shirt. "Promise," he whispered, his heart racing. He knew that you were not going to leave him but he just wanted to make sure and...was bored. Damn, he can be a really good actor if he wants to but in all seriousness, it's important to remind you that he is now your everything, your new family. In his head, there was no room for doubt. You belonged to him, and no one else could ever come between you two.... and now three of you. Not now, not ever.

In his eyes, the most delightful thing is making you run for whatever he craves, even if it’s the middle of the night or a drive to another town just to get a snack he tried once. He revels in the fact that you’ll do anything for him, and he takes immense pride in bragging about how caring and romantic his wife is. He squeals with childlike excitement when you’re out fulfilling his whims, loving how dreamy and devoted you are.

But lately, there’s a shadow of sadness in his eyes as he watches you work harder than ever. You’ve started a new venture with your friend, and it’s consuming more of your time and energy.

🍭"You should take a break now," he said, plopping down next to you on the couch and peering over your shoulder at your laptop. His tone was light, but there was an edge of concern beneath his playful words. "I don’t want to be a widower in this condition." You jerked your head towards him in shock at his bluntness. It was classic Narin--his naive habit of saying whatever came to mind without fully thinking it through. You just sighed, shaking your head at his antics.

"I’m not dying here, you don’t have to worry. I’ll be done in a few minutes."

"Why are you even doing this?! Isn’t your salary enough-"

"No, it’s not enough. Certainly not for the future when the kid is going to grow up and go to school and stuff." Narin grumbled, leaning his head against your chest with a sigh. He was like a needy kitten, wanting your comfort and attention, and the warmth of your chest made him feel a little safer. 'As disciplined and farsighted as ever. So fucking hot.' Well, he is kind of glad too, now that you are working so much, you rarely have time to visit your own family. Hehe. That's right wifey, work for me and your child now, our child.

"Yeah, you’re right. And also, it’s not like we’re going to have only one, right? I was a single child, so I want more than one kid. Got it?" Your hands paused momentarily over the keyboard.

"Um--yeah, but focus on this one for now..." Narin’s smile widened as he traced his finger lightly across your chest. "Oki! Our kids are going to be the prettiest and the smartest!"

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, even as worries about the future tugged at the edges of your thoughts. "Of course," you replied softly, placing a gentle kiss on his crown before returning to your work. In that moment, the presence of each other made the stress feel a little more bearable.

@mel-vaz 🍭

[6esiree]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

One, two, three, four… that’s how many times you tentatively pressed your lips against Alastor’s cheek until he finally stirred awake. It was late—about 3 AM, give or take—but you just couldn’t sleep, not after he took you out to watch a particularly frightening film earlier in celebration of Halloween. And with it being the witching hour, every creak, every groan, and every meager noise that resounded throughout the aging house your dear husband inherited from his departed mother made you all the less willing to close your eyes.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?” Alastor eventually rasped, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched his pupils dilate to adjust to the darkness, but he couldn’t see all that well anyway. “Can’t sleep, I presume?”

With an abashed nod, you shuffled closer to him, tossing your arms around his waist and bringing your bodies flush together, your cold nose pressing against the hollow of his throat. He returned your embrace almost instinctively, his knee nestling in the space between your legs as his hands traveled past your nightgown without an ounce of shame. But it was perfect—the way he firmly squeezed your hips and melded to your smaller frame with his larger one like a puzzle piece. He was perfect.

Or so that’s what you thought.

“Pray tell, how could you allow some…” Alastor murmured into your hair, slender fingers delicately tracing the fine curvature of your body, moving up and up and up… till they arrived at the supple flesh beneath your breasts, “…silly little phobia to keep you awake?”

Your eyes fluttered shut with a breathy sigh, nails haphazardly raking up his sides in response to the tantalizing manner in which he thumbed at one of your nipples. His other hand slid up the back of your neck, grasping a handful of your hair and pulling your head back ever so gently. Unbelievable—he tutted, and you would have felt even more embarrassed if he hadn’t nipped at the column of your throat… or made his arousal known to you, his hardening erection bumping against your clit oh-so perfectly.

One, two, three, four… that’s how many times Alastor nipped at you, his teeth leaving tiny bruises on your skin almost in revenge for rising him from such a peaceful slumber. And even though he thought your reason to be rather childish in nature, he wouldn’t allow you to suffer for any longer than you already had; so he pushed you down onto the mattress, a hand dipping into your panties with the intention of melting away the fear in your bones. Your lips parted in gratification—much like your legs did—hole fluttering at the delicate press of his fingers.

“It’s more of a fear of the unknown,” You admitted with a sheepishness that had Alastor chuckling, but only for a moment, his attention quickly stolen by the sticky sound of his fingers circulating your clit. “Not… knowing what… malevolent being may be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the—ha—perfect opportunity to strike.”

Hmph—that was the only thing he was able to muster as he picked up the pace; and while he couldn’t see you all that well, he could feel your cunt flutter, and he could hear the sheets rustle with every twist and turn of your body. But before you could come undone at a meager rubbing, he abandoned your clit and trailed his slick-drenched fingers down your folds, pushing past them and into your neglected hole, eliciting a pleasured cry from you. A deep groan reverberated throughout his chest as your walls swallowed three of his fingers—and so effortlessly, too.

“Hand me my glasses, won’t you?” As soon as those words left Alastor’s mouth, you stretched an arm towards the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Anyway, there are more things that are worth fearing in this world, sweetheart. Not some invisible force such as a spirit.”

“Like the Bayou Butcher?” You innocently asked between bouts of pants, your hand desperately searching for his glasses in the darkness… all while his hand searched for that velvety spot in your walls that had you coming undone in no time. “I don’t want to end up in a gator’s stomach.”

“I suppose,” Alastor responded rather curtly, but you were far too lost in your pleasure to take notice of that, “Although, I wouldn’t fear them either,” He continued, the truth almost tumbling from his lips, “So long as I live, you don’t have to worry about a gruesome demise befalling you.”

At least that little bit he added towards the end was truthful, but because you didn’t know that, you chose to shrug it off. Your husband was a hunter, and you vividly recalled the way he effortlessly took down a stag with a singular bullet as you finally located his glasses, including the unrelenting strength he had in his muscles to carry it back on the way home. Still, you refused to believe he could keep you safe from a literal serial killer, the same one that had been tormenting New Orleans for quite some time already.

Alastor knew by the slow and tentative nod of your head as he put on his glasses that you doubted him, but he couldn’t do anything else to prove himself. So, he curled his fingers and assaulted that spot in your walls with a feverishness that had you writhing and moaning almost instantaneously, his palm moving against your swollen clit. He loomed over you almost menacingly as he fucked you with his hand, watching your back delicately arch up towards him, your hardened nipples peaking through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

But the squelching from your cunt… oh, that was what made Alastor’s self-control snap. He pulled his hand out of you before you could finish, and you would have whined at the loss if he hadn’t pulled down his pajama pants so hastily, the sound of his weeping cock smacking against his toned stomach making your hole flutter with anticipation rather than disappointment. But as he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your slick-drenched panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cool air, he leaned in and nosed at your shoulder with a few more words.

“I meant what I said,” His lips moved against you as he grasped the flesh of your hip with one hand, the other moving the head of his cock up and down your folds, lathering himself with your wetness. “If I can kill a stag, I can definitely kill a man… “ He continued, finally pushing into you, your face falling into the pillow with a gratified moan, “…to ensure your safety, of course.”

Your dear husband would kill a man to ensure your safety, how… nice, you thought, communicating your appreciation by pushing your hips back with a nod that was much more firm and reassuring. A deep groan caressed your ear as you forced Alastor to bottom out, his cock kissing your cervix; and while he was well aware of the fact that you didn’t doubt him any less, he held onto you with a force that would surely leave bruises come morning, pulling his cock completely out of you before slamming back into you.

And he repeated this over and over again, unconsciously taking his frustration out on your poor cunt—for waking him up over some silly little fear of ghosts, and for especially doubting his ability to take a human being’s life. However, he supposed that you would eventually find out the harrowing truth behind his late-night shifts at the radio station as he reached down to rub at your swollen clit, encouraging you to come undone alongside him. And you did, your walls clamping down around him with a long whine.

“No more horror films from now on, you hear me?” Alastor stated as he went to plant a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his cock pulsating inside of your fluttering walls, but you swiftly turned your head to the side and captured his lips. “Oh, you cheeky little thing,” He murmured, whatever frustration he previously felt completely forgotten.

[fear-is-truth]

yearn ── tate langdon x f!reader.

NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ TAGS: sexual content ・ fem!reader ・subby!tate ・ unprotected p in v・ english is not my first language so bear with me・not proofread

It had been two agonising weeks since you left the Murder House. Fourteen fucking days of suffocating silence that your absence carved into every corner. Tate had spent decades watching new residents come and go, meeting their untimely ends within these walls, never giving a rat’s ass about them. But you—you had become the one thing that made his endless days of death and monotony feel bearable. You made him feel alive in a place full of ghosts.

But this time, something felt wrong. It wasn’t like you had just gone to school or the store, slipping away for a few hours with the promise of coming back. No, this time, you’d left for summer camp — two whole weeks of being out there in the world, away from him. You said it would fly by, that it was nothing, but to Tate, it felt like an eternity. And deep down, a gnawing fear clawed at his gut: what if you didn’t want to come back? What if you met someone?

The first few days, he convinced himself you’d be back in no time. He tried to stay calm, tried to hold it together. But the more time passed, the more restless he became. You were out there, in the world, alive, and he was trapped here — unable to leave, unable to follow you.

Every night, he replayed your last conversation in his mind. You had kissed him goodbye, a quick peck on the lips, so casual. “I’ll be back soon,” you had promised. But Tate remembered the way your lips lingered a little longer than usual, the way your fingers trembled just slightly when you pulled away.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. He spent most of them in your room, staring vacantly at the ceiling, trying not to do something more “stimulating” than jerking off and crying — for instance killing the electrician your parents had hired. The bedsheets still smelled like you — faint, but enough to drive him insane. He buried his face in your pillow more times than he’d care to admit.

Now, you were finally coming back.

When the front door creaked open that evening, Tate was waiting at the bottom of the staircase. The second you stepped in, a little tired but smiling, duffel bag slung over your shoulder. The sight of you — finally back in the house, finally back with him — made something snap inside him.

“Hey, I’m—”

You barely had time to finish your sentence before Tate closed the distance between you in seconds, crashing his lips against yours. His hands were on you instantly, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips were rough, almost bruising, as if he was trying to make up for every second you were gone. You moaned into his mouth, surprised by the desperation but didn’t pull away.

You missed him too.

“Don’t… don’t ever leave me again,”

Tate mumbled between frantic kisses, his breath was hot against your skin. “I can’t… I need you here. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’m here now, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your hand tangling in his messy blonde curls. You stumbled backward as he guided you up the stairs, not bothering to slow down. His hands were all over you, tracing your sides, your hips, anywhere he could reach. It wasn’t just physical — it was emotional. The pent-up frustration of your absence, the loneliness, the abandonment — it was all boiling to the surface.

When you reached your room, Tate practically kicked the door shut behind him, fingers tugging at your backpack before tossing it to the floor.

“Tate…” you breathed out, but he was already kissing down your neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks. You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer. The way his erection pressed against your hip stirred something inside you. You pushed him onto the bed before straddling him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him as he leaned back.

“I missed you,” you reaching down to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch, blinking at you before you pressed your lips against his again. Now that you were in control, the kiss was slower, languid.

“You have no idea…” he groaned thickly between kisses, “How long I’ve been waiting for this. I can’t… fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I’m not leaving again,” you pulled your t-shirt over your head, before reaching back to unclasp your bra. Eagerly, Tate latched his mouth on your nipple and sucked, enough to make you gasp, but you didn’t stop him. The pain mixed with the pleasure in a way that made you feel dizzy and lightheaded.

Bunching up your skirt and wiggling your hips enticingly, you reached down to wrap your fingers around his member, giving him a few firm pumps before before slowly sinking down onto him, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“F-fuck…” he croaked, eyes fluttering shut.

Placing a hand on either side of his face, you kissed him hard. Licking at the seam of his lips, tongue probing his mouth. Your hips began to gyrate, finding a pace that had you both grunting in pleasure. Tate’s hands rested on your waist and began meeting you thrust for thrust from below.

You threw your head back, pornographic moans escaping your lips each time he hit that sweet spot. The room filled with the sounds of the slap of skin on skin, the sharp intakes of breath, and the wet suction of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, occasionally punctuated by your combined grunts.

Finally, blissfully, the hot coil snapped. Your orgasm tore through you, inner walls convulsing around his cock. Tate followed moments later, his load spurting into you, triggering aftershocks that left you breathless and trembling atop him. You collapsed against his chest, panting, as his cock twitched deep inside you. Your hands slipped into his blonde locks and wrenched his head up so he was looking directly into your eyes.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah..”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[honeyhoshi]

raise the stakes pt. 1

summary: you and soonyoung have been in each other’s orbits for years. you’ve watched him go from a grassroots player to receiving the captain’s armband—a sign of trust and acknowledging his loyalty to his team.

but he’s loyal to you too.

this a part of the man of the match universe and set in the 2022-2023 season.

genre: professional footballer (soccer) soonyoung, coach's daughter oc, (sort of) childhood friends to lovers, slight angst, smut

wordcount: 24,969, pt. 2 coming soon

pairing: soonyoung x afab!reader (named cho jiae)

warnings: oral (m & f receiving), spit kink (bec i wrote it), tit fucking, titty obsessed soonyoung, cum play, cum eating, fingering, squirting, brief embarrassment over squirting, brief impact play (soonyoung slaps her ass ONCE), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED IN REAL LIFE), creampie (again, bec i wrote it), soonyoung calls her baby, overwhelmed but HAPPY and SATISFIED tears

author's notes: i wrote this while recalling a lot of my own harrowing experiences with boys growing up and had a lot of embarrassing fun with it. i hope you all fall in love with this soonyoung the way i did.

There’s something to be said about how you’re hiding in your neighbor’s bush right now but you’re not interested in dealing with it at the moment.

You had been pulled from the comfort of your bed by the smiling, panting, hunk of hair known as your dog Ddalgi. He had been startled awake by the film you were watching and despite the ungodly hour, he had demanded to be taken out for a walk. If he had just closed his eyes and fallen back asleep, you wouldn’t be in such a predicament.

On most nights your neighborhood is dead quiet and pretty much abandoned at 1AM, everyone having retreated into the comfort of their homes. But tonight is an exception and the only other person outside makes you swear something unladylike. It’s Soonyoung.

It’s Soonyoung who had moved into the neighborhood three months ago. Soonyoung who you were able to successfully evade for all those weeks. Soonyoung who had just put a pretty lady into a taxi, his wishes of safety and to let him know when she’s made it home audible just as you rounded the corner from the Jang’s.

You try to stay as still and as quiet as you can, willing him to walk back up his stupid driveway and into his house so you and Ddalgi can make a run for it to your dog’s favorite stop just past his property. Had you been alone you’d be successful, but your Golden Retriever's bladder is ready to burst and his whines and antsy tippy tapping toes are enough to sell you out.

Then comes a call of your name, “Is that you?”

There’s no use in hiding now and you make a face before trying to compose yourself, moving behind the bush and sending a tentative wave his way.

“Evening, Hosh!” You wave from your spots.

You curse every god you can name at the top of your head because of course it had to be Soonyoung.

He waves back tentatively and turns his wrist to look at the time on his watch and you can see him furrowing his eyebrows, probably not believing the time.

Ddalgi is having none of it, by the way, and tugs at you impatiently at the sight of someone new. He’s wagging his tail ferrociously as you two make your way to Soonyoung – your dog excitedly, and you begrudging.

All questions fall from Soonyoung’s lips as he greets Ddalgi with open arms allowing your dog to lick at his face. You’ll forever remember this night as your dog getting further with your teenage crush in his two years of life than you have in all twenty eight of yours.

You start cursing gods again.

You will have to admit that the two of them are cute and you wish you could snap a picture of the sweet moment, Soonyoung’s love for animals still ever present. You have to keep the smile down when he looks up to you from where he’s kneeled down to play with Ddalgi.

Once he’s had enough of your dog’s wet, slobbery love, he gets up, dusts off the imaginary dust from his pants and looks to you expectantly. As always, Soonyoung looks fresh and young and bright. You wonder if you should shield your eyes from his natural brilliance. 

Ddalgi busies himself by sniffing at Soonyoung’s bushes, no doubt ready to unleash his bladder, while you kind of sway there in your ratty sweater and sleep shorts. 

“So!” You start, flashing him a cheesy smile.

“Soooo…” Soonyoung replies with a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You’re saved by the bell when you hear the telltale sound of your dog going and you can’t help but make a face, “Sorry about that, he really needed to go.”

Soonyoung himself can’t help when he lets out a laugh and you want to melt.

“It’s no bother, really–”

“Also uh, sorry about uh, you know–”

“Oh!” 

You’re both cutting each other off and when you meet his eyes you both can’t help the genuine laughter that spills out of both your mouths. Ddalgi can’t help it either when he lets out a gleeful bark, wanting to join in on the fun.

When you’ve caught your breath, you can’t help that a smile stays on your face.

“What I was trying to say,” You finally get out, “is uh, sorry for walking in on you and your uhh, ya know, lady friend–”

Soonyoung tries to butt in with a “No, it really–”

You stop him with a hand on his chest and a playful, overexaggerated wink.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell dad you’re still up this late or whatever arcane rule of his you’ve broken,” with a slight tug of his leash, you start to lead Ddalgi towards the direction of your house.

Soonyoung gapes at you and you send him a thumbs up.

As you’re walking away he seems to get a hold of his bearings and yells out, disrupting the calm evening, “It wasn’t like that, I swear!”

You turn to him, walking backwards, “Don’t worry, Hosh! I can keep a secret!”

And keep this secret you will. You’d take it to the grave if you have to. Because it was mortifying.

The mere idea that Soonyoung was going to be caught in a dating scandal had been your personal nightmare for years. Harboring a crush was brutal in and of itself, but harboring a crush on a world-renowned football player who you sort of spent your childhood around and is now a  professional playing under your dad’s guidance is a wholly unique experience that very few would be able to relate to.

Your history with Soonyoung started when you were twelve and realized with utmost alarm that boys can be cute. 

You had grown up with an older brother and just that experience alone made you think that boys sucked. But having spent a good chunk of your after-school schedule at the HYBE training facilities meant you were always surrounded by rowdy football players (who smelled and were loud and annoying).

Soonyoung was all of those things, of course. 

But he was also cute.

The realization was quite unwelcome because you liked turning your nose up at the gaggle of teenage boys who barrelled their way into your dad’s office after training, asking for photos and autographs, going on about a new play they wanted to try, and if he’d let them play forward for the next scrimmage.

Such was the life of the head coach for an Under-18 league team.

But none were as consistent as Soonyoung had been. He was in that office after every single practice; hounding your dad about how he had played, and if your dad saw how he improved, and if your dad could teach him that move from the 2005 cup final.

At first it had baffled you. Soonyoung didn’t even play under your dad's guidance. He was just as old as you were and wouldn't be part of your dad's team for another three or so years. One day you gave him a real good look and your eyes hone in on the gloves he had under his arm.

He was a goal keeper.

Playing keeper wasn't a particularly flashy position for most kids—the glamor of scoring goals was usually at the top of most's heads. Kids who were put in front of the goal usually groaned and kicked the dirt at the little ball possession they'd get, and of course, not being able to score any goals.

Even you had preferred to play, during your brief football career, what you then considered a more active position of right back.

But Soonyoung wore his keeper’s gloves like a badge of honor and looked at your dad like the second coming of Christ. Which made sense as your dad had been one of the most prolific goal keepers in the Korean league. You don’t fault Soonyoung for looking up to your dad like a hero, he was yours as well.

While most of the players leave you be to work on whatever homework you brought to kill time, Soonyoung always bade you goodbye after his little consultation session, always a little rushed and mumbling how he might miss his train back home.

Admittedly now it seems a little bare minimum but you were twelve and no other boy really paid you any mind. Soonyoung’s bright eye smile and sweaty face had been tattooed in your brain since then and you looked forward to his rushed, sweaty, and sweet goodbye almost every day.

All of this comes to mind as you faceplant onto your bed and leave Ddalgi to his own devices. Your convoluted past with Soonyoung swims before your eyes like a movie montage and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut at your mistakes, lapses, and missed chances. You survived eight years of his professional career without the worry of a WAG coming into the picture but all of that may be at an end at 2AM on a random Sunday.

Sleep had evaded you in the early hours of the morning and what little sleep you did get was subpar.

There’s a frown on your face when you jog down the stairs, opting to join your dad in the dining room for breakfast.             

“Good morning, sweet peach. There’s strawberries and croissants on the table,” your dad greets, briefly looking up from the game of Candy Crush on his iPad. 

Your squinted eyes finally focus on what’s in front of you and you perk up.

“Ooh my favorite!” You press a kiss to his cheek and observe the simple breakfast spread before you.

There’s an open box of strawberries you recognize from the weekend market you visited a few weeks ago. They always run out before you’re able to wipe the sleep from your eyes to try them again.

“Where’s Ddalgi?” You say, staring at a wall, still a bit dazed as you reach for and bite into a strawberry.

“He’s outside with Soonyoung,” You stop chewing.

“Oh,” you start. Now you’re waking up, “So I guess the strawberries and the croissants are—“

“Yup, Soonyoung’s brought them over.” The way your dad says this all so casually makes you want to scream. He hasn’t even looked up from his game. 

You’re still bleary-eyed, but you slide open the side door and find Soonyoung and your Golden Retriever on the patio. They turn their heads to you at the same time, both happily munching on something.

“Kwon, what are you feeding my dog?” Your heart is racing, your mind suddenly going to the possibility of Ddalgi having eaten something he isn’t allowed.

“Strawberries!” Soonyoung gleefully exclaims, raising one in the air, “I found out that they were quite good for them! Whitens their teeth and they have a really healthy enzyme or something.”

“That’s cannibalism,” you frown as Ddalgi sniffles at Soonyoung’s hand, asking to eat another of his namesake. 

“But look, he likes them so much,” You can’t help but roll your eyes as you watch Ddalgi charm yet another guest.

You make soft cooing noises at your dog, but he refuses to separate himself from Soonyoung, who is happily plucking the leaves off of the strawberries, popping them into his mouth, and offering them to Ddalgi.

You frown again. Your dog wasn’t there when you woke up, meaning you were deprived of your routinary 30 minutes of giving him sleepy kisses and cuddling before mustering enough strength to get out of bed.

You sigh and drop yourself onto a sunchair, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra.

“What are you doing here Soonyoung?”

He’s trying to avoid your eyes, pretending to squint at the distance, “I was just in the neighborhood and decided to drop off some breakfast.”

“You live like 10 houses down, you’re always in the neighborhood.”

“They’re big houses,” He says in all seriousness, finally meeting your eye.

You try to hold it in, but the second he breaks out in laughter, you can’t help but join in. 

When he catches his breath he says, “I just wanted to make up for last night.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to say that what you saw… wasn’t what you saw,” he explains poorly.

You nod playfully, putting on a faux smirk, “What I saw doesn’t matter,” You say, “Your business is your business.”

The reality is that you want to make it your business. 

Sleep had come with much difficulty the night prior, your heart reminding your head of all the silly interactions you’d had with Soonyoung growing up. You tossed and turned, thinking of how you could have used them to your advantage. To maybe charm him all those years ago. Maybe then you would have been the pretty thing on his arm during team dinners or wearing his jersey during games.

“Why were you even out that late?” Soonyoung questions, knocking you out of your reverie.

“Woke Ddalgi up while watching a movie,” you explain.

“New one for The Log?”

The Log was the unofficial horror film log you had started on your Instagram a few years back. You didn’t think anyone really paid any attention to that but some of your film buff girlfriends.

“You keep up with The Log?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

“Hell yeah,” He says, eyes lighting up, “I don’t have the time to always watch the movies but I like to know what they’re about. Vernon made us watch that one where they made that girl play Hide and Seek, at the last team dinner.”

“Ready Or Not,” you say, providing him with the title. 

“Yeah, that one!”

“It’s a pretty good one. Good choice.” You nod in acknowledgement at his teammate’s superb film taste. 

“So do you and Ddalgi always do that?” Soonyoung asks, circling back to the previous topic.

“What, 2AM walks? Yup.”

Soonyoung gapes at you then looks to Ddalgi as if he’d understand Soonyoung’s disbelief.

“Yeah! All the time, even!” You begin to explain, “He always has to go out once he’s woken up. It doesn’t even matter what time it is.”

You can hear your dad calling for him from inside the house, catching your attention.

“You should text me,” Soonyoung says all of a sudden.

“What?” You’re genuinely taken aback. You don’t even have his number.

“If you two are going for a walk,” He says earnestly, looking you dead in the eyes, “You should text me.”

You’re stunned speechless. Before you even muster up enough courage to say something, he stands up, gives Ddalgi a pat on the head, and goes inside. 

You’re too much of a coward to do anything. Too afraid to go inside, knowing he’s in there talking with your dad. You wait until you hear him bid your dad goodbye before you and Ddalgi go back inside to eat the strawberries.

Upstairs there’s an unread message on your phone waiting to give you the surprise of your life.

Unknown Sender Today 3:49AM

Hey, I'm sorry about earlier!!! It really wasn't what you think bec That was my cousin 😩

Pls the thought of people thinking the two of us are dating makes me sickkkk

R u there

One day you’re going to get told off for just walking about the HYBE Training Center as you pleased but that day will not be today. The perks of having pretty much grown up in this building meant that you almost knew it inside out and upside down. The promotion from “A Coach’s Daughter” to “The Manager's Daughter” is a big one and one you never really thought of taking full advantage of. 

As you grew a bit older you found your own interests and opted for after school extracurriculars, taking the train home with your friends, and soon, time spent walking through these halls in your school uniform dwindled down to zero.

It makes what you’re doing now a little awkward.

While you weren’t skulking around like a creep, this was far from what it used to be. You’ve completely run out of your childish charm that made being a menace around the center cute. Now you were just Mr. Cho’s temporary stay at home daughter, much too old to be bringing her old man lunch.

You remember walking next to your father, acting self important and snooty, thinking you were far better than the silly boys who spent hours kicking a ball around a pitch only to net one or two goals a game, and celebrating those goals as if they were playing in the San Siro in Italy. You were all just in Gangnam. Of course this was all to veil the poorly hidden enthusiasm you yourself had for the game. And the players. A player.

Soonyoung.

It isn’t uncommon for players to start of their careers in bottom or midrank teams, make a name for themselves, then get transferred to teams in the upper rungs. Several of the Diamonds’ players had such histories. 

But not Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung had grown up in these halls probably more than you did. You don’t know when exactly he joined the Diamonds but he’s one of the few players on the first team that’s been here since his grass roots days. Aside from his dedication to the sport, he was without a question, dedicated to the Diamonds.

You suppose some twenty or so years have led to this.

You’re standing in front of a wall-sized photo of this year’s squad. Soonyoung is standing proudly at the center with his arms folded over his chest and the Captain’s armband wrapped around his bicep. After the shock and upset that wracked the city upon Seungcheol’s retirement and subsequent abdication from the post of captain, Soonyoung had a heavy burden on his shoulders to get the Diamonds back in action.

It was impressive what he’s done in three years.

“You never texted me ba–”

“Oh my fucking GOD!”

You were a second away from caressing poster Soonyoung’s face on the wall when the voice of the real Soonyoung knocked you out of your reverie. You can’t see your face but you know you’re beet red and frazzled when you turn to look at Soonyoung who has a jolly smile on his face, eyes forming crescents.

He’s dressed in training gear, a simplified version of the home kit with the number 1 on the middle of the shirt. He’s slightly flushed from what may be exertion from the session, hands free of the gloves he’s usually wearing.

“You can’t just do that!” You cry, a hand on your chest to ease your rapid heartbeat.

“Sorry, peaches,” He says, the nickname making your ears perk up.

“Please, not that tiredass nickname.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Peaches was a family nickname that originated from way back when you were born with no hair on your head but peach fuzz. Your dad had a particular affinity for it and had used it up until now. Everyone else from his close friends to co-workers had taken to the nickname as well and it had become your unofficial Diamonds title.

Now even his players were calling you Peaches.

“It’s a cute name,” Soonyoung says.

“My dad has a penchant for nicknames, truly,” You begin, “Peaches for me, Hoshi for you.”

Hoshi, Soonyoung’s nickname, had been a moniker bestowed upon him by your father some time in the 2010s. Tiger’s gaze, it had meant. An apt description for how Soonyoung’s eyes sharpen when he’s on the pitch. 

He’s become known for it, how he shifts from Soonyoung to Hoshi when the whistle blows, signaling the start of a match. You’ve fallen down a TikTok rabbit hole of these Soonyoung to Hoshi transformation compilations one too many times before. Not that that’s anyone’s business but your own.

“What’re you doing here? Haven’t seen you around here in ages,” Soonyoung says, scratching the back of his head and ruffling his hair. It’s longer than you remember it being, like he hasn’t cut it since the end of the last season.

It looks good.

You hold up the paperbag in your hand, “Wanted to surprise my dad with some lunch, but uh, I haven’t done this in a while, so I kind of forgot to check his schedule before heading over.”

Soonyoung nods in understanding.

“He’s skipping the start of morning practice for a meeting of some sort with Seungcheol. He should be back in maybe twenty for the second half,” Soonyoung explains, ”We’re starting back in a while. You should come watch while you wait.”

Watching training sessions had been a weekend pastime. Getting through morning sessions on Saturdays meant lunch out, heading to the mall, or your favorite, seeing a matinee show afterwards. You’d spent hours sitting around the pitch dedicated for the under-18 team’s coaching staff with a book in your hands (a mere prop, really), secretly eyeing the cute older boys and, when the fates would permit, the under-15 team playing on the adjacent pitch.

You can picture it in your mind’s eye – Soonyoung and Wonwoo, the two members of the Diamond’s current team who were in the same batch of grassroots players, shoving each other as they walked from the dugout to their team’s pitch. They’d offer a polite nod to your father and his staff, and a small wave to you. The memory makes you smile slightly as you nod at Soonyoung and let him lead you to the main pitch.

Throughout the years, the constant exposure to one another led you to befriend the players that stuck around. It was surface level, but the familiarity is welcome as you really take in how long its been since you’ve involved yourself with the Diamonds on a personal level. Despite the teenage angst and the mostly made up agony from those years, you hold them all in your silly little heart dearly.

You suppose its only fair that things have changed since then. When Soonyoung leads you to the main pitch, it’s far bigger than the ones he and Wonwoo used to play on, back when you’d eye them doing drills and blushing when they’d pull their shirts up to clear their eyes of sweat. Now Soonyoung strides onto the pitch with confidence that comes with years of experience and success under his belt. It looks good on him. It looks right, even.

When you turn to the spectator seats you find yourself met with familiar faces. You can't help the excitement that courses through you as pigtails and pink ribbons run towards you.

“Seunghee-ya!” You squeal as a little girl launches herself into your arms.

Seungcheol, your father’s assistant manager and an ex-captain of the Diamonds, had blessed the team with their own little princess four years ago. In no time she had taken to the attention of her uncles and their respective partners like a fish to water. She’s what you imagine you were like at four years old and stomping around the pitch in pink cleats and a mini version of the home kit on.

She peppers your face with kisses and you press a big one to her cheek in response and you carry her on your hip. You turn to Soonyoung and find him grinning at the exchange between the two of you.

You can’t help but blush before saying, “Sorry, its just been so long since I’ve gotten to babysit her.”

The smile on Soonyoung’s face just grows, “Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s cute. You both are.”

The flush on your cheeks feels downright painful now as you try to pretend you didn’t hear anything Soonyoung had said and instead head towards where Seunghee’s mom is seated with a few other spectators. Soonyoung just follows behind you, not saying a word.

You go up to Seunghee’s mom, Sunhee, and pass her daughter along as you exchange hellos and how are yous. When you meet her eye, she raises a well manicured eyebrow at you then quickly flicks her eyes over at Soonyoung before eyeing you again.

You make a face as if asking her to drop it, but a smile threatens her lips and you cut her off before she says something that might embarrass you further.

“I was going to bring my dad some lunch, but he wasn’t in his office and I kind of just ended up wandering around. Hoshi found me is all,” You explain.

“Sure.” Is Sunhee’s only acknowledgement before sitting back down with her daughter.

“You’ll be okay hanging out here, right?” Soonyoung says, gesturing to the seats in front of you.

“Yup, I’ll be fine. I’ve been sitting at the WAG bench forever,” You joke, before realizing how it sounded and quickly correcting yourself, “I mean, because of my mom! Like, you know, WAG for over twenty five years, and all of that haha! Not that I’ve ever been a WAG? Like imagine that, haha! I wish!”

You want to scream.

Soonyoung just nods and you bite the smile threatening your lips as sit yourself down next to Sunhee.

“That was like watching a car crash, I couldn’t look awa–”

“Stooop,” You whine, dropping your head onto her shoulder as Soonyoung walks away. 

You had been sitting at the WAG bench for ages. Just like little Seunghee is right now, you had accompanied your mother to many of your dad’s training sessions and matches, both when he was an active player and then later on when he became a part of the coaching staff. It’s only really hitting you now that you were sitting at the WAG bench with no real purpose.

Sunhee and her daughter were her for Seungcheol, and up a few rows you spotted Bang Ahreum sitting in her boyfriend’s lap, giggling. If it were the weekend, and not a random Thursday, you’re sure a few more ladies would fill the seats.

“You’d make a really cute WAG,” Sunhee says with a giggle, “Soonyoung would agree.”

You can’t help the small smile of appreciation at Sunhee’s words, indulging at the little fantasy, but turning towards the slight commotion coming from the players on the pitch as they greet the newcomers of Seungcheol and your father.

You send a big wave towards your dad, catching his attention and seeing him wave and smile back and he walks to you. You fix the little snacks you’d put together in your paperbag and pull one out to hand over to Sunhee with a little wink before standing and dusting off your jeans. You greet your dad with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. He leaves training in Seungcheol’s capable hands, wanting to enjoy the surprise of having you back at HYBE like the old days. 

The players all wave and bid you two goodbye when a loud, “BYE PEACHES!” comes from the chorus of Jun, Woozi, and Wonwoo by the goal at the far end of the pitch. You turn with a laugh and wave goodbye and catch Soonyoung’s eye from behind his teammates.

He sends a small wave and smile before he makes a phone with his gloved hand and brings it up to his ear, quirking his eyebrow, as if in challenge.

You shake your head and offer a little nod, hoping he sees from where he’s watching you.

“What was that about?” Your dad asks with a laugh as well.

You aren’t sure and tell him just as much.

If there was ever a time you thought your dad must’ve been clued in in your debilitating crush on Soonyoung, it was when you were sixteen and in need of a date. Being sent to a stuffy all girls school meant you had to deal with all the annoying ceremonials and traditions like classes spent on ladylike dancing and good manners in front of boys.

That was all to be put into practical use in your 10th year, where those in your year were allowed to take part in a charity dinner. It was really just some lame version of American dances that your school had pirated and you had dreaded since entering high school. While it was really a family and friends thing, people really mostly paid attention to two things: what you wore and who your date was.

Most students played it safe by bringing their parents and wearing their mom’s jewelry, but it was the perfect opportunity for the upper grades to bring their boyfriends and show off to everyone that they were so cool and mature. You want to say you’re unaffected, but upon hearing that most of your friends were brining people other than their dads, you were starting to sweat.

Despite having been around boys your whole life thanks to your dad’s work, it wasn’t like that ever took fruit in any way, shape, or form. At sixteen you had never had anyone show any interest in you aside from asking about your dad or if they could somehow get into the club through your connections.

Your dad had likely warned away any interested guys or set a rule of ‘hands off my daughter!’ from an early age. It wasn’t until recently did you find out that your suspicions were somewhat true and the team had a long standing rule that family was off limits, all thanks to Jeonghan’s girlfriend cluing you in.

In addition to that, after you’d started putting more time into your extra curriculars and found hobbies you could be passionate about. Your interest in meeting boys and finding romantic connections simply just didn’t register. At this age even Soonyoung was just sitting at the corner of your mind, your crush only making itself known if your dad mentions him in passing.

With the charity dinner coming closer and closer, you were running out of time to look for someone to take you. Your brother and any of his friends were out of the picture, all off to college and too busy to take you to what he’d deem a silly little dance. You had no cousins your age that lived around the area, so that was out of the picture. And unlike your friends, you had zero to no male friends to ring in a favor to.

The realization had dawned over you slowly and torturously–were you so undesirable that no boy would look your way if not for the man you called your dad? Was the only time you could interact with the male species through your after school drama club? It was all so mortifying.

You had explained as such to your mother as you faceplanted onto your parents’ bed, dumping onto her the woes of being a teenager and the troubles of girlhood that you were merely at the cusp of.

“You can ask your dad if he has any players who can take you,” She had suggested offhandedly.

You’d already considered that weeks prior. You knew that some of his players were already making names for themselves in the juvenile leagues and Under-18 National Team. Surely bringing one of those players would have you as the Belle of the Ball. But you quickly shut that down because the only way that would happen was if you asked your dad. That in itself was an embarrassing enough idea that you want to die just thinking about it.

With your mother bringing it up again, you can’t help but partially entertain the idea. If she brought it up, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

During dinner that evening the topic of the Charity Dinner is brought up in the middle of one of your dad’s training stories. He was going on about how close he had gotten with this crop of Under-18s, watching them grow since he became part of the club’s training staff after his retirement from professional playing.

Soonyoung in particular was growing up to be quite the goal keeper.

You tried to keep your eyes down and trained to your quickly cooling Samgyetang, avoiding either of your parents’ eyes but it was to no avail as your mom joyfully mentioned the school activity. You didn’t need a mirror to know how red your ears had gotten.

“Do you think Soonyoung would mind taking her to the Charity dinner?”

You wanted to drown yourself in the soup when you brother laughed and your dad had coughed.

“You’re thinking of asking the starting Keeper of the U-18 National Team to take this loser to her pseudo-prom?” Your brother mocked.

You sent him a scathing look as your mother said his name as a warning, “It’d be a good idea! Soonyoung’s a really good boy.”

“I–uh, I’ll check with him,” Your dad had said and that was that.

The days that followed that were torturous but you were hopeful. You couldn’t help yourself when you had daydreamed about what kind of night the Charity Dinner would be with Soonyoung on your arm, and you were unable to stop yourself from gushing to your friends about the possibility of a teenage celebrity coming as your date.

Your date.

Your date.

You were over the moon with the realization that your crush was going to be escorting you to this event and that it could possibly a kicking off point for you two to get closer and maybe become something more.

papa 💛 Today 1:28PM

were you able to asksoonyoung?

I’ll ask him later.

That Monday you had texted your dad.

Training was every day except Fridays and weekends, so you had known they’d see each other.

Not wanting to sound too eager, you had dropped the subject and thought that you’d allow your dad to his task.

On Tuesday, you had heard nothing.

On Wednesday, you were going out of your mind in anticipation. More and more people were talking about the dinner and your big talk about your date had started to taste ashen in your mouth.

After school you couldn’t help yourself as you sent a “Did you ask Soonyoung yet? What did he say?” off to your dad’s number, unable to focus as you mess up the lines in a monologue you knew by heart just last week.

After rehearsals you had felt your heart lodge itself in your throat at you took in the words on your phone, trying to keep the pressure building in your temples at bay.

papa 💛 Today 2:04PM

did u ask soonyoung yet? what did he say?

I am your dad, not one of your friends. You still need to talk to me with respect.

Soonyoung has a prior commitment on that day and can’t attend the dinner.

You felt hot tears well at your eyes as you blinked rapidly to shoo them away and wiped at your face to avoid any questions from your peers.

It didn’t help that your dad had picked you up that day, the car ride tense and completely awkward for both of you, you’re sure. You had grasped at straws to make sure the topic of the dinner or of Soonyoung did not come up, your usual How did training go? out of the question. Instead you had lied about how good rehearsals had gone and how happy your moderator was with your performance.

Once you got home you had skipped dinner and cried in the shower while Taylor Swift blared from your iPod Touch.

Drama really was the perfect club for you.

With Soonyoung unavailable, you had decided to go stag—which was a perfectly acceptable decision. Still, you felt the sting of rejection as it burned deep in your heart. Your dress was gray, a perfect match for the heavy raincloud that hung over your head, you thought. And though it swayed and flounced perfectly when you twirled, you couldn’t help the dissatisfaction painted on your face.

When you had dragged yourself down the stairs, you were already bemoaning how you didn’t want to take any photos, but was surprised to see your dad standing at the foot of the stairs, fixing his cufflinks while your mom adjusted his tie. A gray that matched your dress perfectly. You took his arm proudly and smiled for all the photos your mom directed your brother to take.

That night your dad drove to your school in his flashiest car, made a jaw dropping donation, and pretended like he could dance. On his suggestion, you had left the dinner earlier and stopped by a Lotteria instead. You rested your chin on his shoulder while he ordered your usuals and you ate and laughed before heading home.

That night he had pressed a long kiss to your forehead before sending you off to bed.

Mustering enough courage to finally text Soonyoung takes about a week. 

His number is saved as a conservative Kwon Soonyoung (Diamonds) as if he was a business associate you didn't want to get mixed up with your regular contacts. You stare at the conversation window for longer than than deemed normal, though. You haven’t been this nervous to message a boy since you were a freshman in university, that by the time you actually send the message, Ddlagi is whining and anxious to get going.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 2:04PM

would u happen to be awake ?

Soonyoung’s swift reply almost gives you whiplash because you hadn’t expected it to come so soon, or for it to come at all.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 11:04PM

would u happen to be awake ?

You bet I am

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you find that you're far from what you deem as “Soonyoung worthy.” But when your phone pings with another message, you find that you don’t have the luxury of time. 

It also wouldn’t make any sense if Soonyoung ever caught you outside and your “just woke up like this” couture was inconsistent. Right. Baggy hoodie and pajama shorts will definitely have to do.

                                                                                                                                                   You’re kind of at a loss when you read the message as you clip on Ddlagi’s leash and put on a pair of outdoor shoes. Soonyoung becoming your neighbor in the year of our Lord 2023 was not something you considered, and definitely not something you thought would ever lead to tandem dog walking.

But when you open your door, it kind of takes your breath away when you see him, soft and barefaced in his own ratty hoodie and sweats combo, smiling at you from behind the garden gate. This image of him almost rewrites the last ten or so years of his semi-absence in your life, offering a chance to relive some teenage fantasies you’d set aside as impossibilities.

“Hi,” comes your small, hesitant whisper of a greeting when you’re standing face to face.

“Hi,” he replies simply, a hint of hesitation as well, but he’s smiling, still.

Ddalgi is a bundle of excitement when he sees the newest addition to your night walk and tugs at your arm impatiently, wanting to shower Soonyoung with kisses, the gate between them be damned. It makes Soonyong let out that little laugh that makes you want to die and the small smile he gives you spreads on his face wider at Ddalgi’s joy.

Your delay in texting him had come from the fear of not having anything to talk about. Despite all the years together you weren’t always actually together. You worried that the initial connection of being in your dad’s office or within the halls of HYBE has withered away any possible topic for you to broach without it being forced or awkward.

God, you always hated the talking stage. And while that’s obviously not what this is (you think), you don’t want to mess up at least being friends with Soonyoung. And you should have known that would be enough to break the tension with Soonyoung. Conversation comes easily between the two of you with him as a natural people person and you as a natural yapper.

“You managed to catch the game today?” He starts.

“I managed to catch it in my free time,” You answer coyly.

Partially true. Being in between jobs meant nearly every minute of the day was ‘free time.’

“And?” He goads.

“And what?”

“What’d you think!”

“That late game save was insane,” It seems like you’re laying it on thick but the way Soonyoung preens makes it worth it.

“Nah, it was nothi—“

“But!” You interject.

Soonyoung gives you an incredulous look, “BUT?”

“But you challenged it too late,” you start, “You could have definitely gone for the tackle while he was a ways away from the goal.”

“No way, Kang would’ve made that shot!” He argues back, he’s amused by your argument but doesn’t believe you.

“He wouldn’t have!” You laugh at how badly he isn’t taking your criticism. “Kang is a right foot kicker, he was coming at you from the far left, the angle was all wrong for him!”

“What! How can you do that?” He accuses.

“Do what?”

“Say exactly what coach did,” Soonyoung says as you two walk past the Jang’s and the bush you so unceremoniously hid behind that night.

“No way,” You say in slight disbelief, “But that just means I’m right!”

“I–” Soonyoung starts, “That’s not the point!”

“Sure it wasn’t, Captain,” You smirk and let Ddalgi drag you over to the patch of grass by Soonyoung’s own gated property.

“You should come see the game in person next time you’re free,” He suggests, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets and avoiding your eyes.

His eyes look a little pink from the cold.

“I don’t know…” Just as it was with the training center, you haven’t really been as present at the Gangnam stadium as you did when you were much younger.

“Oh come on, you used to go all the time when your dad was first made manager!”

You blush at that. You try not to read into it, but there’s a little bit of a rush that comes over you at the idea of Soonyoung taking notice of you back then, even if it was some 8 years ago and you were probably a completely different person.

“I don’t know…” You say, not wanting to commit to anything, “It’s just been so long and I’m worried it’ll feel a bit awkward just popping up like I did back at HYBE.”

“No way! You’ve been Diamonds family since like, conception!” He argues.

You give him a pointed look.

“Sunhee and Seunghee come a lot, Ahreum tries to make it to just about every game too,” Soonyoung lists down faces you’re familiar with, “And I mean, you can’t beat the home crowd.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face then, “That’s very true, Captain. You drive a hard bargain.”

He smirks as if to say well, what can I say!

Then he says, eyes trained to the sky, “If it means anything, I’d want you to be there too.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah?” You ask and he finally looks back.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll come to the next home game.”

You’re standing by the path that leads straight to Soonyoung’s garden gate and you tut at Ddalgi to head back towards your house as he’s relieved himself while you were conversing with Soonyoung.

“I guess this is where we say goodnight?” You say, walking backward.

“What, no way,” Soonyoung says, following you, “I’ll walk you home.”

“Soonyoung, we’re literally at your house,” You deadpan.

“Yeah, so what?” He waves it off and jogs next to you and following your stride, “I want to walk you home.”

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 10:42PM

Meet you at your gate

This text becomes Soonyoung’s go-to on nights and early mornings when he joins you and Ddalgi for short walks around the neighborhood. Even with the football season on going and your job hunting taking up both of your daytime schedules, you’ve found these walks to be the most sought after moments of your day.

Having these twenty or so minutes with Soonyoung almost everyday feels like some kind of silly dream come true. His presence feels less like something out of the ordinary, and you feel yourself beginning to feel less like you’re fumbling for something everytime you and your dog step out to meet him.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 9:36PM

No walk tonight?

had his monthly checkups today he's out like a light sorry 😔

Nah its cool You still down for a walk though?

bet

Without Ddalgi there to serve as the focal point of your walk, you’re left with little choice but to put all your attention on him. And for someone who's been doing that for most of their pre-teen years, as a twenty eight year old it serves as quite the struggle. Despite your newfound confidence in spending time with him here and there, somehow the air feels a little different this evening.

Soonyoung is set to take off for international duty in a few days and you’re loathe to admit that you’re a little sad that this little growing habit of late night walks was taking a little bit of a break. You’re lost in your thoughts when Soonyoung, expectedly, breaks the silence.

“I’m happy we’re becoming good friends,” He says.

A little goofy smile comes onto your face. You know it’s a little silly looking because you can feel the corners of your lips twitching as you keep your cool.

“We are friends, Soonyoung,” You say, “Unless, I’ve been reading things wrong these past like, fifteen years.”

“No, I mean real friends,” He insists with a bright smile, “Like friends who do stuff together and talk about their interests and stuff.”

He’s right. You’ve always just been in each other’s peripheries, but up until recently, you had never really had any real conversations or interactions with each other.

“We were around each other so much growing up,” He reminisces, “I remember you were always doing homework in your dad’s office or like, reading a book on the pitch. How you could focus, I have no idea. We were so fucking loud.”

You flush at the belated attention. Back then you had done your best to seem aloof and above it all, but the idea that Soonyoung had somehow still seen you is a lot to take in so many years later.

“I guess when you put it like that,” You start, “It is nice being friends with you after all these years.”

Friends is just the start of what you want with Soonyoung. But at this point you feel like it would be a disservice and dishonest to seek something more from him. You can’t imagine what his life must be like, if Soonyoung from sixteen years ago would have ever thought this would be his reality. So you ask him as much.

“Is it hard?”

“What is?” He clarifies.

“Making friends?”

He gives you a funny look, as if he’s not quite sure what you’re getting at.

“I mean as you, you know? Captain of the Cheongdam Diamonds, part of the World Cup team last year, and like, just being a professional player and all of that.” 

Soonyoung hums for a bit, considering his answer, “I guess it’s easy for Hoshi.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him a confused look.

“Every season we get new members on the squad and as captain, I become friends with them. Meeting new people at events or work engagements, I’m able to build good bonds and stuff like that. But I think that’s Hoshi who's good at it.”

“And Soonyoung?” You suggest.

“I think Soonyoung is a little shy,” He laughs, blowing at his hands to keep them warm. You feel your fingers twitch at your sides, wondering what his hands would feel like clasped between your own, your breath warming them up.

“Sometimes I’m still a little shocked and like, astounded that this is my life,” The two of you have gotten to his house now and he takes a moment to take the property in.

Just as many of the other houses and properties in the neighborhood, its quite a house. More modern than those on your street due to how newly developed it is. It’s definitely something he should be proud of. As the daughter of an ex-professional player, you’re aware of the economic benefits that come with the job.

And Soonyoung is very good at his job.

“Did you always know you’d make it?” You prod, joining him in marveling at his home of just four months.

He lets out a bark of a laugh, “I think I ran towards this dream like I had no other choice. I think I would have rather died than be anything other than me now.”

You turn to look at him and smile, “Well if anyone deserves it, it's you.”

“Oh come on, now you’re just laying it on thick.” He says.

“No way!” You argue, “I’ve seen every step you’ve taken to get here, Captain. You deserve it.”

“Don’t remind me, you’ve seen me through just about every goddamn phase I’ve ever been through,” He whines, rubbing at his face in embarrassment, “My academy days were brutal. Fucking Wonwoo cruised through that shit so smooth.”

You can’t help but laugh at the memory of the two of them. While Wonwoo wasn’t as permanent a fixture in your father’s office as Soonyoung was, you still saw him quite often, with him and Soonyoung stuck at the hip for years.

The left-back had always been tall and lean even as a pre-teen with black hair swooping across his forehead in what was a then-fashionable mop. There were always girls giggling in the stands talking and gushing about Wonwoo. Then you remember Soonyoung who stood next to him with his braces and choppy mullet and soft round cheeks and you can’t help but smile fondly at the days gone by.

“I think you did fine on your own.”

Soonyoung shakes his head as if there was no way you’d understand his boyhood woes, “Still, I think twelve year old me would piss himself if he ever found out we’d made it pro, we live in this house, we’re friends with you.”

Your ears perk up at that but you bite the smile threatening your lips, “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Oh come on, don’t make me say it,” He says, cheeks tinged pink.

“No! You already said it so I might as well come out with it!” You laugh.

He gapes at you for a second before shutting his mouth, shutting his eyes in embarrassment, then turning to look at you again.

“Okay, for a lot of the guys in my crop of players back then, you were kind of like the first girl we ever knew and wanted to impress, you know? It didn’t help that your dad was an actual living legend.” He says, the flush on his face seemingly contagious as you feel a warmth in your face as well.

“Shut up, now you’re just gassing me up.”

“Now you can’t take the heat?” He laughs as you two continue walking, your heart at ease as you walk past his house and not back towards your own, your walk far from over.

“Well they can all rest easy, I’m not much to fight over now,” You say lightly.

“Why not?” Soonyoung says, almost dead serious.

The atmosphere around you feels a little heavier now and you feel as though you must have said the wrong thing. You want to smack your head for feeling a bit too comfortable around Soonyoung to let the thing in the back of your mind rear its ugly head. 

You always knew your self deprecation was going to kick you in the ass one day.

“It’s nothing!” You panic, “I’m just saying, I’m nothing to write home about, is all!”

“Why would you say that?” Soonyoung says, genuinely confused.

“I–it’s nothing, Soonyoung,” You fight to get out, “Can we drop it?”

Soonyoung only nods and allows you the comfort of a change in topic. He talks about their upcoming match against Croatia; how he wishes one day he’ll be able to captain at the national level, talking about how well his nickname matches the white Tiger logo of the National team.

You’re thankful he doesn’t bring anything up for the rest of the walk, but it should come as no surprise when he walks you to your gate he speaks up on it.

“If it's worth anything, I think there’s something to write home about. Tons. Paragraphs, even.” He says it lightly, jokingly even.

The smile on his face is so radiant that it tickles that little spot in your heart that triggers a smile of your own.

“Goodnight, Soonyoung.”

“Sweet dreams!” He shouts as he walks backwards, heading to his own house, as if not wanting to turn away from you until he sees you smile.

Unknown Sender Today 8:19AM

hi hi since the boys are out on international duty u wanna lunch w sunhee n meeee oh!!! this is ahreum btw 🩷 i amsked gyu to ask soonie oppa for ur number but ur meanie bf wouldnt give it to me

so i asked coach cho hihi hope u dont mind!!

save my num pls!!! 🩷🩰🫧

WE 🩷 WAGS @KFAWAGs • may 8 New photo of #BANGAHREUM from the Fred Jewelry event! #KimMingyu #K9M #CDFC

ahreum (omg) 🩷🩰🫧 Today 8:19AM

save my num pls!!! 🩷🩰🫧

ahreum hi! uhhh idk how to say this but soonyoung and i arent dating

girl what

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Ahreum says, her pretty eyelashes fluttering as she blinks at you in disbelief.

“Ahreum,” Sunhee warns as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“But the lovestagrams!” She cries out.

You don’t know what to tell her that won’t disappoint her. It’s 3PM on a Friday and you’ve spent about three hours convincing two extremely well known WAGs that you are not in fact dating Kwon Soonyoung.

Unfortunately.

Grabbing lunch with Sunhee and Ahreum is more intimidating in theory than practice. While worlds apart in their daily lives, they were probably the two most publicized WAGs of their respective generations. 

Back when Seungcheol had been front and center for the Diamonds, Sunhee had been a permanent fixture at games. She was the WAG for ages with how long she and Seungcheol have been together. She was basically like a cool, funny older sister to you and much of the current squad.

Ahreum on the other hand was an enigma of her own. It should come as no surprise that the Diamonds’ flashiest player would have a girlfriend that matched him in renown. Mingyu’s girlfriend may stand at just five feet tall, but she commanded the room easily with her light presence and sometimes overly excitable energy. 

Must come with the job of being a top female K-Pop idol.

It should come as no shock that after your brief exchange over text, Ahreum had insisted you change into a cute little springtime dress and took a cab to a lunch spot in Garosu-gil within the hour. She had dragged you away from the maître d’ the second you arrived to sit you down in front of her and Sunhee. She’s been trying to pull out every single sordid detail of your debilitating childhood crush on the Diamonds’ captain and keeper all afternoon. 

“They aren’t lovestagrams,” You try to argue, “They’re just regular, you know, posts!”

“But they matched!” She cries out, “I was so close to turning on notifications for both of you in case you updated while I was at practice or something!”

“I guess it just happened. We went to some nice places, that's all.” You wished there was something there, but Soonyoung has had a wealth of opportunities if he was interested in you. He’s had them since you were like, twelve.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Sunhee offers, “I saw you two at training a few weeks back. There was something there.”

“Something! Something is good,” Ahreum nods, excitedly, “I can definitely work with something!”

“Noooo,” You whine, “No working on anything!”

Ahreum flashes you an overly exaggerated frown, “Why not. You two are so cute.”

You aren’t blind to what's been happening. How you once distantly existed to Soonyoung and how rapidly that had grown into this budding friendship. And while it was fun (and at times lovely) to fantasize about what it would be like if it grew into something more, Soonyoung’s admittance that this friendship is something he appreciated keeps you grounded.

“He just doesn't like me like that,” You say, trying not to sound defeated.

“This doesn’t make sense with my fantasy.”

“I’m perfectly okay with how we are right now,” Lie. “It took years for me to befriend him like this, so I really appreciate it for what it is.” Truth.

“Years? What!” Now it was Sunhee who was shocked.

“What do you mean what!”

“Have you and Soonyoung seriously been, you know, skirting around each other for years?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “We weren’t skirting around each other, Sunhee.”

She gives you a dead serious look.

“It just–it just never happened!” You blurt out, “I had a silly little teenage crush on him and was too socially inept to do anything about it.”

Speaking it out into the world feels pathetic but it’s also been a while since you were able to let it out. You consider keeping your cards to your chest, but when you look at Sunhee and Ahreum who are both lovely and just want to chitchat, you think it shouldn’t hurt to lend your stupid teen years to today’s gossip session.

So you tell them about your disastrous attempt to have Soonyoung escort you to your Year 10 Charity Dinner and find yourself being able to smile at how melodramatic you were about it. They listen with rapt attention, coo at your antics, and can’t help the visceral melting when you retell your dad’s knight in shining armor moment.

“That shouldn’t have kept you away from Soons for so long!” Sunhee considers.

 “It didn’t! Not really,” You start, “I think I kind of just had to wake up a bit after that.”

And wake up you did.

After the Charity Dinner you realized you could never show your face back at the HYBE training center, or at least in front of Soonyoung’s squad. There was no way you could sit on the pitch and be perceived by him as Coach Cho’s daughter who couldn’t get a date and had to pull strings with her dad to get one. And all things considered, even with the nepo baby connections you still showed up with your dad on your arm.

“If I’m not mistaken, Soonyoung started playing for my dad that year,” You reminisce, “I was just too embarrassed to be in front of him, you know?”

“Soonie must have hated that,” Ahreum pouts, picking at the croissant on her plate.

You doubt it, really.

“I think,” You start, “I think I never considered being friends with Soonyoung because I was so fixated on like, liking him, even if it was probably just a silly crush, you know?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t silly. We all have crushes! It’s a teen girl thing!” Sunhee comforts.

It is a teen girl thing, you agree. But when you look at the two women in front of you, you can’t help but marvel at how they probably cruised through their teen girl crushes. Ahreum had probably just turned twenty when she and Mingyu got together while Sunhee was literally married to her teen crush, having been Seungcheol’s childhood love, their love story a favorite among Diamonds fans.

“Well, silly or not, I was sure he didn’t like me back then,” You laugh at the bitterness of years gone by suddenly making itself known, “He showed up at my school’s charity dinner the following year.”

If his rejection of your invite was the final nail on the coffin, showing up with someone else the following year buried you six feet under.

In your 11th year, you and your friends had all decided to go stag and be each other’s dates, buying matching flowers to pin to your hair and making a whole day out of getting ready together. It was such an exciting way to look at an event that was so bittersweet to you, the unnecessary burn of humiliation still there whenever you thought about the previous year’s failed attempt to get a date.

The joy lasted for maybe three hours. After all the formalities of a fancy dinner and a charity auction for the parents in attendance, the event turns into a run of the mill dance with a subpar DJ and a makeshift dance floor. You’d skipped this part the year prior and dancing like a crazy person screaming the lyrics to Best Coast’s Boyfriend to your friends was something you were looking forward to.

You don’t get to do either because first of all, you put too much trust in the DJ to play anything other than A Thousand Years and Enchanted. Second would be that, in the midst of all the people in attendance, a face you never thought you’d see in your school gym is suddenly right in front of yours.

Soonyoung was standing there in an ill fitting blue suit and his hair haphazardly gelled down and he was your every silly daydream come to life.

You remember opening your mouth to say something to him, maybe a greeting, a question on why he was there, but you quickly shut it when his attention is pulled away by an upperclassman you weren’t familiar with.

When your gazes break, the silence that seemingly engulfed you disappears and you remember where you are and the implications of Soonyoung being there.

Boys were prohibited from campus except on select days you could count on one hand. He had to be there with someone. And that someone wasn’t you.

Your hands had grown clammy at the realization and you scramble to get your bearings. When you turn around to run off to the bathroom to maybe cry in frustration, you find yourself face to face with a boy who offers you his hand and a friendly smile.

Your poor self esteem had taken such a beating from that mere shared look with Soonyoung that this hand in front of you had felt like such a kindness. So you graciously took his hand as the opening beats of Boyfriend had come on the shitty gym speakers.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 11:37PM

Heard you had lunch out with the girls

??? howd u know

Ahreum posted on her burner

SHE HAS A BURNER??? whatd she post :(( UR SUCH A GOSSIP!!

Me??? For all I know you talked shit about me with Ahreum and Sunhee all afternoon

what happens at girl lunch stays at girl lunch

That just about confirms it! You guys were talking about me!

all bad things i promise

And here i was buying your and ddlagi gifts

oh my god soonyoung u shouldnt have

Nah its cool I just saw something and picked it up

well thank u ddalgi and i eagerly await your arrival

Is this your way of saying you miss me?

i said no such thing also!! what doin

Just got back to my room from dinner Feels weird not to go on a walk right now

well rest assured ddlagi has gone on an ill timed walk already he's down

You should take his lead then Sweet dreams, peaches

goodnight soonyoung 🤍

Mingyu’s surprise birthday party was being held at this swanky private speakeasy that was a favorite of the Diamonds’ striker according to Ahreum.

Initially you had felt discomfort when you arrived. You had come down the stairs and was immediately greeted by the smiling face of Ha Yves. You didn’t know who would be considered as party guests for people as popular and famous as Ahreum and Mingyu, but you shouldn’t have been surprised if they were all celebrities or A-Listers.

The room was filled with the members of AM♡RE still scuttling around, adding finishing touches to the long table in the middle of the room. Despite the burning feeling of being out of place, you couldn’t help the smile that had spread on your face watching these celebrities put on a surprise for a friend’s birthday.

You suddenly feel unprepared for the evening, your usual extroverted flourish having diminished quite a bit lately. 

The group is quick to greet you with a squeal of “Unnie!” and Choi Yena, who you’re familiar with, gives you a quick squeeze of a hug. The warm welcome eases your mind, introductions are given and you tell them you’re at their disposal with the decorating.

You quickly learn that this evening is a private affair of friends and family as more of Mingyu’s friends arrive, players from other teams that you’re familiar with, Ahreum’s brother being one of them. The implication of you being a part of that classification makes the pleasant feeling in your stomach grow, and the weight of imposition lifts from your shoulders.

You’re standing on a chair and holding up a gold foil balloon, helping Yves decide on the best placement when a bellowing “AMOOOOOOREEEE” cuts through the music playing through the speakers.

You bite your lip to stop the smile attempting to split your face in two.

Yves abandons you to go on and play the good leader and greets the members of the squad who were able to come, giving fist bumps and quick high fives. After the typical niceties, Soonyoung catches your eye, and laughs.

“What’re you doing all the way up there, Peaches?” He walks up to you, eyeing you from head to toe, and sending warmth throughout your body following the same path, “If you fall from there, you’ll be out for the rest of the season.”

The smile wins this round. You roll your eyes as he offers you a hand to help you down.

You pray your hand isn’t sweaty as you take his hand in yours, trying to step down as gracefully as you can without flashing the whole room. Your skirt much too short for standing on chairs even with the stockings you (thankfully) decided on last minute. You steady yourself with a quick grip on Soonyoung’s shoulder with your other hand.

Once you’re safely on the ground you flash him a thankful smile as you let go of his hand and shoulder.

“You good?” He asks, voice now a little quieter, only for you to hear.

You offer him a small nod, “Yeah, all good now. Better now.”

The rest of the night goes according to, if not better than, planned. Mingyu had jogged down the stairs with Ahreum and played the part of shocked boyfriend perfectly, beaming at her as she pulled the string of a party popper. He planted the biggest kiss onto her awaiting lips as you and the rest of the guests hooted at their PDA.

Mingyu flipped everyone off mid-kiss, of course.

You found yourself seated shoulder to shoulder with Soonyoung on your left and Vernon to your right, while Wonwoo sat in front of you. You’d spent the majority of the evening discussing films with the two of them while Soonyoung remarked about ones he’d yet to see, saying, “We should add that to our list.”

The list being an ever growing shared note on the Notes app on both your phones with a working list of movies you think he needs to watch.

“Dude, just get a Letterboxd account,” Vernon suggests.

“I said that too!” You laugh.

“Haha, okay laugh all you guys want,” Soonyoung says, attempting to stand up for himself, “But I just figured that shared note thing out and that works just fine for us, thank you!”

You elbow him playfully and he sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

“I’m getting another Coke, Wons you want one?” Soonyoung asks as he downs the last of his soda.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll get another later.”

He turns to you, “Another daiquiri, passenger princess?”

You flush as he pretty much announces to everyone who was paying attention that you were coming home with him. Well, technically just riding his car to his house then walking on foot to yours as has become your routine from nights out.

“No, I think I’m good for tonight.” The realization that you were going to be seated next to him on the way home quickly sobers you up. There was no way you could get sloshed now.

He nods in understanding as he undrapes his arm from around the back of your chair and gets up.

Vernon has been pulled into a conversation by the other end of the table and you find yourself sitting in comfortable silence with Wonwoo.

Soonyoung’s best friend has become a more familiar presence in your life just as much as Soonyoung himself. It’s nice, you think, getting to know the quieter half of this duo you’ve known for so long.

You learned that Wonwoo’s not really all that quiet when Soonyoung is there to prod and pick on him, and that Soonyoung is so much more easily humbled with the keeper of all his secrets present.

“You two look like a couple,” Wonwoo says after a while.

You gawk at him, unable to think of a quick enough retort.

“Just say, ‘thank you, Wonwoo’”” He says with an easy laugh, quoting himself from a few days ago.

Now you scowl, “Take that back, Wonwoo!”

“Why? It’s the truth!” He argues, “I don’t think either of you notice how close you two always are.”

“We are not!”

“You can’t tell because you’re too busy ogling my best friend. I can because you guys keep asking me to come hang out with you two so it seems like you’re not out on a date!” There’s a smile on his face and while he’s accusatory, Wonwoo seems to get some joy out of pointing out your glaringly obvious crush on Soonyoung.

“You’re delusional,” you attempt to argue and Wonwoo can only sputter at you.

“Takes one to know one?” He retaliates. 

Before you can stick your tongue out at him, pulling a card from Soonyoung’s repertoire of moves, the far end of the table starts to sing Happy Birthday.

Soonyoung is precariously carrying a two tier birthday cake and a beer pint filled to the brim with ice and Coke as he yells out the words to Happy Birthday. He’s beaming as he presents the cake to Mingyu and Ahreum urges Mingyu to make a wish.

He closes his eyes quickly, makes quick work of blowing out all the candles and giving Ahreum a kiss on the cheek.

Soonyoung cheers the loudest again and almost drops the cake as he sets it down on the table. His antics makes the rest of the guests laugh but next to him Yves, playfully whacks him on the shoulder and chastises him with a litany you can’t hear from where you’re seated.

Soonyoung bats his eyes at her and pouts cutely, no doubt attempting to ease her annoyance. You feel the blood draining from cheeks as the green monster of jealousy creeps up behind you and you avert your eyes from the scene. 

When you turn back to your drink, now more water than strawberry daiquiri, you catch the look on Wonwoo’s face.

There’s a devious little smirk on his silly little cat boy face and you want to slap it off of him.

“Quit it, Jeon.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Cho.”

“I mean that look on your face,” You say with an index finger wagging in front of his glasses, “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t have a look on my face,” He laughs as he sips on his glass of Coke.

“Yes, you do! It's a sneaky little face,” you pout, “Don’t you have your own love life to worry about?”

His smirk grows into a full on grin, his teeth on full display, “First of all, no I don’t. And second, so you admit it? You’re in love with Soonyoung.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears. You don’t dare to say anything out loud for fear of who might hear because you don’t know what to say.

“Wonwoo I—“

“You know, you don’t have to worry about that,” he says, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Not with Soonyoung. Never with Soonyoung.”

Not long after everyone had their fill of the cake Ahreum lovingly baked for the occasion, people started splitting off into their own little groups around the bar to talk or have more drinks. Still, you were seated next to Soonyoung, but this time making a conscious effort to keep a comfortable distance between you two. His arm may still be draped around your chair, but this time you rested your crossed arms on the table in front of you, trying your best to stay focused on the story Heejin was telling.

You almost jolt in shock at the warm hand that rests on your knee and the breath at your ear when Soonyoung whispers, “Let’s go ahead?”

When you turn to him and try not to flinch at the close proximity between the two of you.

“You look like you’re about to nod off,” he chuckles.

Humming and nodding in agreement with him, Soonyoung clears his throat and announces, “You guys keep going but we’re headed out.”

There’s a chorus of disappointed “awws” that follow as the two of you stand and Soonyoung helps you into the coat you brought for the cold. When you turn to wave goodbye to everyone still at the party, you see Wonwoo giving you a shit eating grin and you fail to stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him one last time that night.

“D’you have fun tonight?” Soonyoung asks, eyes flicking over to you for a second before turning back to the road before you.

“Hhm, yeah. I’m glad I went,” You say, “I almost bailed for a second.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You consider for a moment if you should tell Soonyoung about your afternoon before the party.  But you worry that maybe trauma dumping on him after having had such a good evening with his friends and teammates would sour the day. So you keep your mouth shut and try to wrack your brain for an acceptable reason to turn down an invite.

“I bombed at practice today,” He says out of nowhere but lightly, with a bit of a chuckle, and you know that a corner of his lip is upturned.

The focus you put in trying not to turn your head and watch him drive is commendable. You try your utmost best not just keep your eyes on him as he does the most mundane of things.

“Got into trouble for it, your dad yelled at me and all. Said I wasn’t focused.” He clicks his tongue, shakes his head and continues telling you about his day. “It didn’t get better of course, ‘cause I started overthinking it and I got worse. But you know what?”

“What?” You ask, finally looking over at him as he pulls to a stop at a busy intersection.

The red glow of the traffic light streams in through the car’s windshield despite the heavy tint and washes Soonyoung in a moody glow, only cut by the flashing lights of the LED billboards that are so commonplace in Gangnam.

“It ended,” He says as he turns to you as well, the red light offering him a respite, “Training ended and I got in my car and drove over to that speakeasy. I celebrated my teammate’s birthday, had a bunch of laughs with my friends, and now I’m driving you home.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll go back to training and try again. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll talk to your dad again and ask for his help. And when that ends, I’ll come home and I’ll probably ask you if you want to go for a walk.”

He ends all of that with a big, bright, beautiful smile that makes your lower lip wobble. Soonyoung is so wonderful and your heart feels so vulnerable. You’re worried that you might end up going off on a litany about how your school girl crush from nearly sixteen years ago had awoken from its dormant slumber on a chilly evening in March, and was wreaking havoc in your heart and brain as it fed on every right and perfect thing Soonyoung had said to you since then.

But you keep it in. 

Instead you let out a shudder of a breath and tell Soonyoung about your day.

“I feel like I’m running out of time,” You start, “Which is stupid because I’m like, twenty eight and probably not dying soon, and I know you probably won’t get it because you’ve had a career since you were like, nineteen, and that’s why I don’t think I wanted to get into it with you but also because I don’t want you to think about how pathetic I am.”

Saying all of that in one breath almost has you panting, but more than anything, it’s that worry you’ve been trying to bury in your chest all these weeks, pretending you were above it all, that’s been weighing you down.

“You know how I’ve been trying to get a new job right?”

He makes a sound of agreement, not wanting to cut you off while you were clearly in the middle of a tirade.

“Well, I feel like I’ve been floundering, you know? I put in all these applications and I do the interviews, and I do great because I know I can turn it on when I have to but it’s just such a fucking drag!” 

You know you’re whining but you’ve already started and everything is coming out like a tidal wave from your mouth.

“I’ve been at this for months and today I got an email that sounds really promising but I still haven’t really gotten hired and I feel like I’m going around in circles with these companies, trying to convince them I’m the shit but it’s not like I really care all that much about them, really.”

“I just don’t want to keep wasting my time doing nothing and being no one.”

Silence. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Then I kind of got into it with my dad this afternoon,” You finally let out, “I was… I was planning to come see you at practice today. And he kind of, I don’t know… He kind of told me I couldn’t be there. That it was private practice today and that none of the girls were going to be there either and that… that maybe I was overstaying my welcome when I had no affiliation with the Diamonds.”

Soonyoung’s gripping the steering wheel firmer, from what you can tell and you want to ease his mind, but your own was aflame with the indignation you had felt that afternoon.

“I thought about skipping on Ahreum’s invite because well, I didn’t know who would be there, but I knew Ahreum and I kind of know Mingyu, and I knew that place was going to be chock full of beautiful, famous, successful people, and I just didn’t know if I could handle that after everything, you know?”

You don’t realize that you’ve made it all the way home throughout your tiny meltdown and Soonyoung has been idling in front of your family’s garden gate for a minute or two.

“Then?” Soonyoung prompts.

“What do you mean?” You’re confused.

“Then what happened?” He clarifies.

“What do you mean ‘then what happened?’ Soonyoung you were there,” You point out with an arched brow. You’re a little peeved.

“Just play along, Peaches. Don’t be a soil sport,” He encourages.

“Fine. Then I got dressed and went straight to Mingyu’s party. I helped set up, and then you guys arrived, and we had dinner and drinks, and talked about movies, and… we got in your car, and we talked, and now you’re dropping me off at home.”

“I think our days turned out pretty okay in the end,” Soonyoung says with a gentle smile.

Oh.

Oh.

soonyoung 🥅 Today 1:47PM

ddalgi misses you ig :/ come back from jeju fasterrrrr

Yes maam! And I'll make sure we win too Don't want to upset Ddalgi with a poor showing

of course he'd be so upset

This weeks feels like its going by sooooo slowly Will you be at the gala?

hate to say it but ya

I'll see you then :)

The gala Soonyoung had mentioned was the Gangnam District Arts Gala. The exclusive gala was to be televised live and the guestlist was filled with brand execs, celebrity performers, and A-List socialites. 

The press release was that they were pledging obscenely large donations to uplift the arts and encourage the young, creative minds of students in schools with underdeveloped arts programs. It was a fairly new development and was something that you felt was just an excuse for rich people to dress up, drink, and bask in each other’s wealth.

Initially the idea of an entire sports team and their managers and staff being a part of such an event was uncommon. You understood if a handful of the first team was present, personalities that were instantly affiliated with big name brands like Mingyu, Minghao, Jeonghan, and even at times, Soonyoung. All the connections with the Diamonds instantly made sense when you found out the brains behind the operation.

The whole thing was planned under the watchful eye of Choi Seoah, Seungcheol’s business-mogul younger sister and Jeonghan’s girlfriend. 

If you paid more attention to local entertainment news you’d be more aware of how Seoah wanted this gala to be a “family affair” and having her childhood team and Gangnam representatives, the Cheongdam Diamonds, to not only attend but also co-host the event was her goal.

You hated it as soon as you heard about it, only to somehow be roped into it last minute.

All of that led to you sitting next to your dad at the dinner table, waiting for the team to arrive from their red carpet appearance. As your dad’s (begrudging) plus one, you were free from being in front of the public eye, with the coaching staff opting to come through a different entrance. But with the first team being the event’s hosts, they were considered one of the highlights of the evening.

There was a commotion as soon as they stepped inside the venue, and rightfully so. You knew these events were always somehow about the fashion, and even you weren’t exempted from the frills and frivolities of looking good for an evening. But nothing could have prepared you for how Soonyoung would be dressed this evening.

If there was ever an expert at having their breath being taken away at the sight of Soonyoung, you would certainly be a credible candidate. Soonyoung was dressed in smart pinstripe pants and a blazer speckled with sparkling gems, but the focal point of his look had been the sheer black tank top he was wearing underneath. You had felt your throat go dry and the hairs on your arms raise when he came through the doors and the team was led to their seats.

You spend much of the night willing Soonyoung to look your way, but with him being the captain of the team meant to be the figureheads of the event, he’s got his hands full speaking to other honored guests and VIPs wanting to get a chance to meet him. 

There’s a pit in your stomach where jealousy collects and starts to overflow everytime a beautiful, statuesque woman comes close to him, whispers in his ear for him to hear her better, and laughs at his jokes. You know they’re funny, and whatever joke it is, you’re sure you’ve heard it before and laughed harder.

The silliness of your mindset looms over your head like an angry cloud and you can’t help as it sours your mood even when Ahreum’s girl group comes on to perform their latest song. When it ends she forgoes sitting back with her group and you catch her slipping away with Mingyu as you had excused yourself to go to the lady’s room.

Your neck feels stiff from having to crane it to get a decent view of Soonyoung’s table the whole night but being outside of the main venue gives you a second to breathe and for you to ease your mind. When you spot a line leading out of the closest bathroom, you decide it and opt to look around the intricately designed foyer. You empty your mind as you run your gloved finger along the edge of a gilded art frame, glistening under the flickering light of a nearby decorative candle.

“I told you I’d find you,” comes a voice from behind you that spooks you so bad, you tip the decoration you were toying with off the edge of the table.

His years of practice honing his reflexes kick in and Soonyoung’s able to catch the frame before it crashes to the ground. He places it back on the table carefully, no one the wiser about its almost demise.

“What did I say about coming up behind me like that, Soonyoung!” You chastise raising a hand to slap him playfully on the chest. You stop short when your eyes catch his outfit once again and how you could see his skin so clearly even through the opaque black fabric.

Soonyoung catches your hand mid air and brings it to his lips, pressing them lightly against the silky fabric of your gloves and looks down at you, “You clean up good, peaches.”

Your skin burns so hot you feel sweat start to dot the back of your neck and you tear your hand away from him. You pretend to be unaffected, giving him a playful roll of your eyes, “You haven’t even seen the half of it yet, Kwon.”

The two of you have found yourselves in a quieter hallway, away from prying eyes and smartphones with a million megapixel cameras. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen each other and the weight of the albeit short time away from each other lifts from your mind.

“Have you been good?”

“Mmhhm,” You hum, “Better now.”

As much as you wish you could whisk him away from the party forever, you know you have to give him back to his teammates. To your surprise, Soonyoung pulls up a chair from a vacant table next to theirs and situates it right next to where he sits down.

You gawk at him for a second, unsure if you could fuck up the seating arrangement at a whim, but before he says anything, a tall elegant woman situates herself on Jeonghan’s lap and drapes a slender arm around his shoulders.

“Seoah, this is Mr. Cho’s daughter,” Jeonghan says and you straighten up with a start, offering your name and hand for his girlfriend to shake.

“Finally, we meet properly!” She says with a tinkling laugh, “Hannie’s told me all about you and Soonie. Come, sit!”

Upon her insistence you situate yourself on the chair Soonyoung had pulled up just as Ahreum and Mingyu arrive at the table, panting, and Ahreum having changed out of her performance costume into a pretty pale pink dress, her hair flowing down her back in pretty waves.

When she notices you seated at the table, she lets go of Mingyu’s hand to run over to you with a hug and a squeal of “Unnie, you’re here!”

Had Seungcheol and Sunhee been in attendance, there’s no doubt they would be seated at this table with the rest of you, and it comes to you belatedly that you were seated at the WAG table. Weeks earlier and you might have been uncomfortable at that fact, displeased with being out of place, but the longer you think about it, the more you wished that it could be the norm for you.

You’d been toying with the idea in your mind for a few days now, that maybe, just maybe, you did want to be a WAG. Maybe what’s been going on between you and Soonyoung wasn’t just a friendship that was long delayed. 

Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to indulge in the prospect of Soonyoung reciprocating your feelings, and that this long standing crush was no longer unreciprocated.

The conversation between you and the rest of the table’s occupants was light and fun and with Seoah calling for more champagne every so often, you felt the tension at your shoulders melt away. Even when your father had dropped by, asking if you’d be riding back home with him, you smiled at him brightly, saying you’d find your own ride back.

You don’t miss the nod and salute Soonyoung gives him from beside you.

When you let out an unintentional yawn, the alcohol making your eyelids droop slightly, Soonyoung pushes back the sleeve of his blazer to check the time.

“We can head out if you want,” He says, “I’m sure Ddlagi’s waiting for us.”

Your heart soars at his words. You nod at him and stand as he holds his hand out to pull you up.

“Alright, that’s a wrap for the two of us,” He says, tugging off his blazer jacket, “I’ll see you guys on Monday. Ahreum, Seoah, lovely as always.”

Alarm bells are ringing and sirens are blaring in your head as Soonyoung’s bare arms come into view and you can see how the muscles of his back and stomach move beneath his skin as he waves and motions for you to follow him.

Soonyoung goes up behind you, steadying you in your heels, and places his blazer over your bare shoulders—the heat from his clothing warming you up in a split second. Ahreum’s giggle from behind you catches your attention and you manage to see her wink from the corner of your eye.

“Bye, everyone!” You greet, “Thanks for letting me crash your table.”

“Any time, lovely!” Seoah says with a flippant wave of her hand, “I’ll try to make it to lunch with you girls next time, please be there!”

“Have fun, unnie!” Ahreum calls out and you don’t know whether to smile or curse her as you and Soonyoung walk away.

“I like sitting with the WAGs,” You say kind of mindlessly as you stare out of the window, watching as Gangnam passes you and Soonyoung by.

“Yeah?” He says, encouraging you to go on.

“Yup,” You say with a pop, “It feels like I’m part of a sisterhood or something when I’m with them.”

“Yeah, they all got really close in no time, especially when Tiny came into the picture,” Soonyoung recalls, “Seoah and Sunhee are pretty much sisters now, so it was exciting for them to have someone new join in.”

“I hope they’ll welcome me as warmly,” You blurt out.

Fuck. Idiot.

There’s a beat of silence and you feel yourself floundering as if you were underwater. 

“What do you mean?” Soonyoung asks, cutting into the silence.

You keep your eyes trained out of the window, willing him to let it the fuck go, but you know he won’t.

He’s about to turn to your street and you consider for a split second if it’d be feasible for you to jump out of his Maserati right this very second and hide under your sheets. Soonyoung does you a kindness by not saying anything until he pulls up in front of your house, saving you the awkwardness of having to walk home with him from his house like you usually do.

You try to quickly unbuckle your seatbelt but the second you turn your head to look for the button to press, Soonyoung gently takes your chin in between his fingers and brings your face closer to his.

In this position there’s no way for you to escape his gaze and under it you feel like you’re on fire.

“I’ll ask again,” Soonyoung starts in a whisper, as if he spoke any louder that bubble that surrounded you would pop and shatter this very moment, “What did you mean?”

This close and you can take him in, really look at him, smell him, breathe him.

“I mean,” you say slowly, gathering all the nerves you can muster, “That I want to sit on the WAG bench and cheer your name during games. I want to wear your jersey and have you dedicate saves for me.”

You gulp as you feel yourself grow in conviction, “I want to hold your trophies with you at the end of the season and bad mouth refs who give out shitty calls when you have to deal with a penalty. I want it all, Soonyoung. I want it with you.”

There it was, laid out in front of him, plain as day and no way to misinterpret. Your silly teenage fantasies had followed you into adulthood and had grown into real life yearning, hoping that the boy you had watched grow up into the most wonderful man would just take you out of your misery and say yes, that he too had felt the same tugging at his heart when he was around you. 

Soonyoung’s silence was killing you as the seconds felt like hours but when his fingers twitched beneath your chin, your heart gave off a thunderous thump, and he pulled you in closer, and your eyes slipped shut.

You let out a breath through parted lips and you feel the warmth of Soonyoung’s own shaky exhale on your lower lip. Just as you feel his lip press against your own–

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

In a flash your eyes fly open and you pull yourself away from him. Soonyoung is shellshocked at the speed at which you put distance between the two of you and how you scramble to successfully free yourself from his presence.

“Wait–wait a second, listen to me!” He tries to say, but everything sounds like a garbled mess to you.

You feel like you’re underwater again, your nose flaring as you try to get as much air into your lungs. You can feel your lips turning downwards and the telltale wobble of your lower lip. The heat and sting from behind your eyes tell you that you’re seconds away from falling apart.

How stupid. How stupid to think that after all this time he would see you as anything other than his coach’s daughter. His coach’s stupid, pathetic daughter who couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t achieve anything even after all this time.

When you free yourself from the mess of the seatbelts and you’re able to wrangle the door of his car open, you stomp out, nearly tripping over yourself in your stupid heels. Soonyoung gets out as well and tries to call out to you without causing a scene.

You’re about to open the gate to your house when you realize you’re still wearing his blazer. You’ve grown comfortable in it and the warmth of him, and it's agony as you rip it off, turn around and throw it in his face.

“Go fuck yourself, Soonyoung.”

You expect your anger and grief to fuel a tirade but you find yourself moving so slowly and so cautiously around your own home. You had guided the front door shut so that only the clicking of the locks and the springs in the knob disturbed the silence. You pressed your back against the door and held your breath as you watched the shadows move on the walls as Soonyoung pulled out of your family’s driveway. 

Only when you were doused in darkness could you slowly exhale.

You feel so much smaller than you are as you tiptoe up the stairs, clutching your heels to your chest, and lifting the skirt of your dress. You had felt so beautiful tonight, only to come home feeling more rotten and ugly than you ever have in your life.

When you close your bedroom door behind you, you turn to the Golden Retriever curled up by your pillows and you sniffle. Then the first tear drops when you think of how you’re supposed to let Ddlagi know that Soonyoung won’t be coming over anymore. You bury your face into Ddalgi’s coat and allow the sobs to wrack your body.

You had always thought it would be beneath you to cry over a boy. 

Feeling disappointment, anger, or sadness you would understand, it would only be normal to do so. But you felt like your body was caving in on you, the embarrassment of his rejection, the idea that you had misread all the queues, that you were deluded this whole time, thinking that maybe after all these, you would finally be worth a second thought to Soonyoung.

While the thought of losing him as a lover hurt you, the idea that you may lose him as a friend forever after what you had done has you shedding more tears. You took bits and pieces of every walk you’d been on, every movie you watched, the dinners you ate, and hid them away in your heart because you had longed for Soonyoung for so long, that all these moments were truly treasured.

But you’re also angry.

You’re angry because you know there must have been something. Sunhee had seen it that day when you came to practice, Ahreum had thought you were a couple just from photos, and Wonwoo, Wonwoo had reassured you that with Soonyoung you hadn’t a thing to worry about.

Have you all misunderstood? It couldn’t have all been in your head. Some part of it must have been true, and maybe still is. 

Your anger sets you into motion. Despite having been the one to walk away in anger, you feel like maybe you were entitled to an explanation. If you were going to cut Soonyoung off from your life from here on out, you wanted to do it on your own terms.

In the shower, you worry that you were speedrunning through the stages of grief. From how immensely you felt for Soonyoung and for just how long you’ve been carrying a torch for him. For the chance that he’d look your way and think of you as someone more than just your father’s daughter who had watched him from where she sat doing her homework.

You want to yell at him. You want to curse him and shove him and tell him how much you felt for him. Maybe that way he would understand how much he hurt you.

You dress quickly and haphazardly, not caring how you look, because you’ve let him see you look worse in the past weeks, grown so comfortable in his presence to truly be yourself around him. All your past actions feel like double edged swords. On one hand you were elated, so taken with how things had panned out before this evening and on the other, you felt the dread of regret, of sharing so much of yourself, and so willingly, to someone who could walk away without a second thought.

As you rush down the stairs you childishly you wonder if your father could kick him off the team for breaking your heart.

You make a conscious effort to close up after yourself quietly, guiding the door shut gently, just as you had earlier that evening. When you turn around, your heart falls to your stomach at the sight before you.

Soonyoung stands in front of your gate looking just as he did that first night he walked with you and Ddalgi. Soft, barefaced, and dressed in a ratty hoodie and sweats, you find your false bravado whittling away in his presence. His ability to render you speechless felt so unfair but you can’t help but acquiesce to it as you always do.

You loved him like this, just him, the him you had grown so used to and so comfortable around, and so in love with.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

And that’s why you don’t stop him when he unlatches the gate and walks up towards you. You don’t stop him when he goes to stand right in front of you, towering over you and bowing his head to be closer to you. You don’t stop him when he takes your face into his hands, tilting it ever so slightly so your eyes are locked. You don’t stop him when he uses his thumb to wipe away at a stray tear that betrays the strong front you wanted to put on.

You don’t stop him when he says, “I’m sorry for what I did. And I’m sorry if this is selfish, but I’ll never forgive myself if you think I don’t want you, that you don’t fill my every fucking waking moment, that I could let you walk away like you did.”

Your chin is trembling with the effort of keeping yourself together but a ragged sob escapes your mouth as you try to make sense of what Soonyoung’s saying.

Your chin is trembling with the effort of keeping yourself together but a ragged sob escapes your mouth as you try to make sense of what Soonyoung’s saying.

The hard look of determination on his face softens at your reaction and he shushes you, tries to ease your thundering heart but how can you when he says, “I have wanted you for so long. How could you not have known?” and finally presses his lips to yours.

Soonyoung was fifteen when he got the shock of his life

He was in the middle of a scrimmage game against the other members of his squad when he caught Coach Cho Woonjae coming down from the second pitch. His hands were already sweating in his gloves but he felt flames lick at his feet, willing himself to move quicker, react faster, anything to catch the attention of the living legend that was walking his way.

They wrapped up the game with his team managing a 1-0 win, extending his scrimmage clean sheet record. He made a show of cheering his team on, clapping them on the back and showering them in praises.

Wonwoo had raised a skeptical brow at him, clearly having noticed his odd behavior.

“You’re scaring me,” Wonwoo commented as he rubbed the sweat from his eyes.

“Fuck off,” Soonyoung laughed, “Coach Cho is watching.”

Soonyoung was eager for their coach to wrap up their training, he had wanted to go up to his idol so badly, to ask him if he saw how he played, if he had improved in any way, or if he had any wisdom to impart from one goalkeeper to another.

It turned out that Soonyoung didn’t have to do anything at all. Once the final team huddle had dispersed, Coach Cho had come over to Soonyoung himself, clapping him on the back and greeting him with a “Good job today, Kwon.”

Soonyoung tried his best not to sputter, gave him a curt bow of his head and said, “Thank you so much, Coach. I learned from the best. I meant from you! Because, you know, you’re the best.”

I’m a fucking idiot, Soonyoung thought to himself.

Coach Cho could only laugh at his blunder and offered him a thanks, son, so at the very least Soonyoung could take pride in having been funny. But when his laughter died down, he had affixed Soonyoung with a look that had been, at that time, unreadable.

Then, with no preamble, Coach Cho asked him if he could take his daughter to a school dance.

When he stumbled into the locker room, the rest of his teammates were already undressing, pulling out toiletries from their lockers and a fresh change of clothes. Soonyoung was still shell shocked when he sat down next to Wonwoo, body moving on autopilot as he dodged gangly elbows and stray towels being tossed around.

“What’d Coach Cho say to you?” Wonwoo asked in a hushed voice.

“He asked me if I could take Jiae to a dance. I-if I could be her date.”

Wonwoo’s jaw had dropped comically, not having expected that.

“Well?” He had urged.

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean well?”

“Well what did you say, dumbass?” He asked with a flick to Soonyoung’s to ear.

“I–” Soonyoung had trouble voicing it out, because now that he was repeating it, it sounded even more stupid than when he had blurted it out to Coach Cho, “I said I couldn’t.”

“What?!” Wonwoo had yelled, pulling the attention of some of the players sitting by them.

“I can’t go that day,” Soonyoung had tried to reason out, but the more he thought about it, the more he regretted saying no so quickly. 

“What could you possibly be doing that is somehow more important than taking Coach Cho’s daughter to a dance?”

Soonyoung drops his head into his hands, groaning out an answer.

“What was that?” Wonwoo taunted.

“I said, I’m getting my braces out.”

Word of Coach Cho’s request had spread amongst the Under-18 and Under-15 team like wildfire and Soonyoung had never felt so embarrassed in his life. Not because it was embarrassing to have been asked, but because he had said no. 

But for many of those he had called teammates, it had become a running joke that maybe they too would be tapped to take you to this school dance, and it made Soonyoung’s blood boil at how crass the thoughts of some of his teammates were.

“I still can’t believe you said no,” Youngho had said to Soonyoung when he had dropped his backpack onto the bench in front of his locker. 

Soonyoung’s shoulders were heavy with the fatigue from his commute from school and this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. He wanted to run a few laps, do a few drills, then pummel whoever his team was playing against during the scrimmage to the ground.

His teammate’s thoughts and comments were far from what he wanted to deal with that day.

Wonwoo had given him a warning look, to just ignore it and move on, and against his usual instinct, Soonyoung followed his best friend’s advice.

“Dude, imagine if you had said yes and like, impressed her or whatever.” Youngho had started up again, “You’d probably make it all the way to the first team on Cho’s good graces alone.”

But there was only so much that Soonyoung could stomach.

“Anyway, I’m sure Cho’ll ask someone else after practice tonight,” Youngho continued, “She must really want to fuck a footballer or something.”

He doesn’t think he’d ever moved so fast in his life, but within seconds Soonyoung had Youngho up against a locker, his body hit the metal and alerted everyone in the room that a fight was about to break out. 

Soonyoung had no intention of actually hurting anyone, it wasn’t in his nature, but his blood had boiled at how something so innocent as an invite to a dance was suddenly being used to dirty your name without you even knowing.

“You’re disgusting,” Soonyoung had said through gritted teeth, “Even if that was the case, I’m sure she wouldn’t stoop as low as you.”

Even as one of the tallest players on the team, that day Youngho looked small under the fire of Soonyoung’s rage.

Shortly after the confrontation in the lockers and both Soonyoung and Youngho’s one week suspension from training, any talk of dances and daughters had died down just as all topics of locker room discussion did. 

But it lived in Soonyoung’s brain incessantly.

From the moment Coach Cho had asked him, he had rewinded back to every single memory of you he could recall. Soonyoung had considered you a permanent fixture at the HYBE training center. He could recall that very first time he came into Coach Cho’s office after training, and you were seated by the coffee table with your nose in something or another. 

Back then you had been so intimidating and snooty that he never dared to talk to you even as he waited for his turn to talk to your dad.

As he grew more comfortable in his place at the training center, no longer gobsmacked at every shiny trophy or starstruck at every first team player that passed him in the hallways, you had started to look more warm towards him too. He was proud to have gotten a smile at the very least, when he would wave to you goodbye.

The years that followed were spent relentlessly chasing his dream, spending every minute that he could to prove his mettle at his sport, and that left him with very little time for anything else.

It wasn’t that Soonyoung never had anyone catch his eye, he just never really did anything about it. Well, that and no one had ever expressed any interest in him. He tries not to focus on that, despite how he enjoys the spoils of the wars waged between the girls vying for Wonwoo’s affections. He never longed for that kind of attention.

But when he received it from you, despite how it was through that awkward conversation of an invite from your father, he considered it, even if it was just for a smidge of a second.

The smidge of a second grew into minutes, then hours, then days. When Soonyoung found himself wondering why you hadn’t visited the training center in weeks, he started to worry.

“What if she thinks I don’t like her?” Soonyoung said to Wonwoo.

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo asked as he strapped his shin guards on.

“Jiae,” Soonyoung whispered, “What if she thinks I don’t like her.”

Wonwoo could only snort, “You bet she thinks you don’t like her, you said no to her dad.”

Soonyoung groaned as he hit himself in the face with his gloves.

“Why does it matter,” Wonwoo pushed, “You like her?”

Soonyoung could only blush.

“Soonyoung, please don’t tell me you have a crush on your idol’s daughter?” 

The silence was deafening.

Soonyoung keeps his crush on you like a dirty secret.

It was probably the world’s worst kept dirty secret, but nevertheless, Soonyoung persisted. 

After having blown the chance to take you to a school dance with the blessing of your father, he had been hoping to get the chance to make it up to you. He just wanted to know, did you like him like that? Why hadn’t anyone else on the squad gotten asked to take you to the dance but him? Why him?

Your presence at the training center had gone from few and far in between to once in a blue moon. And as much as Soonyoung hated to say it, it made him sad. He doesn’t want to assume that it was because of him, but just not being able to see you at all for weeks and eventually months at a time was a departure from what he was so used to.

Sometimes he went into Coach Cho’s office just in the hopes that he'd see you seated by the coffee table, reading a book, and he could just wave hi.

After about a year of your scarce training visits, Soonyoung realizes he may have underestimated his crush on you. While there was little he could actually do in between school, training, and hagwon, that didn’t stop him from silly little daydreams and fantasies of seeing you in the stands at one of their official league matches.

That year Soonyoung and Wonwoo had officially joined the U-18 team that Coach Cho personally handled and it was the start of the most grueling period of football growth of Soonyoung’s life. With a defensive expert leading the team, there were suddenly more eyes on him, greater expectations, and the added pressure of playing in front of his hero almost every single day.

There were many nights that Soonyoung thought training would end on a much lighter note if you were watching.

The first time Soonyoung saw you in months was on a random Wednesday evening when he was on clean up duty. He was trailing behind the rest of the guys, wheeling the cart of training balls to the correct storage rooms when he saw you leaning against the wall by your father’s office.

He doesn’t know if you had seen him, but he ducked into the storage room regardless, self conscious of how he looked post-training with grass stains on his white kit and his hair stuck haphazardly to his face.

From where he was hiding he simply appreciated seeing you in the flesh again after so long. He tried to make a mental tally of things that may have changed since he last saw you, maybe your hair was a little longer, or your lips were colored a different shade by a new lip gloss. Soonyong didn’t know, he was always bad at those things, all he knew at that time was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and that he had missed you.

Wonwoo thought it was a horrible idea. And in hindsight, he was right—but hindsight was always 20/20 and Soonyoung believed back then that Wonwoo was almost laughably blind. So, being Soonyoung, he had ignored his best friend’s wise words and jumped head straight into his plan.

The plan being to surprise you and woo you at your school dance. Soonyoung had thanked his lucky stars when his cousin had mentioned it off hand that she was going to dress shopping for a school event that was coming up. Soonyoung usually tuned this kind of talk out when he spent weekends with his extended family, but the mention of a school dance had perked up his ears and suddenly he was begging on his hands and knees for his cousin to take him as her designated plus one.

Very rarely did Soonyoung use his placement in the Cheongdam Diamonds’ U-18 team as leverage, but even his cousin couldn’t deny how impressive it would look to take him to the dance.

What he didn’t expect was having to fend off everyone that assumed he was dating his snooty older cousin.

He didn’t expect coming face to face with you before he was ready to sweep you off of your feet.

He didn’t expect that you’d turn your back at him instantly, and take another boy’s hand in your own.

He didn’t expect how badly it would hurt to have been rejected without even getting to say a word.

He tried. He tried to keep away, to be satisfied having that brief teenage crush on you. He had fallen into bed with the most beautiful models and some of the most promising rising actresses, but found himself going home thinking about that seventeen year old girl who had turned away from him and danced with another boy.

Soonyoung supposes, after a while, that maybe he doesn’t deserve you. He was a far cry from what your father was at his age and having been raised in the game, the lifestyle that he now had, it was possible that you would be far from impressed. 

On particularly bad nights, Soonyoung thinks of the worst: that maybe you despised him and what he stood for as a professional athlete. Maybe you had sworn to absolutely never be with an athlete, that they were all good for nothing playboys and tricksters. On those nights Soonyoung tried to think of the positive: You’d probably never date any of his teammates.

The spark that set off a wildfire in his heart that night he came across you and Ddalgi had been warming his body for weeks. He’s never felt as weightless in his life as when he had managed to place himself in your life after so many years. He tried to stay satisfied, happy to be your friend and to stay by your side in any way, shape, or form you preferred.

But it was so difficult.

Every time he got close to you, he could feel the way his heart thumped louder, faster, telling him that you were here, just out of reach, but if he just put out his hand and took your own, then maybe you could calm it, satisfy it.

But Soonyoung’s made nearly a million and one mistakes when it came to you. And this evening was the worst. Despite his best efforts, he almost always seemed to fuck it up with you, and he couldn’t believe he had managed to hurt you to the point of tears.

He’d spend every second, minute, hour of every day making it up to you if he could, to lavish you in words that would put your mind at ease, make your heart race, and set your skin aflame.

Soonyoung’s made nearly a million and one mistakes when it came to you, but pressing his lips to your throat, and holding you down onto his bed to hear you sigh out his name, would not be one of them.

This evening felt like a dream, Soonyoung thought. In his rational mind there was no way any of it could have happened outside of his imagination. From the second he had pressed his lips to yours, he thought that he was on borrowed time, that just as easily as he had gotten you, you could slip away, change your mind, turn him away.

But when you had pulled away from him and your eyes had met for the first time since the revelation that there were so many years of yearning between you both, your gaze had set his blood aflame.

There was no other way about it. He had to have you.

It was a bold move to take your hand, something he had been longing to do for ages, and tug you towards the direction of his own house. It seemed awfully presumptuous but the way you gripped onto his arm, wrapping your fingers around his bicep and nodded in agreement was all the confirmation he needed.

While your first kiss was wistful, misty, and so long delayed, Soonyoung had made sure that the following kiss was the exact opposite. The second he had closed the door behind the two of you, he had pressed you against it, held the back of your head, tilted it backward just slightly and kissed you breathless. When you had groaned into the kiss, Soonyoung had taken the opportunity to lick into your mouth, his tongue a welcome intrusion in your own. Soonyoung’s head was spinning as he let out a breathy moan of his own.

You tasted of toothpaste and smelled of coconut conditioner, your hair still slightly damp and cold from your recent shower and Soonyoung wanted to be wrapped in it, in all of you.

At the very back of Soonyoung’s brain he wondered if he was being too eager, if it was so fucking uncool for him to want you so badly. But this evening was no longer about rationality. It was about finally giving in, it was finally time for you to both let out the breaths you’d been holding in for far too long.

Soonyoung wanted you to know that he was here and he would be here for as long as you wanted him. If that meant until next week, two years from now, forever, or even if just for tonight, he would gladly accept it.

“More, Soonyoung,” You had whispered in between small, softer kisses, and stuck out your lower lip in a pout. He couldn’t resist you.

He had playfully bit on the fullness of your lip, licked at it with his tongue, then brought it into his mouth to suck. He watched as your eyelids fluttered shut and you wrapped your arms around his head, elbows hooked over his shoulders. It was easy work for him to lift you up by your thighs and carry you up the stairs.

You asked for more so more you would get. Every kiss that followed felt bruising, when Soonyoung felt that you were short of breath, he’d pull away just to press his lips to your pulse instead, and when that wasn’t enough, he licked a hot strip onto your pulse and pressed the softest of bites, eliciting a broken moan from your lips.

He wanted to be everywhere, touch everything, hear every desperate gasp, swallow every hungry groan.

Hungry. That’s what you were.

And that’s what he’s always been.

The heat coursing through his body is almost too much for him to take, so Soonyoung quickly pulls away from you with a displeased sigh. He grabs at the bottom of his hoodie to pull it up and over his head before diving back in to press his lips to yours. He refuses to have his mouth parted from yours for too long now that he finally knows what you taste like. 

His fingers itch to feel your skin and while your thighs had been soft, smooth, and pliant in his hands when he carried you up to his room, he needed more. He needed to know how your skin would feel pressed against his own, how your thighs would feel wrapped around his waist.

You must want the same thing because you follow his lead and pull your own hoodie up and off.

In the locker rooms, there are plenty of mindless and stupid questions thrown about. It wasn’t too long ago that the conversation of “ass or tits” was brought up. It was met with loud jeering and playfully scandalized hooting.

Soonyoung had very cheekily said, “Her heart” and was met with boos and fuck yous from his teammates. If you asked him again today, he’d finally have a proper answer.

“You’re not in a bra,” Soonyoung says in a whisper, eyes zoning onto your chest.

“I’m undressing for you, Soonyoung. That’s kind of the point.”

“I-i-yeah, I get that but. That whole time? You weren’t in a bra?”

“Well, yeah,” you start leaning back on your elbows, “I was planning on going to bed straight after yelling at you, but… well, here we are.”

His mind goes back to all those weeks prior to tonight when he had greeted you at your front gate and you were wearing this exact same outfit.

When his eyes meet yours it seems you’ve come to the same realization as him.

“Do you like them, Soonyoung?” You ask, one hand coming to grasp at the fullness of your left breast and barely fitting in your palm, and the other hand traces your right nipple with a finger slowly; teasing.

“Fuck yes,” He says, unable to hold it in, “Were you walking around me these last few weeks without a bra on? Tits just out of my reach?”

The fake coy look on your face makes him so painfully hard but he tries to play it cool, “Yes, captain. Won’t you like to give them a touch?”

He shakes his head no, and you’re almost confused until he says, “Let me have a taste of you, baby.”

Baby.

Soonyoung’s pulling all these moves he’s been too terrified to try, despite all the times he’s been openly flirtatious and he’s tried to push the boundaries between friendship and that something more.

But he’s always wanted to try and call you baby.

He doesn’t see what your reaction is like because just as he says it, he leans down to lick a broad stripe onto your breast and captures your right nipple between his teeth, the tip of his tongue playing with the stiffening bud.

The sigh you let out fills his head and it’s then that Soonyoung decides that he wants to draw every possible sound of pleasure he can from your mouth. Soonyoung knows he’s loud, mouthy, and just short of talkative in bed, but he wants to know how loud you can get, if he can have you screaming his name too.

He’s determined to make every second from here on out as pleasurable as he can but he’s been painfully hard since he had you pressed up against his front door. In an attempt to get you as riled up as he can, he switches his hand and mouth, making sure to lavish both of your breasts in licks and kisses, litter them with small nips and love bites, fit them in his hands almost painfully, so the memory of his hands on you sticks. 

Soonyoung could spend hours praising your chest, but your litany of his name, growing breathless by the second, and the way you’re undulating your hips, trying your best to get some kind of relief finally pulls him away from where he’s be stuck in his own heady cloud of lust.

“Soonyoung, I want to make you feel good,” is what you say when he pulls away from your chest with an obscene pop, moving to press kisses on the valley between your breasts.

You almost make his brain go offline when you grab him by the long, scruffy locks of hair by his nape to lock eyes with him.

You are a vision.

The heady look in your eyes and the way you bite on your plush lower lip is just so much to Soonyoung. Its enough of a distraction that he lets you maneuver him any which way you want and he settles comfortably on his back and against the plush pillows at the head of his bed.

You stand on your knees between his legs and make quick work of untying the drawstrings of his sweats and his hands instantly fly down to yours to help you pull them off along with his underwear. He kicks them to the floor unceremoniously and you push his shoulder back lightly to have him fall back to his pillows. 

“Oh fuck!” is all he can comprehend to say when you drag your tongue from his balls to the tip of his cock, swiping at the precum that’s started to leak from his slit. Without giving him a second to recover from your initial onslaught, you sink your mouth onto his cock, holding his hip down with a firm hand to support yourself as you give way in your throat for him to slip all the way in.

Soonyoung tries to keep himself from slipping into his baser instincts, to cant his hips upward and have your nose press against his abdomen, fucking himself into your mouth. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding through his nose just as you groan around him, eyes slipping shut, and your throat clenching around the head of his cock.

Your mouth was so fucking warm and wet and your throat so tight he wonders if he’ll make it out alive from this blowjob to fuck your pussy.

You pull off him with a slight gag and a cough, but you deal with it like champ and slip your mouth over him again, this time your mouth in a perfect ‘O’ to suck on him quickly, your head bobbing and your spit spilling onto the sides of your lips and down the length of him.

The sounds are filthy and the gasp that you let out when you pull off of him to sit up slightly straighter could make a lesser man cum untouched.

Your fingers are wrapped around him by his base, staving off his impending orgasm, when you decide to blow Soonyoung’s mind again. You press your puckered lips against the side of his cock, dragging them from top to bottom repeatedly. 

When you’ve gotten him sufficiently wet with your spit, you suck on the tip of him again, collecting his precum only to pull off slightly. You lock eyes with him, part your lips, and let your tongue loll out to let a filthy mix of his precum and your spit dribble out of your mouth and onto his cock.

“You’re fucking insane,” Soonyoung breathes out with an upturned mouth.

You pump his cock once, twice, before saying, “We’re just getting started, Captain.”

He can only groan happily and let his head fall to his pillows. He’s going to have to unpack how that title coming from your mouth has him close to orgasming.

Soonyoung keeps getting surprised by the little tricks you’re pulling from thin air, but this definitely takes the top spot.

Once you’ve deemed him sufficiently wet, lubricated by your spit and his precum, you start to crawl back up his body while pressing kisses onto the prominent veins on his lower stomach. In no time he can feel himself pressing against your chest, and it becomes clear what you’re about to do.

“You’re going to let me fuck your tits?”

The smirk that spreads across your lips has him shaking his head in amusement, “You seemed to be quite taken by them.”

You were a fucking dream come true.

If Soonyoung is only ever going to have you tonight, he needs to make the most out of it. He takes the reins and switches your positions smoothly so you’re on your back in the middle of his humongous bed. He cages your body between his legs and lets his cock settle between your breasts.

You move your hands down to grasp at the sides of each breast when Soonyoung swats one away and takes another into his, pressing your fingers to his lips for a quick kiss then says, “Hands off, baby.”

He grasps a breast in each hand and squeezes, plays with each nipple with his thumbs before pressing them together to create a tight, wet heat to fuck into. Your skin is so soft and pliant as he continues to push his cock between your tits that it's starting to mess with his head.

As much as people want to put him onto a pedestal for his footballing accolades and successes, at the end of the day he’s just a guy who’s finally in bed with the girl he’s had a crush on for ages. The fucked out look on your face just from pleasuring him with your mouth and tits has him biting his tongue to keep from cumming.

Each thrust of his hips has Soonyoung closer and closer to the edge. He wants to make this last as long as he can but it never crossed his mind how you’d be able to play him like an instrument, know which strings to pluck, chords to play, to pull the most pleasure from him.

“Fuck, I want to cum on your tits,” He breathes out with a laugh. He’s done a lot of growing up, but Soonyoung feels like a teenager as he confesses this to you, “You’ll let me cum on your tits right, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out with a dumb nod of your head, “Cum on my tits, Soonyoung. Make them yours, yeah?”

Soonyoung’s always liked to fuck messy. Plenty sweat, spit, squirt, and cum is par the course when he fucked, but that was mostly for his enjoyment. When you agree to let him spill over you, to cast the assumption of ownership of your body, Soonyoung thinks you’re made for him.

After one, two, three thrusts between your breasts, Soonyoung pulls back, and grasps his cock to jerk himself off to completion, hot spurts of his sticky white cum falling onto your breasts.

You must truly be made for him because as he tries to catch his breath, kneeling over you still and pumping his cock to get hard again, you trace your fingers over your chest to collect his cum. You catch his eye as you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth and suck them clean.

You groan around two fingers and Soonyoung lets out a dark chuckle as you stick out your tongue to show him how you’ve swallowed his spend. He does the same, swiping his fingers through the mess on your tits and shoving three fingers into your awaiting mouth. Your tongue presses against them and you go to suck each one, your tongue dancing between them, not letting a single drop of him go to waste.

He can’t help it, he has to kiss you.

And Soonyoung is a master kisser.

Each time he pressed his mouth to yours, you felt your head go blurry around the edges and every thought that isn’t him simply fades away. The taste of him was addicting and the slip of his tongue against yours had you gushing despite his hands holding you by the back of the head innocently. But you didn’t want innocent, you wanted desperate, you wanted depraved, you wanted disgusting, if he would give it to you.

It doesn’t take long for him to move down your body, paying copious amounts of attention to your sensitive nipples and marked up tits, and eventually pulling down your sleep shorts.

If it was anyone else, it would be embarrassing how wet you’d gotten, but this is Soonyoung. This is Soonyoung who you’d wanted for so long, Soonyoung who had felt the same and just as strongly, Soonyoung whose touch could set you ablaze and whose one word could give you release.

You want him to know. You want him to see and taste just how riled up he’s gotten you, that maybe from this day forward, only he could press his mouth between your thighs, only his tongue could press into your hole, only his lips could wrap around your clit to make you cry out for God.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” He breathed, pressing kisses to the mound of your pubic bone, “I knew you’d taste so good.”

Just his praise has you keening, eyes slipping shut as you feel him spread your legs. He uses his fingers to part your folds and that action is enough to have you clenching around nothing, wanting so badly to be filled, with his tongue, fingers, cock, anything just as long as he could grant you some relief.

“Soonyoung, please,” You manage to whisper.

“Please what?” comes his voice, it’s almost playful, and maybe you want to kick him, but it’s so fucking hot you can feel how badly it gets to you, a sudden wave of arousal making itself known as it starts to trickle out of you.

You let out a frustrated groan, canting your hips upward uselessly as Soonyoung uses his strength to keep you in position. He moves to spread you even further with one leg hoisted over his shoulder and the other pressed flat against the bed. There was no hiding in this position, you were displayed for him, ready and open for whatever it was he wanted to do to you.

“Here’s what I’ll do,” He says, placing kisses onto your knee, moving down to your thigh slowly, “I want to taste this delicious pussy some more, get you all nice and wet, hmm? Then I want to fuck you open with my fingers.”

You nod stupidly as he speaks and you think that you may just agree to anything he says, happy to take anything he wants to give you.

“Will one be enough?” He teases, running one finger along one of your lower lips.

You open your eyes to communicate what your mouth can’t, rendered speechless by his tone of voice alone.

“No? How about two then?” Another finger joins the onslaught in framing your hole but his touch is feather-light and offers no relief whatsoever.

“Soonyoung,” is the only thing you can get out and it comes out as more of a whine. 

“Fine, seems like my girl can take three then? How greedy.”

You bite your lip and nod before saying, “I can take four, Soonyoung. You’ll give me four, right?”

There’s a mean glint in his eye as he says, “You’re perfect.”

Soonyoung eats pussy like he kisses. It’s messy and it’s deep and you’ve never had it this good. He fucks his tongue into your hole with no hesitation, licking deep and lapping at your folds like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever tasted. When he pulls away it’s only so he can move to sucking on your clit. After having teased you with his fingers earlier, it’s like he’s decided fuck that and just thought to ruin you with as much pleasure as he could pull from your body.

Moans and whimpers pour out of your mouth freely. The knowledge that there are no nosey neighbors to disturb means you can be as loud as you want. You want Soonyoung to know how well he’s pleasuring you, that he can pull these ragged breaths and pleasured sighs from you so easily just because it’s him.

When you feel the prod of two fingers at your entrance you bite your lip but a scream breaks through when you feel a third finger push into you as well. Soonyoung had gotten you so wet and prepared for him with his mouth and his tongue that you welcomed the stretch. It was incredible how each of his touches could make you feel this good.

With his fingers inside of you pumping steadily, he peppered your thighs with kisses, moving upwards towards your clit. He flattens his tongue against it and shakes his head to heighten the sensation. On instinct you want to shut your legs closed but he still has you spread open for him and the position has you twitching as you feel yourself about to cum.

“You’ll give me everything, won’t you?” He says, finally pulling away from your clit, “I want to see how hard you can cum.”

Soonyoung sits back onto his knees so he can watch when he pushes four of his fingers into you. Four fingers is a tight fit but you take it like a champ, enjoying how he stretches you open. You watch him watching you and the look of determination and the way his chest heaves has you impossibly turned on. You never thought you’d be in this position, but he is every lonely night fantasy come to life and more.

He is everything.

You enjoy how his arms look, one wrapped around your thigh to hold you open and the other flexing as he pushes his fingers into you repeatedly, gaining speed as the seconds pass. You clench around his fingers as the heat envelopes you and you feel the pressure slowly take over.

“Soonyoung,” You start as a warning, “Soonyoung, I’m gonna–I’m gonna cum!”

He says nothing but instead hastens his actions, plunging his fingers even deeper, hooking his fingers just right to press into that spot inside you that’ll have you exploding in no time.

Your own fingers scramble on his bedsheets, looking for something to keep you anchored as your hips start to buck and you can feel yourself dripping around his fingers inside you.

“Soonyoung, please please, I’m serious. I can’t hold it in,” You cry out.

“I know baby,” He says with a smirk, “Give it to me. I want it.”

It’s like he flipped a switch inside of you and in the same moment he demands you to come, that thread in your stomach snaps and you gush all over his hand and forearm. Tears slip from your eyes in relief but also shame at the mess you made of yourself, his arm, and the bed.

He pulls his fingers out of you gently and you jerk in his hold, the sensitivity starting from your cunt and spreading to your arms and legs. You let Soonyoung rearrange you on his bed but the heat simmering beneath your skin continues to fuel your lust-addled brain. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Soonyoung says, pressing kisses onto your stomach, onto your left breast, then the right, and taking your nipple between his teeth with a gentle tug, “I’ve never had anyone cum as beautiful as you.”

You hate the idea of Soonyoung being with someone that isn’t you. It’s stupid and immature but his confession earlier sets you at ease. Just as you had been with others with the assumption that being with Soonyoung was a far and unreachable dream, he too might feel the same pang of jealousy.

That jealousy rears its ugly head even now. But this time you can do something about it.

You confirm your suspicions about how much he enjoys when you thread your fingers into his hair, so you tug at his locks to bring his mouth to yours. When he licks into your mouth you think that you can taste yourself on his lips and you can’t help but press your lips to his even more.

“That was so fucking embarrassing, Soonyoung,” You sigh out when you manage to get your breathing somewhat back to normal.

Soonyoung refuses to part from you, lips sucking a bruise high on your neck, a love bite that you know will be hard to hide.

“Don’t fucking say that again,” He says between licks, sucks, and kisses, “I want to make all your orgasms that insane. Hottest woman I’ve ever been with, I’ll ever be with.”

You want to roll your eyes at him. It’s an exaggeration if not an outright bold faced lie. But you can’t help but think about it as well. You doubt anyone will ever come close to how Soonyoung has made you feel in the last few hours. The rage, the sadness, the confusion, the joy, the elation, and the euphoria–all of that had stemmed from how much you’ve longed and loved him. You fear you will never feel as strongly for anyone ever again.

You want him so much.

You want him so much that despite how sensitive you still feel, you had to have more of him.

So you push him onto his back and straddle his hips. Your center is still wet, stretched out so nicely by his fingers, and when you lower yourself to glide over his cock, you can feel how he’s recovered, already hard. 

He sits up to catch your lips in a heated kiss, riling you both up as you cover him with your wetness, “I have condoms in the drawer,” He whispers when he pulls away from you by just a fraction.

“Don’t be stupid,” You say as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t fuck you if I wasn’t clean.”

“And I know you’d be off the squad if you didn’t pass your monthlies,” You continue, now gripping him by the base of his cock.

“And I’m on the pill,” You say with a slight falter in your bravado as the head of his cock catches at your entrance, “So don’t you want to fuck me raw?”

You should have known not to challenge Soonyoung because there was never a challenge he stood down from. He pushes into you at the same time you begin to sink down on him and it causes him to slip all the way in, his cock filling you completely and the stretch leaving you speechless.

The feeling of his cock driving into you at once has the hair all over your body standing and you feel the electric shock of pleasure racing up your spine to the very top of your head.

The noise you let out is nearly demonic.

Despite the position, there’s no mistaking who is calling the shots. Just his first thrust into you had your brain turning into mush, so when Soonyoung continued to fuck up into the heat of your cunt, you had grown useless on top of him. There was no way to decipher the nonsense you were spewing, just that they were surely words of praise for how thoroughly Soonyoung was fucking you.

It should have come as no surprise that fucking a footballer meant that your stamina would be put to the test. But still, you’re wholly unprepared for how long and how hard Soonyoung could go when it came to fucking. When you had fallen into his arms, unable to hold yourself up as he fucked into you from below, he had pushed you onto your back to fuck you while he had both of your legs over one shoulder.

By then he could match you with how he could hardly keep himself shut, groaning out praises about how tight you were around him with your legs pressed together.

“On your hands and knees, baby,” He instructs as he pulls out and lets your legs fall to the bed, you don’t miss how breathless he’s beginning to sound and you revel in how wreaked you’ve gotten him as well.

You quickly position yourself as he has requested but take it further by pressing your chest onto the bed, arching your back and folding your arms behind you. In a brief moment of tenderness, Soonyoung takes one of your hands in his and intertwines your fingers.

Of course he matches it with filth when he spanks your backside then grabs the meat of your buttcheek to spread you open for him, “Look at this wrecked pussy.”

You preen under his attention and smile even if he can’t see your face in this position.

He collects the wetness of your pussy to lubricate himself before pushing into you and you swear the world stops spinning for a minute. Soonyoung was big, long enough to curve into you nicely, and his girth enough to have you gritting your teeth at the initial thrust into you.

But the position he had you in let him into you so much deeper, you swear you can feel him up to your throat, and you know you’re clenching around him with a vice grip. He felt so perfect inside of you that you could only wish he felt as good.

“You’re so deep, Soonyoung,” You say shakily, as he stills you with a hand on your hip.

“Fuck your pussy’s perfect,” He says as he presses even deeper, “Look at you stretched out for me. Making space for me inside of you. No one else can fuck you like this.”

No one can. No one will.

He slips out of you slightly just to press back in harshly with a jolt of his hips and soon he begins an almost punishing pace. He cock presses into the spot inside you incessantly and the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto the meat of ass is the perfect mix of pain and pleasure that has you gasping out his name in a sinful litany as you cum, unintentionally tightening around him.

The groan he lets out tells you he’s close to coming and when his thrusts start to grow sloppy he pulls out of you suddenly, to wrap a fist around his cock, pulling at himself to cum onto your backside. You know from his first orgasm that Soonyoung can cum a lot and when he spills all over you again now, it lands everywhere, some of it dripping into your hole, still gaping and clenching around nothing when he had pulled out of you.

You whine, a frown making itself present on your face as you turn to face him.

“I thought you were going to cum inside me,” You say, squirming at the cum quickly cooling on your ass and the few drops that had made it inside you keeping you sticky between your thighs. 

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” is all Soonyoung can say as he moves to sit up against the headboard and his pillows.

Your eyes follow his hand that’s wrapped around his still hard cock and you push it aside to take over, wanting him back in your mouth. You lay in front of him for a while, letting your tongue lap at him, and leisurely bobbing your head to get him fully hard and wet again.

In no time Soonyoung pulls you up to lay on his chest and slips back inside of you.

You sigh as your body grows boneless against him and he does all the work, hips undulating and pushing his cock into you just right so that you see stars and you gasp into each sloppy kiss. There is not even a millimeter between you two and if someone asked, you’d want to stay this way forever.

Even without the pleasure of fucking, you wished to never part from Soonyoung again.

The realization is jarring at this very moment but you let yourself ride the wave as it makes your orgasm so overwhelming tears fall from your eyes.

When Soonyoung sees the tear stains he moves his lips to kiss them away and whispers words of reassurance before he himself groans, spilling into you and finally filling you with his cum.

You can’t contain the fullness in your heart as Soonyoung lays you on your back, and drapes himself over you. You wrap a leg around his waist, not wanting him to pull away just yet.

Then he smiles.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” You whisper, afraid that saying this now would shatter the moment. But you have to tell him again. Remind him that this cannot just be for one night.

“You have me, you have me, you have me,” He says. 

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you and it'd mean the world to get a reblog or to hear your thoughts on my first fic long fic on here!

[loveshotzz]

Hi hi babes 🖤🦇

May I pretty please request ☆ { licking } their neck to make them gasp with our Stevie?

Thank you 🥰

Hi my sweet sweet Drac 🖤 I would love nothing more than to give you what you want.

steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ Co workers to lovers, Mentions of drinking at a party, dry humping, hickey giving, uh-oh did you make Steve cum in his pants? :(

You weren’t supposed to give into Steve Harrington, you promised yourself you wouldn’t after your first day at Family Video when he laid it on thick with the kind of flirting that would have gotten him anything he wanted in high school but you knew better now and his own confidence had gotten knocked down a few pegs over the years. The problem was he could tell you liked it, because as much as you hated to admit it, you did. Steve caught the twist of your lips that you were always trying to hide when he’d tell you how cute you looked every time you walked into work even on the days it was just a t-shirt and jeans. You never told him to stop, even when he’d ‘jokingly’ ask you out to dinner after every close. It was always a shy smile and a roll of your eyes with a ‘shut up Steve’.

So how’d you end up straddling his lap in the basement at one of Rick’s parties that you didn’t even want to go to with his bottom lip between your teeth? You blame Robin Buckley and her incessant need to take multiple shots in a row to ‘get it over with’, and then abandoning you as soon as Nancy arrived leaving you with the boy you’ve been trying not to relent to and his reaction to your skirt all night.

Steve’s fingers dig bruising indentations into the soft dough of your hips when you let his lip go with a wet pop, watching it snap back into place even more swollen and pink than before from under your lashes. The mossy forest of his eyes is taken over black, pupils blown wide half hidden by heavy lids as he looks up at you with hair even messier than its normal disarray with your hands as the culprits. Your skirt sits rucked up just enough for him to see the blush pink lace of your panties underneath that match the dusting on his cheeks, and the wet patch that you know will leave a mark on the light wash denim of his jeans the more you grind against him. He lifts his hips up as he pulls you forward, gliding you over the inseam of his zipper with just the right amount of pressure against your clit to have you gasp. He feels even bigger than you imagined, bigger than all the stories you’d heard from other girls.

A cocky lopsided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth pushing up the cheek with the two moles that look like a vampire bit the apple of it, traces of pink from your gloss still linger on them and the glitter coating shimmers in the low light. He tilts his head back to look up at you, the thick expanse of his neck exposed along with the sharpness of his jaw. The new angle reveals a mess of freckles you’d only dared to let yourself look at from afar. Glitterless and bruisless, a blank canvas that taunts you.

Leaning forward your hands find a home on his chest, while his fingers spread wide over the curve of your ass. The tips of them daring to slide along the bottoms of your panties. His pecs twitch against your palms from under the thick fabric of his navy polo that fits snug over his broad shoulders, almost like it's a size too small just like his jeans and just like his vest at work. Steve Harrington knew what he was doing. Of course he did.

Tequila and pineapple are sweet on your breath, mixing with the peach of your gloss in a way that makes him impatient to collect them in a kiss again when the tip of your nose traces up the straight bridge of his. It leaves your lips just a chin tilt away from him if he really wanted but his dark eyes flick down to the growing wet patch between your thighs instead, grabbing handfuls of the soft fat of your ass to encourage you to grind harder.

“S’pretty you know that?” He groans bucking up when your hips oblige him, the tip of his cock fighting with the inseam of his jeans, pushing into the silk of your underwear making an even bigger mess of you. “Too damn pretty, honey. Could stare at you all day, fuck - I do.”

“Steve!” The way you giggle his name makes his teeth flash in the kind of smile that has you feeling like the flustered girls you see leave the counter at work.

“What? It’s true, can’t keep my eyes off you.” He sits up, straightening his back with big hands that pull you up with him.

The new position has your chests pressed, the length of him rubbing along your clit with enough pressure to make you whine and god does he need you to do it again. Grunting he starts his hunt for another with lips that find the hollow of your throat, smirking against your skin when your fingers tangle in his hair. You wanted to give it to him.

“I didn’t think you were gonna give me a chance,” His babbling doesn’t stop, especially when your hips start to circle, “you were playin’ so hard to get baby, but I’m patient when I really want something.”

“We work together Steve -“ You try to argue with a shaky breath, lashes fluttering closed as he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. The springs of the couch starting to squeak under your movements, too close to care about holding back any more. “It could get messy, you know? - Shit.”

He hums like he understands with your earlobe sucked into the heat of his mouth, letting it go with a pop before his eyes meet your heavy gaze with a mischievous glint that only stokes the flames he’s lit across your body, licking every inch of your skin.

“I don’t know,” The corners of his mouth twist up in a grin snapping the elastic band of your panties “seems pretty messy now.”

His tongue traces your top lip, while his fingers find purchase wrapped around your hips. Tan skin pulls taut over his knuckles using his strength to bring your hips down on him harder, a deep groan rumbling from his chest when you tug at the thick locks of his auburn hair from the roots.

“That’s not what I - “ Your lips connect for a moment, tongues meeting briefly before you pull away with a huff, “that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

The tip of his nose bumps with yours, his breath fanning across your face in a mixture of leftover peach gloss and the whiskey he opted for instead upstairs.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” He asks with another roll of his hips relishing in the way it makes your jaw go slack with a smirk, “We get paid to have sex? Big woop.”

“Is that how you think it’s gonna be?” Your bottom lip meets his top when the question comes out, your eyes meeting his from down the slope of your nose.

“Maybe,” He wiggles his eyebrows with a chuckle that hits hot against your throat, “If you want, after I take you out on a date of course.”

“Oh we’re going on dates now too?” Grinning with a tilt of your head, you think about stealing a kiss that he’s eager to give.

One of his hands leaves your hip, the warmth of it coming up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates”

He closes the little space between you, finally stealing what you’ve been teasing him with. His mouth moves with yours like he’s sure of himself, tongues meeting in a slow dance instead of a battle for dominance. His other arm wraps around your waist, biceps that are just as strong as they look pulling you closer, caging you in with another buck of his hips. The whine he’s been trying to get out of you starts to tease him from the back of your throat, the beginnings of it making his lips twitch against yours in a cocky way, even when he knows he’s dangerously close to needing a new pair of pants.

He’s not expecting one of your hands to come up and pinch the sharp edges of his jaw between two red painted fingers, or the way you start to control the kiss and Steve starts being the one to writhe underneath you at whatever mercy you want to give him. Truly, he doesn’t want any.

Now it’s him who whines when you pull away, your kiss swollen sticky lips finding the familiar path to his cheek. Another glittering trail of pink that leads down under his jaw where you nip just like he did to you.

“Honey,”

The pet name comes out like a warning when your tongue swipes across sweat slick skin. The tip of your nose nudging behind his ear with a smirk. Your hips circle with purpose now, not the wild abandon from before, feeling the way it makes him twitch in his jeans. He shudders when you lick the length of his neck, teeth scraping along the protruding vein as his arm tightens its hold, the palm of his hand curling around the back of your neck.You hum in approval, lips wrapping around where your teeth just were before sucking hard.

He groans your name loud enough you’re sure someone upstairs heard him, eyes rolling in the back of his head and toes curling in his sneakers as his hips buck up meeting the roll of yours. You know it’s going to be enough to leave his sun kissed skin lilac and blush when you’re done, but he doesn’t seem to care when the hard tip of him that threatens to bust through the seam of his jeans keeps hitting your bundle of nerves over and over again.

Steve’s head falls against the back of the couch, eyes pinching shut opening himself up more for you while his hips stutter. You feel the warmth of him flood between your legs. A string of curse words spilling from his lips, when your own release has your body freezing on top of him, thighs closing tight around his and an open mouth to his neck in a silent scream.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath with the bass of the music that vibrates the walls from upstairs. A content hum from your lips breaks the silence when he rubs his hand down your spine, nails scratching softly as he goes.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates.” He finally huffs out in a laugh, earning the giggle that he liked so much as his ‘yes.’

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | i.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗��𝖎𝖘𝖙

Your hands quake around the bucket of mice as you stand above the terrarium. The bright-skinned creatures inside writhe around, in anticipation of their next meal. You peer inside the metal bucket at the little mice with their cute whiskers and beady eyes. Your heart twinges. They will soon meet their end, courtesy of you. But what else can be done? The snakes need to eat. Because if they were not fed, the colorful reptiles would break through the glass in search of the food they were denied. You used to have nightmares of it as a child. The lab crawling with snakes, their neon scales filling every corner.

Natural order restored as every warm-blooded creature in their vicinity turns into prey. 

You suppress a shudder. While that never happened, you can’t erase the slight chill dancing through your bones whenever you approach the terrarium. 

Other lab assistants have offered to take on the task, noting your discomfort. You’ve turned each of them down. Mother has given you this job ten years ago. A gift, she called it. More of a challenge quite frankly. A way to test your nerves, that she always deemed too delicate. She never expected you to go through with it. “Hippity, hoppity, little one,” she mockingly sang that day as you fidgeted before the ceiling-high glass case filled with snakes to the brim. Their scales were a deep green back then. Nothing like the pink, yellow and blue shades they don today. A plethora of mutations throughout the years has made them what they are now.

You tip the bucket against the edge of the glass case, abandoning the poor rodents to their fates. The reptiles are quick to dive upon them in a heap. The mice’s helpless squeaks reach a peak, piercing your ears until they’re silenced quickly. You watch, stomach tight while the snakes open their maws and swallow the furred animals whole. The spectacle will never sit well with you.

Still, you school your features and steady your heart. Mother’s voice echoes through your head.

Emotions are a weakness. They must be harnessed, contained.

Harnessing your emotions. A feat you could never achieve. One that makes you a failed experiment in Mother’s eyes. A waste of space. A disappointment.

You start climbing down the ladder to gather more mice from their cages. Your insides clutch at the prospect of gently picking them up only to escort them to a sorrowful fate.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted when voices erupt from the other end of the long hall. 

Recognizing them, you freeze. Panic floods your veins. You haste down the ladder, the bucket clattering as you discard it on the floor. 

You scurry inside the nearest office and duck beneath a table.

The voices grow in the lab. You eavesdrop, allowing you to catch snippets of the conversation. They’re discussing Mother’s latest experiments with the Avox subjects. One succumbed to a chromosome translocation with a wolf mutt. The finer details of replacing the subject and what can be learned from the results are discussed in cold, clinical fashion. No regard for what was a human life, now lost, is granted. The Avox was nothing more than a slab of meat meant for slaughter. The slow, barbaric kind.

Ice seeps through your veins. You loathe visiting that room, the one displaying Mother’s human experiments on unfortunate Avoxes. Their beseeching gazes. Their warped pleas parroted by the jabberjays above them. You almost passed out every time you were tasked with monitoring their electrolyte status or switching their intravenous tubes.

Head rising from under the desk, you allow yourself a peek. 

Mother’s here, of course. You recognized her voice right away. Then, there’s…him.

You let your gaze rest on him, never having the chance to observe him like that. Steal a glance from the back of the lecture hall. Get a glimpse of him amidst his crowd of friends, always in his element of course, owning every room he’s in.

Never before did you get to just look at him.

The first thing that strikes you is how beautiful he is. Handsome in that dazzling way the pretty boys in the sappy books smuggled from the Districts your mother berates you for reading are.

She calls them stupid. For you however, they are your only escape from the dismal humdrum of the Capitol. Fictional worlds that shield you from the harshness of reality. Your saving grace.

Platinum locks combed back from his face. Eyes as blue as the sky. Sharp, angular features.

Coriolanus Snow.

Behind the safety of the glass panel, openly admiring him is easier. In fact, you find it almost hard to peel your eyes away.

No wonder half the girls in your cohort can’t stop gushing about him, how there’s an irresistible, slight air of danger hovering around him since his brief time as a peacekeeper. Even Io Jasper noticed it. And Io never notices anything that she can’t wedge between two glass slides and examine under a microscope.

Awe mingles with envy in your chest. This is who your mother chose as her unofficial successor. The worthy, cool-headed apprentice she has yearned for years. She’s been through so many people, each more eager to please and impress than the last. None ever fit. Not even you. Especially not you. Nobody except for him.

No one had ever passed your mother’s crooked tests before Coriolanus Snow came along.

Blue eyes travel upward, the Snow heir seeming to sense the scrutiny upon him.

“Is someone here?” he says, pushing forward.

Your pulse quickens at the sound of Coriolanus Snow’s deep voice, disturbingly close. You crouch to hide from view.

Mother’s exasperated breath reaches you from behind the glass panel.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably my daughter. I’m afraid she’s quite useless,” she says matter-of-factly.

Your heart sinks. Face warm with embarrassment, you shrink beneath the desk. You bring your knees to your chest. Hearing such words shouldn’t affect you. Not after all these years. Yet it does. A pointed reminder that you can never measure up. That you’re a glaring mistake, lucky to even be allowed to wander the halls of the Citadel and be given a semblance of responsibility, however small.

That you’re not enough, will never be enough.

That you should never have been brought into the world.

After getting caught, you file away your embarrassment and make yourself small. Even smaller than usual. It's not too hard. When you aren’t working at the lab, your schedule consists of attending lectures and studying for long hours at the library. It keeps you busy enough to find excuses to skip a few hours at the lab. After all, midterms are only a few weeks away. They require your entire focus. You can’t fail and add more of a shameful stain to Mother’s name.

It’s why you ramped up your studying since the Academy. You were painfully average then, tragically unremarkable, not even ranking high enough to get your own tribute to mentor in the tenth Hunger Games. The shriveling stare she cast upon you the day of the reaping after Dean Highbottom failed to speak your name is burned into your mind forever. That day, you failed Mother again. You swore to yourself to never let it happen again afterwards.

This year, you will study harder, until your eyes fall off if necessary. If you can pass every class with flying colors and perhaps even aim for the valedictorian spot, you can prove Mother that your existence isn’t a complete and utter waste. It might be a lofty goal for you, but you’ve been ranking higher with every test these last few weeks.

For days, your path does not cross Coriolanus Snow’s again. Your peace is maintained. You get to almost forget how piercing his blue eyes were that day, even from behind the glass panel.

Today, you don’t expect things to veer away from your usual routine. You sit in the back of the lecture hall as is your habit. Students pour inside at a sluggish pace while you peruse your notes from the previous class. They barely make sense, even to you. Defense economics has never been your favorite subject, possibly your most hated in fact, and paying attention during Professor Cloudsbane’s class is even more of a challenge. More than once, you dozed off, the complicated concepts struggling to fully sink into your mind.

Keeping up with this class is twice as much work than all the other ones. Even Mother’s bioengineering and military strategy courses do not give you so much grief. Concepts she’s drilled into you since childhood are easier to digest.

Which is why you’re flabbergasted when the results of last week’s test are passed around and you receive yours. In disbelief, you blink at the paper multiple times.

It’s the highest grade you’ve gotten the entire semester. Possibly the highest one in the class. You bask in the private, secret victory. You’re always so behind. You plan on enjoying that tiny moment. You hug the test to your chest, a smile creeping upon your lips.

“So what score did you get?”

Your head whips up, the sudden voice startling you out of your thoughts.

Bright cobalt orbs fill your sight.

You gape in disbelief. Coriolanus Snow.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize he and his group of friends have elected to occupy the seats in the row before yours today. You’re stunned. They’re usually sitting somewhere in the middle of the hall, not quite at the front but close enough so that Clemensia can comfortably harass the professor with a ceaseless string of questions as she’s known to do.

“So?” he asks again. His eyes dart down. “Your grade?”

Your throat knots as you gawk at him. When you don’t reply, he huffs out a laugh and swipes the piece of paper from your hand. You’re too flabbergasted by his actions to even react.

Empty hands hanging before you, you watch him purse his lips as he inspects your paper.

“Hm, top grade. Figured.” His eyes twinkle. “Expected from Dr. Gaul’s daughter, I suppose.”

“You almost had it, Coryo. But she beat you,” Clemensia teases, wiggling her eyebrows. Meanwhile, Ivy Briarose, Clemensia’s close friend, giggles at her comment. 

You steal a glance at his test; he’s holding it next to yours. Surprise surges through you. There’s only half a point between your grade and his. Just half a point…but still. Coriolanus always aces Professor Cloudsbane’s tests. Him getting the top grade is often expected. But this time, the Snow heir falls behind…you. 

You can hardly believe it. A sliver of pride flutters through you. The fruits of your labor are beginning to show.

“If you don’t watch out, she’ll steal the top student spot from you,” Livia chimes in. You can tell the blonde is reveling in this, that strange animosity between her and Coriolanus on full display.

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks, his tight-lipped smile unfaltering as he studies you.

“I suppose she could,” he utters softly. Despite his tranquil expression and the smile pulling his lips, a peculiar unease settles in your bones. You shift in your chair, goosebumps blooming across your flesh.

He hands you your test back without a word. You’re relieved when he turns and the class starts. 

Still, even with his back turned, the weight of his sizzling scrutiny doesn’t part from your skin. 

The class proceeds, the words pouring from your professor’s lips a befuddling heap in your ears as usual. You jot everything down, acutely aware you’ll need several hours if not more than that to decipher everything he said. Your mind already throbs at the prospect. 

You sneak a glance at the row in front of you. It’s mostly filled with the top students, most of them mentors that last year at the Academy. Some of them aren’t even taking notes. Only Coriolanus sporadically does. He appears to have no issue keeping up with this class, unlike you who drowned in the first few minutes.

You’re relieved when the lecture reaches its end. Your mind is on the cusp of overflow. You desperately need a break. 

You pick up your things and rush to the exit. In the hallway, some guy bumps into you from behind, sending the books in your arms flying across the floor. He doesn’t say anything to you and you bend to pick up your books. Tears press behind your eyes. This is nothing. It shouldn’t make you blink back tears. It’s not the first time someone’s treated you like you were invisible. 

“Hey, apologize.” 

Your eyes drift skyward. Stumped, you watch Coriolanus grip the boy who bumped into you by his shoulder. 

“What?” the guy replies, confusion scrunching his features. 

“You bumped into her. I said ‘apologize’,” Coriolanus articulates, as if he were addressing a particularly slow child. When the guy tries to leave, rolling his eyes, the blond squeezes him tighter. Tension flickers in the air. They trade looks and doubts creep on the guy’s face, his face blanching. 

He clears his throat and whirls to you.

“Sorry,” he blurts out.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

He turns, likely hoping to leave again, but Coriolanus tuts him, pointing at your books, still scattered across the floor.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says, arching his brow.

The guy unleashes a sigh but hunkers down to collect all of your books. He gives them to you in a neat pile as you stare at the spectacle, mouth agape.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

He nods and saunters off, avoiding Coriolanus’ eyes.

Coriolanus grabs your hand, helping you to your feet. The pads of his fingers are rougher than you expect, calluses pressing against your soft skin. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you rise. 

You’re not sure what to say, your nerves flaring beneath his stare. But you suppose you should thank him. While you struggle standing up for yourself, he just did it for you. So you mumble the words under your breath and begin heading in the opposite direction.

With his long legs, Coriolanus easily keeps up with your hasty strides. Your heart skips a beat as he falls in step with you.

“I feel strange asking this but…” He leans above your shoulder to whisper, “Are you avoiding me?”

“I-I’m not,” you stammer, your pulse racing with the lie.

The blond chuckles.

“You’re walking awfully fast for someone who’s not avoiding me.”

“I’m just running late to my next class.”

“What about your mom’s lab?” he challenges. “You were hiding from me, weren’t you?”

Your lips tighten. If only he’d drop it. You don’t want to revisit that awkward moment. Everything about it makes your stomach ache.

“I…wasn’t,” you lie, your voice barely above a breath. Your face warms as a smile plays upon Coriolanus’ lips. You halt in your tracks, hugging your books against your chest as you pivot to him. You bashfully meet his gaze. “I was just a little spooked.”

He tilts his head, mirth swimming in his cobalt orbs.

“Spooked? By me? Do I scare you, angel?”

The pet name, uttered like a caress, sets your heart aflutter.

“No,” you mutter. Another lie. And it’s like he’s picked up on it, his soft, pink lips stretching even more.

“It wasn’t nice what she said,” he says abruptly.

You blink in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“Dr. Gaul, about you. It wasn’t nice.”

You shrug. “I’m used to it. It’s fine.”

He approaches you. The scent of his pricey cologne engulfs your senses. It’s masculine but the faint scent of roses lingers underneath, as if stubbornly clinging to him.

His voice lowers, his gaze entrapping yours. 

“It’s not fine. You work so hard to make her see you. You’re a good daughter.” You don’t realize his hand’s moved to your face until one of his fingers traces the curve of your cheek. Your heart races at the sudden touch. Coriolanus’ thumb drags down to your chin, his attention landing on your bottom lip. He smiles. “Hard work should be praised, rewarded even.”

Disarmed by his closeness and the strange words rolling off his tongue, you retreat.

You readjust the books between your arms.

“I s-should go. My next class is about to start.”

His words interrupt you.

“Hey, why don’t you have lunch with me and the others today?”

Your stomach clutches. You think about Coriolanus’ usual crowd, a bunch of kids from wealthy, influential families, popular and revered. Clemensia Dovecote. Livia Cardew. Ivy Briarose. Hilarius Heavensbee. Festus Creed. Most of them now hold the admiration of their peers for having survived the chaos the Tenth Hunger Games were.

You’d never fit in with them. In fact, you never did. Coriolanus must know that. Is he trying to punish you for eavesdropping on his conversation with your mother the other day? 

“I-I never talked to any of them,” you answer, panic swelling in your gut.

His brows crumple. “If you don’t talk to anyone, you’ll never make friends.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need friends,” you retaliate.

“It’s always useful, having friends,” he rasps. “The right connections, they can get you far.”

You anxiously roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m not good at…making conversation.”

“We’re having a conversation now,” he says, laughing.

As you mull over what he just said, a small smile tugs your lips.

“I guess we are.”

His gaze sharpens. “That’s a pretty smile. I’d love to see it more often.”

His low, soft voice sends chills through your spine.

Coriolanus’ long lashes droop as he gauges your expression.

“I’d be disappointed if I didn't see your face, angel.”

You fidget, your eyes sinking to the floor before rising to meet his again.

“I don’t know if that’s okay… for me to show up like that.”

“I’m inviting you, so of course it’s okay.”

He speaks like it’s a given, like whatever he says goes. His confidence unsettles you. 

You fall quiet, weighing your options. There’s something in Coriolanus’ silky voice that makes it hard to say no, but you’d hate being the unwanted guest at the popular kids’ table. 

Still, the expectation on his face makes you not want to let him down. 

“I’m not hearing a yes.”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter belatedly. 

A broad smile spreads on his handsome face.

“Perfect. See you at lunch then, angel.”

As he strolls away, your feet remain glued to the floor, your mind lingering in disbelief of what just occurred. 

[sgojoenthusiast]

scary? my god, you’re divine.

✧.* satoru gojo x reader.

summary:

a curse invades your home but you’re saved by none other than satoru gojo - who takes your breath away in the most beautiful way.

cw: descriptions of violence, blood, injury, psychological trauma & distress, hospitals, reader is a non-sorcerer, like one like where the reader wants to die, talks about death, not exactly love at first sight but can be interpreted as such. honestly i’m so in love with gojo so this is just me projecting. fuck 261. this may be more of me indulging in my need to write horror lol

word count: 4.4k

likes, comments & reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

The walls of your chest were closing in as your breathing gradually increased in its pace. One of your palms flew to your chest whilst the other searched for some sort of a grip on the wall beside you.

Stupidly, you had backed yourself into a corner, and now all you could do was feel the streams of tears cascade down your cheeks and land on your scrambling legs like waterfalls crashing down into the rocks below.

You tried everything you could for some sort of leverage. One hand scraped at the wall and the other at your heart whilst your legs pushed and pushed at the floor as if you could nudge yourself any further into the corner you were in.

Finding some rationality, you attempted to slow your breathing down, deciding that steady and stifled breaths would be better than attracting attention to yourself by making more noise. Though, there was nothing you could do about the sound of your heart beating erratically like it had more sense than you as it tried everything it could to escape.

At first, you had clawed your way through the halls of your home. Lights flickered, floorboards creaked, and you grunted and groaned as you fought your way through inescapable death. Yet, once you had realised every exit took you back to the entrance, and that you were in some sort of an endless maze within your own home, your mind sank into illogicality and you collapsed onto the floor as your legs gave in from fear.

It was the reverberating echo of several burly legs loitering outside the door that snapped some residue sense into your head and forced you to sit up.

There were tears staining your swollen face and it took every ounce of composure to bite your lip to muffle your cries. You wanted to scream. To wail and call for help. Yet you knew that would get you nowhere but trouble.

So for now, you hoped and prayed someone heard the sounds of slamming, glass shattering and your previous shouts and had the brilliant idea of calling the police.

But what would they do? You had seen that thing. It was horrifying. From the moment its wide, crooked smile appeared suddenly before you, a piece of you knew this would be the end. At first, you had thought you had finally gone insane. That some chord in your mind had snapped and now you had resorted to seeing things. However, when your back hit the wall across the room and you let out a shriek of agony, you knew that the monster before you was real, and so was the likelihood of certain death.

Your head suddenly raised at the splintering sound of wood snapping.

The unsettled beating of your heart ceased. The struggling of your limbs too. Each bone in your body abandoned life and shut down - refusing to move.

In front of you, the white frame of the door, decorated with faded and torn paint, had an oozing, inky smoke unfurling at a leisurely pace across the old frame, stopping shortly at the wall. In the space where the door used to conceal your existence, was one giant red eye that scanned across the entirety of the room before settling on its target - you. It blinked twice, before the door was ripped from its hinges and the wall had shrunk in size - replaced by a gigantic hole ripping through.

Soon enough the creature was crawling over to you, its legs widely shuffling across the room, scuttling closer and closer until one had slashed across your stomach, painting your top with a deep red. An agonised shout parted from your lips and your hand flew to the gash, yet you had no time to recover before another deformed limb was lifting you up against the wall by your neck.

Now, both of your hands coordinated an attack on the void-like limb, scratching and fighting at its hold around your throat in an attempt to get it off you. Your efforts were seemingly futile, however, evident by the way your vision was becoming a blur and each thought of freedom and survival was being crushed by the surface of its contorted leg.

You could only think thoughts of death, and how it wasn't coming soon enough.

Just when you thought it had ended, a radiating beam blinded your vision. The grip on your throat had been released, yet with both the ringing in your ears that muffled all other noise and the searing pain that tore through your entire body, you truly believed that you had already died. You fell to the floor once more and curled yourself up for whatever kind of familiar warmth you could acquire.

You shut your eyes tight, embracing the light they said would come to you in these final moments. But when nothing came, and the screaming wound lingered in your side, you delicately opened up one eye, moving your head slightly to look up.

There was no light. No God or unearthly being descending from above to take your hand and guide you to the afterlife. No, instead there was the back of a man. You couldn't see his face, but he was dressed from head to toe in a dark shade of blue like the hues of the night sky, and the more you stared, the more you believed you had been transported to a place you could only reach after death. However, when your eyes drifted upwards, they made out the sight of white strands of hair, and a slender hand reaching to the back of his head to undo the band of black that was wrapped firmly around it.

His hair fell down gracefully, as did one of his hands to his side, blindfold in tow, the opposite hand was raised to meet the height of his head. The sounds of his words were muffled, but you could make out an arrogant laugh and from the way the beast had halted all movements and instead opted for staring wide-eyed at the man standing in front of you, he had said something that injected fear through the monster's veins.

You could have sworn that you only closed your eyes for half a second. Yet, one blink later, and the monster's head had ceased to ever sit on its neck. The black fog that had clouded your senses and suffocated your lungs was dissipating, and there were remnants of its insides splattered on the walls and floor.

The white-haired man caught your fading gaze, and the moment his eyes connected with yours, you felt your heart slow and time stop.

His eyes.

They were angelic. Perhaps you were dead because there was nothing so heavenly like the shades of the sky in his eyes on Earth. There was nothing so remarkable, so flawless. You didn't want to blink, not even as your eyes watered and started to sting. Yet the frailty of your exhausted body refused to let you have this one thing, and so you broke the connection temporarily only to rebuild it back up again.

He began to make his way back over to you, yet you struggled to find the strength to move in order to meet him halfway. You couldn't even find the strength to move your aching body off the floor or your bruised hand of your throbbing wound. Still, with a pained wince you moved to a more comfortable position in between being flat on your back and straight on your arm.

You looked up at him from your tilted position and he kneeled down beside you. "You alright? Can you walk?"

You shook your head as best as you could, he simply stared down at you with a confusing look sparkling in the depth of his eyes - the ones you couldn't look away from.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Help is coming." He smiled at you.

Gojo was puzzled by the look on your face. For some reason, you hadn't stopped staring at him since he turned around. He assumed that perhaps it had something to do with the curse. Was it a response to the trauma you had endured? Had it cursed you? Was it him that you were afraid of? He certainly hoped not. From the moment he saw your face, albeit not in particularly amazing conditions considering you were being strangled and were halfway to death's doorstep, he felt a tingling sensation in his stomach and a pulling in his heart.

There was something about you, there had to have been for you to illicit such a reaction from every part of him within seconds of your meeting. Fuck, he prayed that he hadn't frightened you off.

"I hope I didn't scare you." He said softly, yet laughed humourlessly in a way for him to play it cool and demonstrate how you had nothing to be afraid of. With as much care and delicacy as he could muster, one hand went underneath your head, gently trying to lift you up as his other hand reached for your waist.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, as though the implications of him scaring you were nothing short of laughable. Though, as you read the thoughts behind his eyes, you could tell there was a hint of genuine concern laced within them.

This stranger, who you had never met before, felt concerned for you and had saved your life. Yet, he was anxious that he had scared you? It was a ridiculous insinuation.

"Scared me? No, it's just, that you're beautiful." Your voice was growing weaker, and just in time, you heard the sounds of more footsteps growing closer and closer. Yet your eyes focused on the way his eyes widened before he smiled, just as genuine as his concern.

"Oh yeah?" He provoked. "No need to fall for me this quickly, sweetheart. Plenty of time for that."

Ordinarily, if someone had been so bold as to suggest something like that, you would have scoffed in their face and walked away. Yet the deeper meaning of comfort he was trying to provide you with, the one that showed you that you weren't dying anytime soon, was all you needed to laugh and reply coarsely with, "We'll see about that."

The last thing you heard as you dozed off peacefully was the sound of his laugh and the feeling of his touch passing you onto someone else's.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was an overwhelming light above you, one that was strong enough to pierce through your eyes despite the fact they were shut tightly. The light surrounding you felt like a thousand blinding suns beaming down at you from above as though you were encased in a circle of light that was urging you awake. You groaned softly, shuffling your head to the side in an attempt to bury it in the pillow and escape from the natural, ringing alarms of the light.

A pillow? Had you been dreaming? All it took was for you to try shifting onto your side to alert you that, no, you hadn't been dreaming. You winced painfully as the realisation slapped you across the face. Everything was real. The fight, the struggle, the... the monster. A trail of goosebumps washed over your body and you screwed your eyes shut like doing so would erase the memories of what had happened.

However, once you realised that he was also real, your eyes softened and in all the darkness of what you had experienced that day, the idea that the man who had saved your life was really out there, and that monster wasn't. That realisation alone was enough to wash a sense of tranquillity and closure over you.

"I wouldn't try to move if I was you." A female voice rang out - one you didn't recognise. You had already assumed that you were in a hospital, so the unfamiliarity didn't scare or panic you. Simply, your eyes slowly opened to the sight of a brunette woman in a doctor's coat, and your suspicions had been confirmed. You wondered if she knew anything of what happened.

It dawned on you that perhaps, your situation wasn't original. The man that had saved you seemed to be experienced and knew what he was doing. However, surely you would've heard if there was a mass of monsters plaguing the Earth that you lived on.

"What happened?" You questioned tentatively, voice weak and dry. Although you could practically recall the events with no missing details, you wanted to know more about the thing that had attacked you and you hoped that the doctor would have some sort of a clue if she was the one treating you. She handed you a cup of water which you accepted eagerly, reaching your hands out and thanking her quickly before you immediately went to relinquish yourself of the dry throat that had been scratching and tormenting you since you had woken up.

You saw a pass clipped to her coat as a form of identification. The name on the pass flashed across your eyes as 'Shoko', to which you took a note of before quickly returning your gaze back to hers.

"You were attacked by a curse - and no I won't. explain what that is. You can ask Gojo." She was wandering around the room slowly, head down as she wrote down a few things. Occasionally, she would you a question in regards to your health. Her voice lowered to a tone barely above a whisper. "Sure he'd love to answer considering he's been not-so-subtly asking about you non-stop."

"What was that, sorry?" You asked sincerely, placing the cup down on the bedside table. Looking up at her, you could tell she had a tired look adorning her features, however, there was a slight smirk playing on her lips as well.

You thought more about her words. Gojo. Who was that? A curse? What does that even mean? Not long ago, you were oblivious to all of this, unaware that such creatures were roaming around.

Shoko waved a dismissive hand in your direction. "Nothing. Anyway, I'm only here to make sure that the curse left no lingering side effects that would need treatment. Luckily for you, you're in the clear. So when you're all healed up, you're a free woman."

'Free wasn't necessarily how you would describe it. You recall parts of your house being smashed up by the monster - or, curse, as Shoko had labelled it.

You had so many questions. Some in regards to the curse, others more personal and unanswerable that pertained to your future. You had no idea what you'd do once you left, and that scared you.

Shoko began to place her things into her bag, taking out a cigarette in the process and placing it between her lips as she held the lighter to her side ready for when she left.

"How long have I been here?"

She looked up at you from where she was focused packing her things. "A little under a week. You're very lucky Gojo had saved you when he did. Or else, you probably wouldn't be here."

So that's who Gojo was. You perked up a little at the mention of the man who had saved you. Even if it was just once, you wanted to see him. To thank him, at the very least. "You, uh...You mentioned something about me asking him about the curse. Does that mean he'll stop by?"

You looked down, fiddling with the sheet covering your injured body, wanting to avoid her questioning gaze that most certainly had a knowing glint in it.

She merely let out a small laugh and shook her head in something similar to disbelief. "Probably. Although, he doesn't usually find himself checking up on the people he saved." Picking up her bag, she reached for the door handle. "I've gotta head out. Feel better soon, okay?"

You thanked her once again, giving her a small wave as she headed out the door.

Truthfully, you didn't know whether or not to be discouraged by her words. On one hand, she had told you that he'd probably stop by. On the other, she mentioned that he doesn't usually. Deciding not to dwell on it too much, you closed your eyes once more as another nurse walked in to take the place of Shoko, beginning to do more check-ups.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

About a week had passed by when you were finally discharged from the hospital. During that time, your close friends and family had all come to check on you. Your best friend and co-worker had offered you her spare room whilst your house was having repairs done to it. It was a nice arrangement, considering the two of you owned a bakery together so that on the days you were feeling better you had someone who could take you down. You didn't actually start working again until about a month after you had been discharged and your injuries were mostly healed up.

There was only one thing missing. Gojo had never stopped by like the doctor had told you he might, which left you with a feeling of disappointment. You tried not to let it bother you too much, but it was difficult knowing you had never been able to thank him. Another man had stopped by, however. You assumed he had some sort of a connection to Gojo and Shoko, given that he had only stopped by to ask you to sign a form that would prevent you from being able to tell anyone about what had happened. He came very shortly after Shoko, meaning you had to lie to your friends and family by telling them it was another person who had broken into your home. You signed it anyway after he assured you it was for their safety and for the safety of others.

Now, a little over a month later, you were doing a lot better. You struggled to even close your eyes at night, sometimes, and often couldn't walk through the streets on your own. But other than that, your injuries had healed, you were far less paranoid than you were a month ago and your home was close to being ready.

You were sat at the counter of the bakery you shared with your best friend, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. It was quiet, today, only a few people wandering in and ordering something to go - with it being a Monday and all.

Unexpectedly, you heard the bell ring as the door opened. Immediately, you stood up and tucked your phone into your pocket, rushing to greet the customer. However, upon looking up to see the person who walked in, you stopped suddenly in your tracks. You blinked, yet he was still there.

You thought about him so often, your mind wandering whenever you were left alone with your thoughts for too long. You thought about the way his hair crashed across his features like waves when he took off his blindfold. You thought about how he turned to look at you with those eyes locked on yours. Those eyes - so entrancing. It was as though he had bewitched you and put you under a spell the moment he looked at you because you were so enamoured by him that you didn't dare to blink. You thought about how it was apparent that he never seemed to think about you - and that made you want to reach over the counter and slap him a little. Although, especially after he saved your life, what did he owe you? Absolutely nothing. So instead, you simply watched him walk over to you with a small smile on his face.

His coat was covered in snow from the outside rampage of white whisps and cold air. Though it wasn't incredibly obvious that there wasn't any, he shook his head slightly and a few remaining flakes of snow fell from the frozen tips of his hair. Although it was winter now, he sported a pair of sunglasses - to which you assumed it was for a reason related to why he was wearing that blindfold.

For the past month, you couldn't help but wonder whether or not his angelic presence was the result of your delirious and pain-stricken state. However, upon observing him now, you determined that he really was captivating in every way. And something was telling you that he was looking at you with the same impression, although you pushed the thought away, dismissing it as foolish hope.

You had no idea what to say to him. You had been waiting for this moment for so long, yet you never thought about what you might say. Thankfully, he decided to speak up first as he peaked over the edge of his glasses at you.

"I've been looking for you." He started, his voice seemingly breathless like he'd run a mile just to get here to you - like he was tired of looking, but his work had finally paid off. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner - when you've got a job like mine it's-"

"Thank you." You interrupted. The mention of his job had smacked some sense into you as you were reminded of what he had done for you. He looked slightly taken aback. It wasn't something he heard often, but when he did it was as though he was reminded why he did this in the first place - let alone hearing it from you. The girl he hadn't been able to shake out of his head since the moment he saw her, the one he yearned to see just one more time because she looked at him like she understood him and that was all he could ever ask for. "Can I get you something?"

Gojo smiled at that, taking you up on your offer as you grabbed him his order (on the house, of course) and finally sat down with the one you had wanted nothing more than to just sit and talk with - and you did. The two of you talked for hours, occasionally interrupted by a customer or two. You thanked him profusely to the point where he threatened to leave jokingly if you thanked him again. He explained everything to you and answered all of your silent questions for you that you had to keep close to your chest for the past month. Yet, most importantly, you talked about each other. And the more you talked, the more your heart raced and heat rushed over your entire body.

The all-powerful Satoru Gojo never expected to find himself so infatuated by somebody, yet when he saved you that day, there was an inexplicable fire that was lit from within him. He'd never seen anybody so beautiful, and he had never been recognised by anything other than he strength during moments like that. When you had complimented him, he knew from within that it wasn't solely his physical characteristics you appreciated, but also the person he was inside. He felt as though you saw inside of him just from that short interaction.

As you spoke, Gojo found himself digging around with both hands trying to find that smile you kept flashing him and when you did, he didn't so much as blink because it was so bewitching. And likewise, whenever he laughed at something you said, you couldn't prevent the satisfied smile that rested on your cheeks from the prideful feeling overtaking your mind.

Your hand wrapped around your mug, savouring the delightful warmth that radiated from it in contrast to the biting cold that howled away outside the building. The two of you were sat in a corner opposite each other, and as more time passed, the more your cheeks began to ache from your constant smile and laughter and the more you dreaded to get up when a customer walked through.

"I swear! I'm a busy man okay. I was out of town when you woke up." He sulked, his head resting on his hand with a pleading look in his eyes. You laughed at his effort of reason.

"And the month following, you were..." You prompted with a humourous tone laced into your words.

Before he could answer, his hand slipped forward slightly, grazing yours and sending shockwaves throughout your entire arm and body. Avoiding his stare, you turned away, unable to conceal your smile and the way he had your breathing speed up every second he spoke to you and touched your hand like he was. At this, he pouted, leaning to the side in an attempt to catch your eyes yet you turned even more with a laugh.

Sighing, he answered your previous question. "Shoko says I was nervous. I would argue that I was simply building tension for the plot."

You snorted at his absurdity, moving your hand back to take a sip of your drink. He sagged a bit in disappointment at your actions, yet when you placed your drink back and had your hand brushing against his just the same as before, he livened up a bit and grinned at you once more. You delighted in the way he looked at you over his glasses and smiled. It had been a while since you felt a connection like the one between the two of you, yet you had never experienced it so quickly. It was all-consuming and had you on the edge of your seat in anticipation as to what he woud say and do next.

Soon enough, the day had reached its end - and if it weren't for the sun barely peaking out over the window to the bakery, you wouldn't have believed that you had practically spent the day with Gojo with it feeling like just an hour since he first walked in. Though the amount of hours you had shared with him said differently, you felt like you hadn't seen enough of him.

After he put his coat back on, he turned to face you with a smile playing on his lips. "So... I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night?"

You swore that if he hadn't invited you out to dinner when he had, you would've dragged him out later that night handcuffed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: if it wasn't entirely obvious i got a bit lazy towards the end (major character flaw of mine). i am an absolute SLUT for the non-sorcerer x sorcerer trope tho.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[tofics]

Comfort Has A Name

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: For you, comfort has a name: Joel Miller.

Word count: ~1.1k words

Tags/Warnings: fluff, freezing your ass off, soft!Joel, jokes about saggy balls in hot weather

A/N: Look at that, I actually wrote something. I'm literally drowning in uni work atm so I have no idea when I'll get back to my other fics, but I'm too overwhelmed with my task list tonight so naturally I had to procrastinate and think about a comforting Joel situation. This is literally no more than a drabble, but maybe it can provide some comfort for you too 🥲

Tough and gruff as he may be, Joel Miller is still your comfort person.

Occasionally, people will ask you how the hell you deal with him on a daily basis, and you never know what to reply. Where do you get the patience?

You're not a saint, by no means. Your patience does not exceed the normal amount, but you've never found Joel testing it.

It's more the opposite, really.

Where other people complain that he grinds their gears, you think of him as the drop of oil that smoothes out the kink in your own system.

Like that day him and you got surprised by a thunderstorm and had to take shelter in an abandoned building. Nothing about the complex provided a sense of comfort; bare and crumbling walls, dust and rubble-coated floors, and more broken windows than intact ones to show for. It was a miserable night. You were freezing, drenched from the downpour the two of you had gotten caught in, and the wind wasn't helping either, howling through the cracks and holes in the ceiling and walls like a wailing ghost.

Joel and you had taken cover in one corner of the building. In the dim twilight of the early night, your two cowering figures could've easily passed as two more large pieces of rubble to the untrained eye. Your soaked clothes lay strewn around, hastily discarded and exchanged for dry clothes from your backpacks in an attempt to not lose more body heat than necessary. (Joel hadn't looked, of course, and neither had you. Both of you had turned their backs to each other as you'd quickly stripped off your clothes, as quickly as the soaked garments would allow.) Still, your teeth were chattering relentlessly, adding a rhythmic element to the white noise provided by the downpour outside.

You reached for your backpack to retrieve your sleeping bag, hoping to wrap it around you like a blanket for extra warmth, but you noticed the mishap as soon as your fingers found the side compartment of your bag. The flap hung loose, and your sleeping bag underneath it was drenched.

"Fuck." You muttered under your breath.

The flap must've had come loose sometime during your sprint through the rain, which left your sleeping bag drenched and you without a plan to warm up. With a sigh, you pulled the bunched up material from its tiny compartment and rolled it out over the floor next to your drenched clothes. You were doubtful any of it was going to be dry by morning, but the chances were still higher than if you kept it all bunched up in your backpack.

You'd slept on solid ground enough to know how cold and unwelcoming any stone surface could be, but that night, you truly understood whoever had coined the term 'stone cold'. The hard concrete against your back was drawing out more heat from your limbs than you could conjure, despite your best efforts. You had curled yourself into a ball, knees tucked tightly against your arms which were crossed over your chest. Your hands, formed into tight fists, were buried in your armpits, but it wasn't helping. Frost was settling in your every limb, slowly working its way from the tips of your extremities all the way to the core of your bones.

That's what you got for getting caught in the rain in early November.

"Hey." Joel's voice grumbled next to you, barely distinguishable over the rain splattering outside. You shifted your head and squinted at him through the dark.

He too was curled up into a human ball, but he'd extended an arm to you as if inviting you for a side-hug.

"C'mon," he said and beckoned you over with a flick of his hand.

You didn't need to be told twice. With your backpack in tow, you scooted over to him, dragging both your belongings and your butt over the dusty ice-cold floor.

"Whoa." You breathed out in surprise as you tucked yourself against Joel's side. His arm came down around you instantly, locking you in place and holding you closer to him than you might've allowed yourself. Heat radiated from his center like he secretly harbored a little white dwarf in his abdomen.

Before you could even think about what you were doing, you pushed yourself into Joel's side as much as physically possible. Your arms snaked around his waist and just barely touched on the other side, while your head came to rest below his chin on his chest, your legs all jumbled up into a big knot drawn as close to yourself as possible. It wasn't really a comfortable position, and yet it was as comfortable as you were ever gonna get.

"Are you an oven or something? How the hell are you so hot?"

Joel snorted. You could feel the low rumble of laughter vibrate in his chest that followed. "Guess that's genetics for 'ya," he retorted, and you only then realized the ambiguity of both your remarks. A lazy smile formed on your lips and you softly boxed his rib cage.

"Not what I meant," you said with half a laugh and quickly wrapped your arm back around his torso. His warmth was too delicious to give up for even a second. Already you felt ten times warmer than you'd had on your own, and that was just from a few seconds of being wrapped around Joel's middle like a jacket you had been reluctant to bring and now regretted.

"I know, sweetheart," he replied and you could hear the smile in his words. "Always been warm-blooded. S' a blessing in winter and a curse in summer. Always sweatin' my damn balls off from May to September."

"Hmm." You feigned a sound of delight. "Tell me more."

His chest vibrated once more as another round of laughter rumbled through him. This time, it was him who faintly smacked your head at your jest. "I'm serious. Ain't no fun having your balls basically stick to your knees all damn summer."

Your eyelids fluttered close as you rolled your eyes. What a charming picture he was conjuring up in your brain.

"You know, when I said tell me more? I really didn't mean that." You shook your head at the picture of a sweaty ballsack stretched out all the way to the knees. "Christ."

Joel chuckled under you. "You said I'm hot as a' oven. I didn't start this."

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[sscieloz]

Live your life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and still don’t have a lot to offer. Besides, there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them without even questioning.

Warnings: lots of plot w a little bit of smut in the end, as alwayss.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: I tried following the MV in chronological order (except for that little deck scene bc I forgot abt it and when I went back to rewatch the MV I didn’t know where to squeeze it in so wtvr) and I’m kinda proud w the way it turned out ˆˆ I had lots of fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it too!! Also I ❤️ you band!aespa let me be your fucktoy I can take the four of you. and not in a fight (probably in a fight too).

pt.1 | pt.2

“Is this legal?” Ningning asks, hugging the straps of her backpack. She tilts her head up to grasp at the place that would make their stay for this week of competition, its grand walls of concrete leaving her in awe.

You’ve been wiser this time: the cache of the band’s last performance made it possible for them to buy a roof rack for your brother’s— now basically theirs— van, which provided much more space for equipment and luggage. 

“Not really.” The four of you say, in unison. With a deep sigh, you grab your belongings and walk towards the huge stairs that precede the nearly-abandoned place. 

“It used to be a bathhouse,” Karina tells the maknae, holding her by the shoulders as they walk forward in hopes of making her less uneasy. “But now they use it as a vintage, low-cost hostel, or whatever. It’s always cramped during these times of the year, so we’re safe Ningnie. Don’t worry.” 

The bathhouse is huge, although its dirty façade announces it’s been long since the place served its initial purpose. Grass grows around their feet, nearly disappearing into the wild, and there’s a great amount of dirt clinging to their shoes in the parking lot. Three floors are presented in front of them in all of their grandness, in a structure so massive the place could be misguided as a shopping mall. 

Ningning gulps, although she doesn’t look relaxed in the slightest. Going up so many flights of stairs leaves you breathless, resting your hands on your knees as soon as you reach the entry lounge. The inside of the building is much different from what you expected: it’s filled with warm lights, and most importantly, it’s packed. Young people storm from side to side, hanging out in the corners or walking in rushed paces. The mixed voices bring a lively vibe to the open area, and you smile as you watch comforting chaos unravel. Such noise is enough proof that you're here: the girls are actually going to perform in the most important music competition in the country. 

A hand on your shoulder grabs your attention as you reach for your camera, itching to record every second of the journey. Ningning’s voice makes you look up amidst getting lost searching for it in the middle of your stuff.

“Y/n.” She calls for you, staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact. Her shoulders are pressed downwards, announcing a hesitant posture much unlike herself. You hum in response, acknowledging her while still looking through your backpack. “Is it ok if we room together, this time?” 

You watch as Ning brushes her hands repetitively, aware something’s wrong. Ningning might be the youngest of the band, but she’s usually mature, serious, and confident; It’s concerning to have her acting like that.

“Sure, unnie.” You smile at her, looking around as you squeeze her arm in hopes of offering her some reassurance. After making sure the other girls were busy with the check-in, and that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, you ask, “Are they back again? Have you been getting any sleep?”

Ningning’s nod, followed by a tired sigh, is enough of an answer. You know being so dependent on her friends bothers her deeply, even though you’ve told her countless times none of you mind. 

It’s well-known among the girls that Ning struggles with night terrors. Being an independent and strong-willed child made her extremely talented, but also very lonely. Ningning’s parents invested in her and sent her away from her hometown, Harbin before the age of 10. From then on, the maknae found herself all alone in Korea, pushing through an excruciating routine at a shitty entertainment company where people barely knew her name. She never spoke, at first because she didn’t know Korean at all— but also because people rarely talked to her; only urging her through events and evaluations like a doll.

Or better, more like a ghost. The loneliness clung to her bones, making its way through her soul until she wasn’t even sure who she was without it. 

Ever since then, her nightmares have kept her awake at night, trapped in a tangled mess of absurd dreams that deprive her of getting any rest. The hallucinations are so real she’s frequently urged out of sleep with a trembling body and heavy nausea, rushing to the nearest bathroom in complete panic.

Thankfully, not sleeping by herself is something Ningning found to be of much help, even if just a bit. So the girls take turns holding the youngest member close in their arms until her body gives up to exhaustion, still trembling. 

That was before Ning had gotten it under control. With the help of a professional and her friends’ endless support, she eventually learned how to suppress her troubled thoughts. As months went by, her nightmares somehow did not scare her as much as they did when she was a little girl. 

Or so she thought. Asking for help meant things were not looking good at all, which set up an alarm in the back of your mind. 

You had to talk to Karina about it and let the leader know. Out of the three girls, she was the most protective of Ningning: the duo acted like sisters most of the time and had a tight bond. 

“We’ll get rid of those nasty monsters, Ningie.” You tell her, resting your arm on her shoulders as you walk side by side to the elevator. “Fuck them. I’ll personally beat their asses for disturbing our little princess’s sleep.” 

Ningning’s laugh fills up the small corridor, and as she clings to your body, you’re reminded of how small she is. The maknae trusts you; it’s something you feel in the way she reaches out for your embrace, allowing herself to be vulnerable even if not for long. 

“So,” Karina says, staring at the four of you with a serious face. “I know we all want to enjoy the festival too, and we absolutely should. But it’s late, and it’s a week-long competition, so I say we take it easy and rest today.” 

The leader's words reverberate through the elevator, her assertive tone leaving it clear that it was a rather strong-willed suggestion as you all nod. 

“We’ve worked hard for this opportunity.” Minjeong agrees, leaning onto the big mirror that gave the impression that the elevator was much bigger than its actual size. “Let’s not fuck it up. We can have fun later anyway.” 

“Our first performance is tomorrow, but we have a bunch of interviews scheduled before that. We must be well prepared and rested.” Giselle adds, while they get onto their floor and start walking toward their assigned rooms. 

Somehow, the girls always manage to get caught up with something just minutes before getting in the car for their road trip, which meant you arrived later than expected. At nearly 4 AM, everyone was tired, even though the adrenaline of being part of something as big as The Box was enough for them to be a bit jumpy, eyes darting around to capture everything dimmed possible. 

The rooms were better, this time: there wasn’t any dust and the place looked fairly comforting, compared to the last place you stayed at. You drop your backpack and your small suitcase onto the ground without much care.

“Goodnight, cuties. See you in the morning.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes as you throw yourself on the bed, extra tired from being the designated driver for the entire journey. Giselle, Winter, and Karina wave faintly, too, making their way to their room at a quick pace. 

Ningning smiles and watches as you stretch yourself, exhausted. She’s quick to drop her stuff and pull her single bed, although it doesn’t move further than an inch. “Y/n… help me join the beds, please?” 

“Right, right. Of course.” With some effort, the two of you manage to move the two beds together into the center of the room, and you relax for a bit while Ningning occupies the bathroom. The soft sheets that welcome your face are much different from the leather seats of your car, and the change is well welcomed— so much you let out a deep sigh, relieved now that you’re finally able to relax. 

After changing into your pajamas, you stare at the ceiling and you wait for Ningning to hop out of the shower and join you in bed before falling asleep yourself. However, the last thing your mind registers are the soft sounds of Yizhuo’s shower before sleep takes over your body and you lose a short-lived battle to unconsciousness. 

—

Life is anything but peaceful when you give up a normal, ordinary life to live off of music. Not that it’s a bad thing: if anything, the thrill of not having a routine grants to the girls a type of freedom that only comes with art. 

That’s all Karina can think about as the five of you hang out at a big, open field. There’s a fence where you and Ningning sit, and the cool breeze messes up her long, pitch-black hair. More than freedom, the leader’s chest also burns with a deep sense of accomplishment. 

Within a blink, she’s at the bathhouse’s rooftop and this time her bandmates chat lively by the place’s enormous sign. It’s nighttime, and a different kind of unsettlement takes place inside her rebel heart this time, one Karina feels deep in her bones.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dwell much: her senses prove to be right almost immediately when they’re struck by a sea of shooting stars. They fly by so fast Karina barely sees them, making their way through with such strength she’s pushed onto the ground. There’s only enough time for her to grab a single star, grasping the small light within her hands as strongly as she can. 

But just as fast as it happened, the storm is gone. Karina looks up to talk to you and the girls about it, but you’re nowhere to be seen. She frowns, realizing she’s left all alone, under the darkness of a starless sky. 

That’s when she wakes up: breathless, trembling badly as she grabs her neck in hopes of making more air run through her lungs. Despite the cool night, her body is drenched in sweat. Yet, the oldest member can’t help but sigh in relief once she looks up beside her and finds Minjeong peacefully asleep. The leader looks to the other bed, where Giselle’s faint snores can be heard, her mouth hanging slightly open as saliva drools onto the bassist’s pillow.

Karina’s safe. She’s with her girls, in the comfort of their room. 

Yet the loneliness she felt still echoes through her body, hurting enough to draw small tears from her eyes before she acknowledges it. It had been such an empty moment… to look up and not see any of the people she loved and cherished deeply. 

It’s something Karina decides she never wants to feel again. 

“Mhm…” Minjeong stirs, her eyes half open as she stretches her arms out. Karina’s noises probably woke her up— the girl has never been a deep sleeper anyway. “What are you doing awake?” 

A few seconds go by, and Karina stays silent. The answer comes when the blonde is almost falling asleep again, so low Minjeong thinks she’s imagining it. “You left me there, all alone. All of you.” 

“We… who?” Minjeong’s voice is scrappy with confusion. She looks at the leader, scratching her head as she watches Karina get up. “Why would we do that? We’re literally right here, unnie.”

Minjeong’s attempts to understand her friends fail. If anything, she’s bluntly ignored by Karina, who shakes Giselle gently until she manages to get the Japanese girl up, although clearly in a zombie-like state, still barely conscious. 

The weather was still a bit hot by the time they arrived, so the girls agreed to leave the old, arched windows open for the night. Now, the wind had messed up the leader’s wavy hair, and there were little eye-bags under her eyes from waking up so abruptly. As a result of such an intense dream, Karina’s lips trembled and her body lacked its usual strength, which was noticeable by her limp arms. She looks fragile, clearly disturbed by a train of thoughts echoing inside her mind. 

And the way the leader stares at Minjeong so helplessly… It’s the reason why she doesn’t question when Karina offers her hand to help the blonde out of bed, in complete silence. One that remains until the leader unlocks your and Ningning’s room with her spare card, walking onto the bed with light steps— as if she was taken by the wind itself. 

Your bedroom is not as big as theirs, and the improvised bed is still rather small, but Karina makes it fit. Her hand is keen on Giselle’s back, urging the girl back to bed as the leader lies her down once again. Like in a puzzle, Minjeong squeezes herself between your arched back and Ning’s body, careful to not wake up either of you. 

“Feeling better?” She asks Karina, who watches the scene with a small smile. Minejong’s heart is filled with warmth at the girl’s pretty face, as she closes her eyes once again. 

“Much better.” The vocalist murmurs, calm and collected. Being tangled with her girls at one of the country’s most successful music events is enough to dissipate her previous loneliness. There’s nothing else she needed but the five of you. “I’m no longer alone, now.” 

She’s complete.

—

The Box is an event created for Companies from all over the country to show off their assets and make as much profit as possible—and they make sure to capitalize on every second of it, which is as much of a burden as it is an opportunity for its participants. The girls had interviews, outfit changes, and makeup booths provided by sponsors, guaranteed as long as they shot commercials and launched a few good words about their brands. 

Held in a big, open area, the place brings goosebumps to Karina’s stomach, reminiscing too much of her dream as the same clouds wind on the sky, blocking the sun’s path. Just as she had done moments prior, you look up too, frowning. The lack of light makes the day seem gloomier than usual, and a single droplet of rain would result in an atrocious, muddy day. 

And that would be a disaster, for sure.

“So,” After recording the stage they’d perform at in just a few hours, you turn around and nearly shove your camera on Giselle’s face. “Enlighten us, Gigi: why is the festival named The Box if the main stage is actually a big fucking losangle?” 

Giselle’s tone is condescending as she adjusts her perfectly arranged bangs, giving you a dirty look before answering. “Y/n, my love.” She redirects the camera to capture both of your faces, smearing your cheek with her lip gloss. “You just have to accept some things: like the weather, time… and The Box’s setup. It’s how it’s always been, so let’s not dwell on that matter, okay? Thanks.” 

“Very well, then. You heard her.” You nod back at the camera, capturing the massive stage for a few more seconds before pausing the recording. 

Giselle’s passive-aggressiveness was one of her hottest traits, and you loved to watch her boss people around. Which she always made sure of doing, whenever she had the chance to.

The Japanese girl giggles at your words, nudging you gently. Not much further from you, Karina and Ningning stand in a big line for something popular dish. You wave to them, and Giselle straightens her posture, following your stare as she grunts. 

“So, you and Jimin, huh.” She asks, plucking at the grass with her shoes. It’s obvious she’s trying her best to sound nonchalant and not make a big deal out of it.

It was no secret that you were devoted to Karina, surrendering yourself with as much as a whisper from her. Still, it was amusing to you how shy Giselle seemed with her question. Her hesitation was sweet, so cute it draws a smile from your face. 

“Oh… well, yeah.” You shrug, not at all ashamed of her hidden inquiry. “She needs someone to warm up her bed.” You eye Giselle attentively, studying the older girl’s body language before adding, “I can help you with that too if you’d like. I know Jimin unnie wouldn’t mind.”

Your answer catches her off guard, her eyes wide from your straightforwardness. You’re nearly teasing her for being so shocked when she laughs, shaking her head at your straightforwardness. It’s Giselle, after all: the girl has such a flirty nature you’d be surprised if she didn’t give you a run for your money. 

“We’ll see... You’re sure one of a kind, Y/n. That you are.” She answers, with a sultry tone before gently squeezing your arm and vanishing from your sight. 

That is enough for you. The Japanese girl’s gorgeous looks and confident nature make her so desirable and hot— truly an it girl, often leading the group to try out new music styles and different types of choreographies. Giselle is always pushing herself outside her comfort zone. 

It’s good that she knows you’re also willing to try anything she’d like, too. 

Brushing that subject off your mind, you take some time to dive into the festival, just as curious as the girls were: the place is still beautiful, despite the weather. Its lively atmosphere is enchanting, and there is so much happening: from bands singing on minor stages to dance performances not much further from where you stand. Everyone seems eager to participate, and you’re just as excited to watch everything at once.  

This event is also a great opportunity for you, considering you’re still attending university— hoping to major in Media Arts in a year or so. Even though you spend most of the time following the girls around, your passion for filmmaking and photography is also one of the reasons you’re so committed to recording everything your eyes meet. You plan on making this documentary into your final presentation of the year and submitting it to one of your main classes. 

So you record everything: making a full turn to capture your entire experience. You’re so committed to your task that you don’t even notice Minjeong’s frame behind you, the blonde girl not making an effort to move such thing as an inch from out of your way. 

The two of you collide with each other so roughly you have to hold onto the girl’s tiny frame with your free hand to prevent her from a having dirty fall.  Minjeong gives you an ugly look, impatiently wiping the dirt from her plaid skirt. She’s judgy, as always— not a day goes by where the blonde doesn’t give you a hard time.

Although you weren’t exactly peaceful to her, either. 

“Do you ever wear a bra?” She mumbles, annoyed. Minjeong’s fingers press the tip of her nose bridge and she closes her eyes as if dealing with you was enough to drain all of her energy. 

“Why are you looking anyway?” You’re quick to snap back, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Choosing comfort over fashion was something you’d always do, and today was no different. Your look for the day was rather basic but perfect for someone who’d be walking around the entire time: a pair of jeans and a plain white tank top that made your Aespa badge visible to anyone who took a quick look at you. However, that little show of hers has made the dirt that clung onto the fabric attract attention to your breasts, highlighting the way your pierced nipples peeked through. It had only been a few weeks since you and Giselle got them done, so you were still a bit hypersensitive.

Not that you minded, anyway. Minjeong would be a jerk regardless of that: the blonde made her life’s purpose to annoy the shit out of you, and she’s very committed on doing so.

Proving your point, Winter scoffs, all annoyed.

“You always make this shit on purpose, don’t you?” You stare at her, confused, and it seems like she’s had enough. Rolling her eyes, Minjeong brushes past you, nearly dragging you by the shoulders as she stomps away. “Whatever. Whore.”

Minjeong is so rude. Undeniably so, with an insanely stubborn temper. Her mood changes quickly, and it is hard to tell if she genuinely hates you or if it is just some kind of playful banter.

Not that you cared much, honestly. There were many important things for you to worry about, like the amazing festival happening at the moment. You’d deal with that nightmare of a girl some other time. 

Instead of allowing the petite girl to disturb your mind, you decide to walk around by yourself too— despite preferring to be surrounded by the girls at all times, you were cool to be on your own.

You were deeply committed to making a masterpiece out of your clips. If the work you handed in was good enough, then perhaps your professor would overlook the number of absences on your attendance sheet and give you a nice grade. 

After walking around for a few minutes, a certain stage catches your attention: the structure is small and curiously held like a boxing ring, where nine girls sing and dance in beautiful harmony. The space is so far from the center of the festival its last rounds of chairs nearly drag onto the woods that surround the place. 

The girls performing are all dressed in dark pants, white crop tops, and black ties, and they’re incredibly in synch while still making complicated moves. Their voices are sweet, and so is the music that flows to your ears: it’s a cover of one of your favorite songs, KARA’s Mr.

Your eyes go straight to the sign that hangs in front of the stage, looking for said group’s name. Thankfully, it’s easy to find, both in Hangul and Romanized.

Fromis9.

The nine girls’ bright stage presence fills up the area, and it amazes you how coordinated they are, not one outshining the other despite being so many. No lines are stolen in the song; instead, they add to each other beautifully, reminding you of your girls. The contrast is fascinating, from Aespa’s four-member band to those strangers, who sing cheerful songs like this will be the last happy summer of their lives. 

You’re enchanted by them, truthfully. Not only talented, the girls seem genuinely sweet, as they spin and jump around to hype up the dead crowd. And oh, they’re stunning: each one with striking features, ones that surely seem like they’ve been taken straight out of a fairytale. 

You make sure to record their entire performance, as well as the little playful moments reserved for interacting with their fans and supporters. Soon enough, the song ends, leaving the group breathless but happy. You watch as the girls bow and take turns passing small water bottles around, tired from giving their all on stage. 

A few of them start a small discourse, although you don’t pay enough attention to grasp the meaning of their words. You’re too busy staring at one of them instead, hiding behind your camera so she doesn’t see how enamored you are. 

The girl is small, but her slim waist and toned muscles announce she must spend most of her free time at the gym. An energetic pink-haired girl clings to one of her arms, providing a clear contrast to her long, pitch-black hair, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest: if anything, she hugs the energetic girl back, laughing and she twirls her friend around.

Luckily for you, there’s a big paper clasped in front of her shirt, just like every artist who is currently performing and competing at The Box. You search for her name with expectation, just like you’ve done with her group’s name.

Hers say, Saerom. 

A beautiful name for an enchanting girl. 

However, it’s her face that surprises you the most. She’s beautiful, of course— stunningly so, but so is everyone at this festival: something expected for a place with such a high concentration of artists, models, and people in the entertainment industry in general. But as you look into her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, you’re surprised to find such kind eyes staring back at you. Saerom’s eyes provide her soft, almost ethereal look as she nods to you. It’s a faint action, one a distracted eye would barely notice once she moves back to the middle of the stage with her bandmates, yet you’d never miss it. There’s no way she wouldn’t stand out, despite her plain outfit. 

You could stare at her for hours. 

Although you’re incapable of doing so: in a blink, steady hands grab your camera, and your arms are urged down so fast you nearly let it fall on the ground. Nothing disastrous happens, thanks to your steady grip and good reflex, but your vision is blocked by a serious Karina, fuming as she stares angrily at you. 

“What are you doing, Y/n?” The leader’s cocky, angry voice is something you only hear when she’s feeling intimidated or when she wants to be petty, which is unusual for the occasion. Why would she be so defensive towards you?

Karina usually yaps her heart out until your ears hurt from her complaints. It’s a normal thing for her to do, whenever she’s pissed. However, she doesn’t say anything this time, clearly waiting— demanding an explanation. 

So you lift your camera, playfully poking her in a failed attempt of easing the grumpiness out of her. “I’m making The Box’s documentary as my final presentation.” You stay on your tiptoes, trying to get a hold of the view Karina is blocking so confidently, but it’s useless by now: the performance is over, and the Fromis9 members have already retreated backstage. “For that class I told you about, remember?”

Karina rolls her eyes, ignoring your explanation as she directs you in the opposite direction. With a resolute tone, she brushes off the matter. “Whatever. Listen, Y/n: you should only focus on us, your band. There’s no need for you to look at anyone else.”

Oh, Karina’s fuming. It’s easy to tell, from the way she refuses to meet your face to the red that paints her cheeks. You giggle, enjoying her subtle possessiveness. 

Truth be told, you thrived on being reassured just as much as the girls did. The only difference was that you made an immense effort to hide how much it aroused you, well aware they’d use it as an advantage. 

Besides, there was a bit of truth behind her words: the girls were the only ones you truly felt connected to; they were yours just as much as you were theirs, and you didn’t feel like you needed to meet new people.

“Of course, Jimin unnie.” You nod, walking next to her as you turn your camera off and place it back in your backpack. “Aespa is the only band worth looking at, anyway.” 

Karina blossoms under your praise, smiling brightly as she kisses you gently, her irritation gone. “Good girl. Now let’s go to the main stage. There are only two hours until our performance, and the girls are starting to get ready.” 

You’d like to tease her back a bit but now wasn’t the time. Not when the band’s nerves were all over the place, nervous they’d fuck up the opportunity of their lives. No, you wouldn’t do such a thing. You’d be their anchor, peace, and most faithful supporter as you always were, ready to remind the girls of their true potential. 

With that, you and Karina walk back to the main stage with synchronized steps, and the moment with Saerom is brushed off to the back of your mind.

You've probably imagined the entire thing, anyway. There was nothing to wonder. 

—

“Hello, girls. Are you Aespa?” The staff asks, entering the room with his eyes glued to the list in his hands. After the five of you nod, he adds, with a comforting smile, “You’re on in 30. Come after you finish your makeup and clothes so we can start the soundcheck and set up your microphones.”

With another nod, you fall into a nervous silence once again. The girls have waited for this opportunity for so long; the crowd’s heated screams could be heard from where you stood, only adding to the girl’s expectations. It was the first time they performed in front of so many people, let alone at such a big and renowned festival. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Giselle mumbles, softening her necklace as if it were suffocating her. Her breaths were uneven, her eyes fixated on the ground. 

Karina smiles softly at the girl. As the leader, she knows it’s her duty to look composed and relaxed, to tranquilize her bandmates. “You’re not going to throw up, Gigi. You just need some air. Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

The leader grabs Giselle by the arm, urging her up. As they go through the door, Ningning rushes to follow their steps. 

“I need to breathe too.” She gulps, not even sparing you a glance as she runs to catch up with her friends. 

The nerves were striking, and they needed to look composed so they’d give their all on stage, as always.

You and Minjeong were the only ones left backstage, which allowed you to take some time to study her better. The blonde was perfectly still on the couch, with a rigid posture and hands clasped tightly on her lap. She looked composed, almost bored, as she always did— but you know her better. 

Minjeong’s muscles were visibly tense, and her left leg was bouncing so much you were afraid it’d be chopped off from her body. She’s usually so composed, rarely giving a fuck about anything in her life. Whatever it was, the most Minjeong would do was roll her eyes at it or give it a nasty, rude response. Nothing else.

Seeing her bottle up her feelings like that is something that leaves you deeply uncomfortable. The way she deals with her emotions is none of your business of course, and it’s not like she ever talks about how she’s feeling with anyone anyway. 

Minjeong rarely talks about herself; not to you or her bandmates. She’s simply someone very private when it comes to that matter. It’s something the blonde struggles with— understanding and acknowledging her emotions are not things that come to her naturally, so Minjeong would often carry her burdens alone until the feelings get so heavy she explodes, taking it off on someone who has nothing to do with whatever it is she’s going through. 

Although it surprises you to see how deeply caring the girl can be. Minjeong, who knows Karina loves apple-flavored candy and sorts them out for her leader, even though they all think it’s gross. Minjeong, whose personal space is sacred, allows Ningning to be as clingy as she wants, aware the maknae longs for physical contact after being deprived of it so much as a child. Minjeong, who is the most competitive person you’ve ever met, but lets Giselle beat her at deck games whenever they notice the Japanese girl is feeling down. 

Minjeong, who despises you thoroughly, but snuck a new SD card into your purse after seeing you struggle with your camera for a few days. 

You didn’t want her to make her big debut feeling like a nervous wreck. She needs to relax, and not be so tense otherwise she won’t do good in her performance. 

And you know just what to do. 

With a sigh, you drop your hand from the doorknob and turn to her, leaning on the wall to take a better look at her. 

“You’re nervous.” You state, smirking at the sight of her face growing red—the blonde girl, usually so collected… oh, how she hates to be caught. 

Most importantly, Minjeong hates you can always see right through her. 

“Well no shit, Sherlock.” 

Walking towards her with small, unhurried steps, you sit right next to her, crossing your legs as you lean onto her.

“I can help you with that.” You whisper to her, staring at her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Minjeong scrunches her nose but doesn’t move away. Her answer, however, comes immediately— not an ounce of hesitation coming from her mouth. “Not at all.”

“Good.” You cup her face. “Wise girl.”

Leaning in, you capture Minjeong’s lips in a messy kiss. Despite her fiery personality, she tastes sweet, and you savor the strawberry essence of her lip gloss. Kissing Minjeong is addictive, yet you can’t seem to get enough of her. You lick her lips and devour her until your lungs scream for air, and the two of you get off each other when there’s no air and you’re both left desperate and breathless. 

Minjeong’s blonde hair flows freely, her scrutinizing stare forgotten the moment the two of you got so close your breaths entwined. For a moment, you don’t do anything but stare at each other, as you look for any signs of what she’d like to do next. You’re nearly sure she’d tell you to get lost until she grabs your neck and pulls you close, kissing you for the second time. 

“You’re completely insufferable, Y/n.” She murmurs in between the kiss as her thumb brushes down your neck. Even though there’s a faint pressure, her touch is almost soothing, urging you down to your knees. “Now, do more.”

You’re more than eager to follow her wishes, urging her pants and underwear down in a swift motion. Minjeong’s pussy is so pretty, all pink, swollen, and glistening, and you lick your lips with anticipation. The blonde girl lies comfortably on the couch as she spreads her folds with two of her fingers— showing herself to your hungry gaze.

“How do I look right now, Y/n?” Her tone is drenched with mockery as you squeeze her thighs, drawing a shiver from her. Your hands trace tiny circles on her milky skin, and you choose to ignore her; too focused on her beautiful body on display for you. 

Minjeong’s free hand goes to grip your hair, annoyed by your lack of response. “Fine, then. Do you want to know how you look?” 

Her malicious smile, much different from her delicate features, is what makes you shiver at her concentration. Giving her thighs faint bites, you ask, “Enlighten me, Minjeong.” 

“Like a whore.” Her grip tightens and you can’t help but bite harder this time. “Hey! See, I’ve always said you’re just a cheap who—“

Minjeong is silenced by your warm tongue on her pussy, licking a big stripe of her sex, as you go all the way up to suck on her clit as well. Her high-pitched moans are like music to your ears, and you take turns sucking her sensitive bud and letting out some lewd, loud sounds as you nearly make out with her pussy. 

“Do you want my fingers, pretty girl?” You mumble, staring at her through your lashes. 

Minjeong looks like a painting, beautiful with her mouth half-opened and a thin cover of sweat covering her brows. She nods frantically, urging you even closer.

Greedy, that’s what she is.

“Yes, please.” It’s the first time you’ve ever seen use her manners, so you’re quick to comply. “Fuck, Y/n…” 

Two of your fingers enter her cunt without any resistance as you thrust hard and fast. She bucks her hips to add to the stimulation, and you’re graced with the glorious view of her abs, thankful she chose a tiny crop top for the day. You want to see her tits, too, but it’s not like you’re in any position to demand anything— not while Minjeong uses you as a toy, rocking onto your mouth as her moans grow louder and louder. 

You feel her walls tensing up, and her toes curl as she tells you, “Y/n, I’m going t—“

“Cum for me, Minjeongie.” You give her clit one last, harsh suck, as her breathing becomes even quicker. “That’s it, let go.”

Minjeong follows your commands, reaching her orgasm with a high-pitched moan as she squeezes your head in between her thighs. Her body trembles from the stimulation, and you keep your fingers inside her walls until she’s calmed down enough that her screams are reduced to heavy breaths. You lick her clean, then, careful to not touch her clit as you eat her out for a few other moments. 

What’s most surprising to you, though, is the delicacy in her touch as she urges you up, tasting herself on your lips. 

“Sweet.” She giggles, before grabbing your tank top and pushing you off her. Minjeong’s obsessed with oversized jeans, and her current ones look huge on her tiny waist as she takes her time with buttoning up. “I really needed that, Y/n. Thanks.”

You don’t bother to hide a cocky smile as you nod, shrugging. 

“You’re going own that fucking stage today, Minjeong. All of you.” It’s what they were born to do. There isn’t a slight possibility of them not doing their absolute best on stage.

“I know.” Minjeong looks around, bouncing back and forth with her hands on her jeans’ back pocket. After a pause, she adds, with a quiet tone, “You’re going to be there, right? At the front row. Recording and all. It’s one of the only things you’re useful for.” 

You smile, understanding the hidden meaning behind her bored tone. “Of course, I will, dumbass. I’ll be there with you, as always.”

You’d always be there for your girls: cheering, supporting, or helping the band with anything they needed. 

Karina, Ningning, Giselle, and Minjeong were not sure of when you had become such an important figure in their lives, but there was something they all agreed on: they’ve grown too fond of you now. It was impossible to let you go. 

Not that you had any intentions of leaving their side, anyway. 

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[babybeel]

— violent

“shut the fuck up! you don’t know what you’re saying, shut up!”

your voice is thick with anger as it bounces off the walls, bitterness echoing through. mammon feels his blood boil before he can even see you, hoping for the best though fearing the worst. his talons have begun to peak through, sharp claws digging into the meat of his palms as his hands close into tight fists, and he feels his shoulder blades stiffen as his wings strain and ache against his shirt.

rounding the corner, the older brothers bear witness to you shouting at a group of lowly demons, teeth bared and gaze sharp. your pacts are glowing, piercing through the night as you let loose, emotions controlling you. beelzebub stands protectively in front of you, expression vicious though solemn, and belphegor holds a wary arm before you, though his tail whips behind him in similar anger. the brothers wonder with churning stomachs just what had been said.

“oh look,” one of the lesser demons dares to sneer, clearly thinking high of itself as a ugly smirk rises onto its face, having caught sight of the others, “maybe the avatar of greed isn’t so stupid after all, he can come when called. though, you better put him on a leash before he wanders off and fucks everything up again.”

the brothers don’t bother to hide their demon forms any longer, turning into a fearsome flurry of wings and fangs and claws. lucifer takes a furious stride forward, ready to quash anyone who insulted his younger brother and a terrifying aura rolls off of him in suffocating waves.

you beat him to it.

“sounds like you’re stupid, so thick you can’t even listen when someone tells you to shut your fucking mouth,” you snarl, entire body pushing against belphie’s arm, “you’ll never be worth a shred of what mammon is. he’s not an avatar for nothing. he’s reliable and dependable - he completes his duties, protects his brothers through everything and takes care of me too. you dare speak about mammon whilst you’re trying to amount to anything and i promise i’ll be there to stop you getting anywhere near his level.”

your breath is ragged when you finish, venomous threat weighing heavy in the air. you finally take a step back from belphie’s hold, decidedly having said enough. still, your expression doesn’t relax, eyes fierce and teeth on show.

the group of lesser demons begin to cower, shuffling uncomfortably as their ringleader swallows thickly, suddenly realising what it’d done as your severe words sink into its skin and the seven avatars of sin surround you. it opens and closes its mouth a handful of times, lower lip quivering as its earlier confidence abandons it. it’s only a second after that the demons scramble away, feet panicked as they slap against the floor. they’re slower than the avatars that follow them.

a call of your name dissolves the remaining tension, gentle and familiar and only just above a whisper.

“oh, mammon,” you turn, eyes softening at the only brother who remained with you. “oh, my mammon,” you murmur again, wrapping yourself around his torso, as tight as you possibly can. his open arms quickly return the hold, your body still trembling ever so slightly against his. but the anger soon gives way to relief and mammon lets out a sigh of his own as it floods through his pact.

“it’s ok,” mammon hushes, “i’m ok.”

against your every fibre, you pull back and the loss of your cheek against mammon’s chest leaves him uncomfortably cold. your hands snake up to cup his face, stark tenderness so blatant it’s hard to picture that you had been snarling and spitting a few minutes ago. “you sure?” you ask, staring straight into mammon’s eyes that glimmer gold at the contact.

mammon nods, taking the chance to lean into your touch, “course i am, you and my brothers look after me too. i’m your first man and you’re my first human.”

“you promise?” your tone is adamant and unrelenting, despite how mammon’s words had left you melty warm.

mammon lets the smile break onto his lips, lets your hands pull him downwards until your foreheads are pressed against each other. “promise,” he hums, “i’m ok as long as i’ve got you.”