#except i thought it up in my twisted little mind
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what if i gnawed on your ribcage like a mouse and then when you cried i cried and bled pieces of my soul inbetween your bones to fill the cracks left by my teeth and my soul was gold like ichor and we made artwork far more glorious than the gods could ever divine for themselves what about that
#and then i had too many thoughts#quotes#except i thought it up in my twisted little mind#spilt ink#poetry
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pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.
#AND I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE I HAD THEM STEALING THEIR WAY OMTO#THE PLATFORMS WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN oh i love being right#also that all the kids are there watching when he kills the guy whose name i forget because i simply cannot hold names in my brain but the#evil one. who i was like oh thank GOD he died i was so sick of this plot he kept killing everyone & i screeched when he almost got claudia#something something calla saying ‘you’re not a child anymore’ about tenax’s cruelty to the brothers (which in my twisted narratives. sorry.#there’s only one scorpus who KNEW the child tenax was. the child he’s still healing and caring for. all of the children whose eyes he looks#into and sees a hurt that’s just like his? the children tenax saved whether he’ll admit it or not? scorpus saved him. and that’s all)#(also this is a terrible thing to say i knew it about but like. oh i knew it about the master of the house. tenax making sure NO ONE#touches the kids or does anything with them really but Claudia and him—the people he trusts which also now includes calla but he makes sure#it’s someone he knows. also do we have a claudia backstory??? or would i just get to invent a reason why she’s there and what she’s doing#and why she’s so loyal to tenax. did she also see the child he was and that’s why she’s so protective of him but also why she gets along#with calla so well because the two of them see how he’s festered in that. like calla fully has the rights here i think she should rip him a#new one for his lack of decency and good qualities he can be corrupt without being cruel y’know. and he should be called out on his#peter pan ass behavior you’re not a child!! there are such consequences!!! dream a little bigger a little kinder!!! change the dream you#made up with scorpus when you were a young angry teenager and make it fit who you are NOW. the life you want NOW not the life you thought#you should have & deserved. what did you learn from growing up. what changed. what do you need now & what do you want. not the same things#and i too wish that this was 30k and covered their entire backstory#BUT IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION of i also need it to be 100k canon-divergent (presumably. i’m only through episode eight. but i can’t imagine#that they will follow the plot EYE would write because they need to have a second season & you can’t have that without conflict which means#titus overthrown scorpus is gonna die metaphorically or literally etc etc the gold faction in shambles but technically triumphant with#domitian on the throne and tenax in a position of patrician power accepted into their society but still not equal and happy. whereas lmao#domitian you’re getting shipped off to some other city because your plot to overthrow titus failed and yet he is merciful enough he won’t#kill you he just sends you and hermes together (at which point over the months long journey you forgive and re-learn each other bc titus#didn’t know of the betrayal he thought it would be kind to send your (ex-)lover with you. do we see how this works perfectly) & tenax falls#back into the underworld where he now knows he belongs because blood is everything except when it isn’t. when he realizes what he has is#worth more. no matter if the blood he has is tainted or patrician the blood oath he swore with scorpus iron on their tongues means more.#calla’s split lip defending him and their winnings. kwaame’s blood on the hard packed sand of the arena fighting to stay alive and to come#home to them. the fire in aura’s cheeks when she laughs at ivy. SURPRISEEEE EVERY NARRATIVE IS A FOUND FAMILY I GUESS IT SPRUNG ON ME TOO.#and tenax doesn’t mind a little dirt and bribery every now and then. doesn’t aspire to former heights and shining brilliant out of shadows.#the gaudiness of gold &flash of fools’ dreams. YES CAN I FINALLY PLS GET MY BLACK FACTION TO REPLACE THE ILL-FATED GOLD THATLL COLLAPSE W/D
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Roots and Branches
Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.
Summary: Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.
Word Count: About 18.6k.
notes: I’ve been wanting to write a story in a lumberjack AU for a while now, and here it is. It ended up being longer than I expected, but I have no regrets. In my mind, Lumberjack!Bucky=Beefy!Bucky.
By the way, I’m still dreaming that someone, feeling inspired, creates Bucky as an NPC for Stardew Valley. I would kiss the ground that person walks on.
The city stretched behind her, a blur of steel and noise shrinking in the rearview mirror. Relief and uncertainty warred in her chest, but she clung tightly to the thought of what lay ahead. The town had always been her haven: sunlit summers chasing fireflies, her grandmother’s laughter ringing from the porch, and the quiet that once cradled her restless mind in peace.
It had been years since she’d last visited, but the constant noise, relentless crowds, and a recent, unsettling encounter had made city life unbearable. Her grandmother’s house, nestled at the edge of a sprawling forest, now felt like her only escape. It wasn’t perfect -her uncle had warned her about the repairs needed- but she’d gladly trade peeling paint and creaky floors for the chaos she was leaving behind. Besides, without rent to worry about and the freedom of her home-office proofreading job, she had the space and time to start over, one step at a time.
The road stretched endlessly before her, winding through rolling hills and patches of dense forest. The further she drove, the quieter it became. No blaring horns, no traffic, just the hum of her engine and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by the wind. She cracked the window, letting in the crisp scent of pine and earth.
For the first time in months, she felt her shoulders begin to relax. And then, with an ominous thunk, the car jerked to one side.
Her stomach sank as she guided the vehicle to the shoulder, the once-smooth ride now bumpier than a cobblestone street. Stepping out, she found her fears confirmed: the back tire sagged, utterly deflated.
“Of course,” she muttered, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Why not?”
She retrieved the jack and wrench from the trunk, determined to fix it herself. She wasn’t helpless, after all. But after twenty minutes of grunting, tugging, and nearly twisting her wrist, the lug nuts refused to budge. Maybe they just needed a little more effort.
Two hours later, she slumped against the side of the car, her arms aching and her patience long gone. She’d tried everything -kicking the wrench, sitting on it for leverage- everything except calling for help, though the lack of cell signal made that impossible. Her lip trembled as she bit down hard, determined not to let the tears of frustration win.
“You wanted quiet? You got quiet,” she muttered, her voice tight with irritation. Walking seemed like the only option now. Maybe she’d stumble upon a house, a gas station, anything. Resolving trying her luck, she locked the car and started forward, her boots crunching against the gravel shoulder.
The air hung heavy with stillness, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The walk felt endless, each step feeding her doubts. What if there was nothing ahead? What if she’d made a mistake leaving the car? Just as she was debating turning back, a low rumble cut through the quiet.
She froze, breath hitching as her eyes darted down the empty road. The sound grew louder, unmistakably the steady growl of a truck engine. Relief flooded her chest, tempered by a flicker of caution.
Moving closer to the edge of the road, she raised a tentative hand to wave. Moments later, an old, sturdy truck came into view, slowing as it approached.
Bucky wasn’t in any rush. The late afternoon light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the road ahead. He kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. The hum of the truck engine was a comforting sound, a backdrop to his thoughts.
As he rounded a gentle curve, something caught his eye up ahead: a car parked awkwardly on the shoulder. He frowned, slowing the truck. From the angle it was sitting, it didn’t look abandoned, but it wasn’t going anywhere either. A flat tire, maybe? His brow furrowed. Someone had to own it, but there wasn’t another soul in sight.
He continued slowly, his gaze drifting to the road ahead, and that’s when he spotted her. She stood near the edge of the road, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hand half-raised in a cautious wave. She didn’t look panicked, just tired, a little frustrated, and undeniably relieved to see another human being out here.
He brought the truck to a stop a few feet ahead of her, letting the engine idle as he leaned across the seat to glance out the passenger window. “Need some help?” he called, keeping his tone easy.
She stepped closer, her cautious wave lowering as she approached. When she stopped short of the truck, her polite smile faltered, her gaze locking on his face.
He didn’t notice at first, but she stared, caught off guard by the sight ahead of her. Shoulder-length dark hair framed handsome face, shadowed with a day or two of stubble. And those eyes… crystal blue, so piercing they looked like they belonged to the lead character of a romance novel rather than the driver of an old truck.
Her lips parted slightly as her thoughts ran wild. Maybe she was hallucinating. Two hours of frustration and the heat of the sun must have gotten to her, conjuring a guy from one of those pink-covered novels she’d been proofreading.
“You okay?” His voice pulled her back, laced with just enough concern to cut through the fog in her head.
She blinked rapidly, heat flooding her cheeks as she scrambled for an excuse. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just… fatigue, I guess.” She gave a quick laugh, brushing her hair back as if that would somehow erase her embarrassment. “It’s been a long day.”
Bucky didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Yeah, I can imagine.”
She cleared her throat, trying to sound more composed. “I’d really appreciate the help. The tire’s flat and the lug nuts are stuck. I’ve tried everything, but they won’t budge.”
Bucky nodded again, shifting the truck into park before stepping out. “I saw the car back there. Mind if I take a look?”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she offered a more genuine smile. “Please. That’d be great.”
She couldn’t help but stare as he climbed out of the truck. It wasn’t just the striking eyes or the scruff that made him look like he’d stepped off a book cover, it was everything.
Worn jeans sat low on his hips, perfectly fitted to legs that spoke of strength and endurance. A red flannel shirt, snug across his broad shoulders and well-defined arms, hinted at a life of hard, honest work. His boots crunched against the gravel as he moved with an effortless confidence that made it nearly impossible to look away.
Yup, she thought, feeling her cheeks warm again. A lead character.
She snapped her gaze away, trying to focus on literally anything else, the road, the sky, her worn-out sneakers. But as he approached, the heat creeping up her neck didn’t fade.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his brow furrowing slightly.
She blinked and met his eyes, cursing herself for getting caught again. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” she said waving a hand. “Just tired, I guess. Two hours of trying to fight with a tire does that to you.”
He nodded slowly, and his expression softened. “Fair enough.”
She gestured vaguely toward her car in the distance. “It’s over there. I’d appreciate the help, it’s like the universe welded those lug nuts on.”
When they reached the car, she unlocked it and retrieved the tools from the trunk, setting them down beside the flat tire. She stepped back, watching as he crouched and took the wrench in his hand. With what seemed like no effort at all, he twisted the lug nuts loose, the metal giving way under his grip as if it had never been stuck in the first place. She stared again, biting her lip as her gaze lingered on how his forearm flexed under the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel. Completely oblivious to her scrutiny, he worked in focused silence, switching out the flat tire with methodical ease. When he finished, he stood up, brushed the dust from his hands, and glanced at the car. His gaze snagged on the backseat, where duffel bags and boxes were crammed together.
“Looks like you’re movin’,” he said, his voice low and gruff.
She nodded, brushing her hands on her jeans as if she’d done any of the work. “Yeah, I am. Heading to town. My grandmother used to have a house there, I’m moving into it.”
Bucky glanced at her, his sharp blue eyes unreadable, but not unkind. “The old house near the woods?”
Her brows lifted in surprise. “Yeah, actually. You know it?”
He shrugged lightly, his gaze slipping to the ground. “Small town,” he murmured.
Unsure if his hesitation was discomfort or just shyness, she shifted her weight. “Well, thanks again for helping. I’m Y/n, by the way.”
He didn’t respond for a moment and then blinked, as if snapping out of a thought. “Bucky,” he said simply, his tone softening just enough to feel welcoming.
“Well, nice to meet you, Bucky.” Her smile was warm despite the long, frustrating day.
He nodded slightly, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. “You should get goin’,” he said after a pause. “Road’s pretty empty once it gets dark.”
She nodded, grateful. “Right. Thanks again.”
He gave a short nod before turning to his truck. She lingered for a moment, watching as he climbed into the cab and started the engine, before finally slipping into her car and pulling back onto the road.
He gave her a brief nod, turning to his truck without saying another word. She stood there for a moment, watching him go, before climbing into her car.
Bucky climbed into his truck, shutting the door with a quiet click. As the engine rumbled to life, his thumbs tapped idly on the steering wheel, his mind drifting. So, she was the woman moving into the old blue house, the one the old ladies in town had been gossiping about lately.
“Fresh face,” they’d said, curious and speculative. The kind of talk he usually tuned out, but now he could picture her, standing on the side of the road with that friendly smile.
His jaw tightened as he glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of her car pulling back onto the road. Attractive, sure, but that wasn’t his business. He wasn’t in the habit of noticing things like that anymore, or at least, he tried not to.
Shaking his head slightly, he put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.
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She reached the house in the late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun painting the wooden structure in warm tones. From a distance, it looked charming, but as she got closer, the years of neglect became more apparent. A shutter hung by a single hinge, swinging slightly in the breeze, and the porch sagged in the middle, its boards warped and cracked.
It didn’t seem unlivable, though, and for that, she was grateful. The windows were intact, the roof looked solid, and the front door swung open without resistance when she unlocked it. She stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of a house left empty for too long. Dust coated the floors and every surface in sight, but nothing that a good cleaning wouldn’t fix.
Walking through the rooms, she made a mental list of things that needed attention. The walls could use fresh paint, the porch would definitely need repairs before it became a hazard, and a few wobbly cabinet doors in the kitchen caught her eye. It was all manageable.
By the time she returned to the living room, she realized the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the house in shadows. She flipped the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. A quick check of the other switches confirmed her suspicion, there wasn’t a single light bulb in the entire property.
“Figures,” she muttered, setting her hands on her hips. Luckily, she’d packed a portable lamp. Its soft glow filled the room as she set it on the floor and unrolled her sleeping bag in the corner, where the old sofa used to sit.
Dinner was a simple affair: a cup of instant noodles and a bottle of water, eaten cross-legged on the floor. She was too tired to think about anything elaborate, and the stillness of the house was oddly comforting after the chaos of the city.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day’s events, replaying the encounter on the road. Bucky’s face flickered in her mind, those piercing blue eyes, the way his long, dark hair framed his sharp features, the slight rasp to his voice when he’d asked if she was okay. She bit her lip, and the memory of the way he’d effortlessly changed the tire brought a faint smile to her lips as her eyelids grew heavy. The moving truck will arrive by morning, and with better lighting, she’ll assess the house and start making it livable. Ideally, she would have cleaned beforehand, but the moving company only had that date available, so she didn’t have much choice.
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Right at 8 o’clock sharp, the rumble of the moving truck echoed down the quiet street. She stepped outside, greeting the movers and directing them where to place the furniture. It didn’t take long to realize the porch’s sagging boards were going to be a problem. One mover nearly put his foot through a weakened plank, and after a few close calls, they opted to bring in as much as possible through the windows.
After tipping the movers and seeing them off, she grabbed her bag and headed into town. The general store was easy to find, nestled on the main street between a bakery and a small diner. The scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air as she pushed open the store’s creaky door, the tiny bell overhead jingling.
Inside, the aisles were narrow and well-stocked, offering everything from cleaning supplies to locally-made jams. She grabbed a basket and began filling it with essentials: sponges, dish soap, floor cleaner, and a few staples for the pantry.
At the checkout line, she felt the weight of a few curious stares. Small towns were like that, everyone wanted to know who the newcomer was. A man in line behind her gave her a polite nod, and a couple of women nearby exchanged whispers before one of them, an older lady with a kind smile, stepped forward.
“Moving into the old blue house on Maple, aren’t you?” the woman asked, her voice warm and curious.
She blinked, surprised but not entirely caught off guard. “That’s right,” she said, returning the smile. “Spent summers there as a kid. It’s been a while, though.”
“Well, welcome back,” the woman said, clasping her hands. “I’m Dorothy. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Actually…” she hesitated, seizing the moment. “The house needs a bit of work, especially the porch. Do you know a good carpenter?”
Dorothy’s face lit up. “Sam Wilson’s the man you’re looking for. Runs a workshop just outside town. He’s dependable and does fine work. I’ll jot down his address for you.”
After paying for her items, she loaded everything into the car and headed toward the workshop. The drive was short, and soon she spotted a neatly painted sign that read Wilson Woodworks. The building was modest but well-kept, with stacks of lumber and partially finished projects visible through the open garage door.
Grabbing her notepad and pen, she stepped out of the car, hoping Sam would be able to help bring her grandmother’s house back to life.
The workshop smelled of sawdust and varnish, the soft hum of a saw cutting through wood filling the air. She peered curiously through the open entry, her gaze scanning the neatly organized chaos: tools hanging on pegboards, wood shavings scattered across the floor, and a workbench cluttered with projects in progress. Near the center of the space stood a man in a faded gray t-shirt and jeans, his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms. His easy smile and confident posture immediately struck her as someone who knew his craft.
“Sam Wilson?” she asked, stepping further inside.
The man turned, his grin widening. “That’s me,” he replied warmly. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi. I’m Y/n. I just moved into town, to the old blue house on Maple Street. The porch is in pretty bad shape, and I was told you’re the one to call.”
Sam gave an approving nod, wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “Maple Street, huh? Yeah, I’ve worked on a couple of those houses. They’ve got good bones but can be stubborn. I’d have to take a look before I can give you a plan.”
“Of course,” she said, relieved. “When do you think you’d be able to-”
Before she could finish, a gruff voice interrupted from the back of the shop. “Sam, I told you that damn hinge on the-”
Bucky appeared, stepping out from what looked like a storage area, drying his hands on a towel. His words faltered the moment he spotted her, his blue eyes locking onto hers in surprise. He froze for a moment, the towel still in his hand, before nodding stiffly.
“Hey,” he said, with a cautious tone.
She offered him a small, friendly smile. “Hello again.”
Sam’s gaze darted between the two of them, a knowing grin spreading across his face like a Cheshire cat. “Well, well,” he drawled. “You two already know each other so soon?”
Bucky shot him a look -half warning, half exasperation- but Sam’s grin only widened.
“We met yesterday,” she explained, glancing between them. “Bucky helped me with a flat tire.”
“Did he now?” Sam leaned back against the workbench, crossing his arms. “Man of many talents, huh, Buck?”
Bucky muttered something under his breath, his ears turning slightly red as he turned away to busy himself with a random piece of wood.
Sam laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t let him fool you,” he said to her, his tone light. “He’s a softie under all that brooding.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, unable to suppress a smile.
Bucky’s muttering grew quieter as he moved further into the workshop, but Sam wasn’t done. “You’re in luck, though,” he said to her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you’re gonna give his wood a good use.”
She let out a small laugh, not entirely sure why but unwilling to seem rude. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she said with a shrug, hoping that was the right response.
The sound of tools crashing followed by a sharp, muttered curse that carried through the workshop interrupted the exchange, and she turned toward the source. “Is he okay?”
Sam smirked, his tone teasing as he said, “Oh, he’s just fine. Just gets a little... tense when his work’s involved. My friend here is one of my suppliers. Keeps me stocked up on the best lumber in town.”
“Oh, I see,” she replied, her gaze briefly flicking toward where Bucky had disappeared. Inwardly, she couldn’t help but think that his... thick build seemed to match with the work lumber suppliers did. “So, should we arrange a time for you to come by and look at the porch?” she asked, mentally slapping herself and steering the conversation back on track.
Sam grinned, leaning casually against the counter. “Tomorrow works for you? Say mid-morning?”
“That sounds great,” she agreed, already mentally listing what she might need to tidy up before his visit.
As her car disappeared down the road, Bucky emerged from the back of the workshop, his steps deliberate and brooding as he approached Sam.
“What was that?” he asked, his voice low but edged with irritation.
Sam raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as he crossed his arms. “What was what?”
“You know what,” Bucky growled, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t.”
Sam held up his hands, his expression mock-innocent. “Don’t what? You’re projecting, man. She’s just a new neighbor who needs some help with her porch. That’s all.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping even lower. “Whatever your bird brain is planning on doing, don’t. I’m not... Just stay out of my business.”
Sam gave him a sidelong look, clearly unimpressed by Bucky’s gruff warning. “You think too highly of yourself, Barnes,” he said with a smirk. “I’m just trying to help the lady out, same as you did.”
The logger threw one last dirty glance at Sam, muttering under his breath. “Next cargo’s in four days,” he grumbled, already heading for the door.
Sam’s amused chuckle followed him, but Bucky ignored it, his boots hitting the workshop floor with heavy steps.
As he reached the truck, a sharp twinge in his left arm made him curse softly. He grabbed it, flexing his fingers out of habit, then glanced up at the sky. It was streaked with soft clouds, their innocent appearance at odds with what he felt brewing in the air.
A storm was coming.
It wasn’t something anyone could see yet, but Bucky didn’t need a weather report. Since his arm had been crushed in Afghanistan, leaving him with orthopedic implants and lingering aches, he could always tell when the pressure was about to shift.
He flexed his arm again, rolling his shoulder to ease the discomfort. The storm would hit soon, inside and out.
Sliding into the truck, he decided to stop by the general store on the way home. He needed a bottle of scotch. Maybe two.
It was shaping up to be one of those nights.
When she got back to the house, she dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and let out a sigh. She glanced around at the dim, dusty space and resolved to tackle it head-on. After eating a quick sandwich, she got to work.
The first task was the lightbulbs, all of them. Room by room, she placed them, swearing quietly each time she had to stretch on tiptoe or drag a chair around. Next came the cleaning. By the time she was almost finished, it was late afternoon. She stood in the middle of the living room, exhausted and sweaty, a few stubborn cobwebs clinging to her sleeves. She pushed her hair off her forehead and noticed, through the newly cleaned windows, the unmistakable sight of grey clouds gathering on the horizon.
“Great,” she muttered, dragging the vacuum to a corner. She glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting to see a stain forming already. “Please, no leaks. Just this once, let me have some luck.” The wind outside began to pick up, rattling the loose shutter on the porch. She grimaced. The house might not be falling apart, but it wasn’t going to win any awards for weatherproofing either.
She pulled the last bag of cleaning supplies toward her, determined to finish what she could before the storm hit.
The rhythmic patter of rain on the roof accompanied her as she sat at the small kitchen table, nursing a simple dinner. Her arms ached pleasantly from the day’s cleaning spree, her newly functional lightbulbs casting a warm glow over the room. Despite the state of the house when she’d arrived, it felt more like a home now, or at least the beginning of one.
The rain grew heavier, drumming steadily against the windows as she finished eating and washed her dishes. With a satisfied sigh, she headed for the bathroom. The steamy warmth of the shower was a welcome reprieve, washing away the grime and fatigue of the day. She closed her eyes as the water cascaded down, her mind meandering to the list of things she still needed to tackle.
The porch needs fixing first. Maybe some paint for the walls. And that loose shutter... her lips curled into a soft, almost dreamy smile as her thoughts drifted to Bucky. She bit her lip, suppressing a laugh at herself. It had been a while since she’d had anyone to daydream about, and maybe it was just her exhaustion playing tricks on her. Clearly, she needed a break from all these romance novels. The irony wasn’t lost on her, spending her days proofreading swooning declarations and lingering glances wasn’t helping her sanity.
On the other side of town, the rain was more than just a backdrop for Bucky, it was a trigger, a reminder. He sat on the kitchen floor, his back pressed against the counter, cradling a bottle of scotch in one hand and absently flexing the fingers of his left arm with the other. The pain in his left arm wasn’t unbearable -he’d had worse- but the weather had settled into his bones.
One would think Afghanistan’s climate rarely saw rain, but he knew better. In the northern regions, heavy rains could flood entire valleys in minutes, turning the ground into treacherous mud. It wasn’t just the water he remembered, but the chaos it brought. Mud-caked boots slipping on uneven terrain. The deafening crack of gunfire cutting through the downpour. The screams of comrades who’d never make it out of the storm, swallowed by water and bullets alike.
He closed his eyes tightly, forcing the memories away, but the rain’s steady rhythm seemed determined to drag him back. He took a long swig from the bottle, the burn of the alcohol a poor distraction for his haunted mind.
And then, unbidden, he thought of her.
The way she’d smiled at him earlier today at Sam’s workshop. Like she was genuinely glad to see him. He shook his head sharply, scowling at himself. He didn’t deserve to think about her. Didn’t deserve to let himself linger on the way she’d looked at him with curiosity instead of judgment. He was a broken-down man who knew better than to let anyone get close. The rain’s rhythm matched the pounding in his head, and he rubbed his temple with a quiet groan. Thinking about her was a mistake, one he couldn’t afford to make.
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The low hum of a truck pulling up broke the peaceful morning. She peeked out the window, spotting Sam hopping out with a clipboard in hand, a tape measure clipped to his belt. His easy smile greeted her as she opened the door.
“Morning,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Ready to figure out what your little slice of heaven here needs?”
She chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. “Let’s call it a fixer-upper and go from there.”
Sam gave a low whistle as he stepped onto the sagging porch. “First thing’s first, this baby needs a lot of love. I’m surprised it’s holding up at all.” He tapped one of the warped boards with his boot, and it creaked ominously.
“Well, that’s why you’re here,” she replied lightly, crossing her arms.
They walked the perimeter of the house as Sam scribbled notes on his clipboard, occasionally pausing to point out things that needed attention, a loose shutter here, a weathered doorframe there. He climbed the porch steps again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky nothing major’s out of whack, though this porch... Yeah, we’ll start here.”
She nodded, leaning against the railing -carefully-. “Sounds good. So, what’s next?”
Sam grinned, snapping the clipboard shut. “Now comes the fun part, asking nosy questions while I figure out how to turn this place into a proper home. Where’d you move from?”
“City,” she said, her gaze flicking to the overgrown yard. “Needed a change. Too much noise, too many people.”
He nodded like he understood perfectly. “Yeah, city life can wear you down. And what do you do for work? So that I know if I ever need something specific.”
“I’m a proofreader,” she replied. “Not exactly glamorous, but it lets me work from anywhere.”
He chuckled. “Sounds pretty glamorous to me. Living the dream: working in pajamas, no one to bother you.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Not quite. Deadlines don’t care if you’re in pajamas.”
“Fair point,” Sam said, scribbling something on his clipboard. He glanced at her casually. “Anyone special missing you back in the city?”
Her brow furrowed slightly, caught off guard. “Uh, no. Why?”
“No reason,” he said with an exaggerated shrug, flashing his most innocent grin. “We small-town folks are just naturally curious.” Satisfied, he tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Well,” he said, turning on the charm, “I’ll put together a plan for the porch and those other fixes we talked about. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Thanks, Sam,” she said, smiling warmly.
He tipped his imaginary hat again. “Happy to help.” As he walked back to his truck, he patted the clipboard storing every little detail she’d just shared. Oh, he’d have fun with this later.
Over the next few days, she found herself settling deeper into the rhythm of small-town life. Locals stopped to chat whenever she ran errands, and she was finally starting to remember their names. The house was slowly transforming under her care, each repair bringing it closer to what she remembered from her childhood summers.
And then there was Bucky. He was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet. Quiet and guarded one moment, then unexpectedly kind the next. Their paths seemed to cross more often now. It wasn’t intentional, but each encounter left her feeling like she’d peeled back another layer of his carefully constructed wall.
The first time it happened, she was in the general store, arms full of cleaning supplies and pantry staples, along with a guilty indulgence or two. As she stepped into the checkout line, she spotted him just ahead of her with a modest basket of items, his broad shoulders blocking most of her view of the cashier.
As she shuffled forward, her eyes drifted to his basket. Among the practical items -bread, coffee, and what looked like a pack of nails- sat a brightly colored box of dinosaur-shaped mac and cheese.
She couldn’t help herself. “Didn’t peg you for the novelty pasta type.” She quipped lightly, a teasing smile curling her lips.
Bucky turned his head sharply, caught off guard. He glanced at the box, then back at her, a faint pink tinting his cheeks, as he muttered “They’re easy. And cheap.”
The combination of his flustered tone and stoic expression made her grin. “Hey, no judgment. Dinosaurs are awesome. I’d pick those over plain elbows any day.”
His lips twitched, just slightly, but enough to count. “You’ve got good taste,” he said, the faintest trace of a smirk softening his features.
The cashier rang up his items, and he moved through quickly, nodding politely as he passed her. But as she finished paying and struggled to balance her bags, she found him lingering outside near his truck.
“Need a hand?” he asked gruffly, though he was already moving toward her.
She hesitated for a moment before relenting. “If you don’t mind.”
Without a word, he scooped up the heaviest bags as if they weighed nothing. She blinked at the sight, muscles flexing under his worn henley.
“Thanks,” she said, slightly breathless, trying to keep up as he strode to her car.
“Welcome,” he said simply, setting the bags in her trunk with ease. His gaze flicked to her briefly, and he almost looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he just gave a curt nod and walked back to his truck.
It was only a few days later when they ran into each other again, this time at the post office. She had just picked up a package that was almost comically large, far too awkward for one person to handle easily. Balancing it against her hip, she tried to maneuver her way out of the building without dropping it, muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath.
Just as the box tilted precariously, a hand appeared to steady it, large and sure.
“Careful,” came the familiar low drawl.
She blinked, startled, and looked up into a pair of blue eyes she was starting to recognize all too well. “Thanks,” she said, exhaling in relief. “Starting to think you have impeccable timing.”
His lips twitched, that almost-smile she was beginning to appreciate flickering across his face. “Just passing through.” He replied, shifting his grip on the package and effortlessly hoisting it up, carrying it like it weighed nothing at all.
“Oh, you don’t have to-”
“It’s fine,” he stated simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. He glanced at her car and walked toward it.
She trailed behind him as he easily strode with the package. By the time she unlocked the trunk, he deposited the box neatly inside, brushing his hands off quickly.
“Thanks,” she said again, feeling a little useless but sincerely grateful.
“It’s nothin’,” he replied, already stepping back. His eyes lingered on her for a second longer than usual before he turned toward his truck, parked a few spaces down.
She watched him go, following the deliberate, measured way he moved. Just as he reached his door, she called out impulsively, “I owe you one, you know.”
He paused, glancing back at her with a quirk of his brow. “I’ll hold you to it,” he said, the hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. And then he was gone, leaving her with a warm, unexpected feeling she carried all the way home.
The days that followed were quiet but productive. Between finishing work assignments, and tinkering with small projects around the house, she hardly noticed how much time she spent indoors until her eyes began to ache from staring at her laptop screen for hours on end.
One crisp morning, the allure of fresh air proved too strong to resist. She decided to take a walk in the woods, craving a change of scenery. It had been years since the last time she’d wandered those familiar paths, but she still remembered some of the trails from her childhood summers.
As she wandered along the narrow dirt trail, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden shafts painted the forest in a warm, serene glow. She hadn’t expected to encounter anyone out here, but the steady, rhythmic thwack of an axe meeting wood broke through the quiet, catching her attention.
Curiosity stirred, and before she could think better of it, she found herself following the sound, her footsteps light on the soft earth.
There he was, in a small clearing just off the trail, splitting logs with effortless precision. Bucky’s axe swung high before coming down in a clean arc, the sharp crack of splitting wood breaking the stillness. A neat pile of firewood grew beside him, while fresh rounds waited in a haphazard stack.
He hadn’t noticed her yet, too focused on his work, and she found herself lingering longer than she should have, watching the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt and how his hair stuck to his forehead.
When he finally glanced up and spotted her, her stomach flipped. His brows knit together in mild surprise, and he straightened, propping the axe against a nearby stump.
“You lost?” he asked, with a low and even voice, though his tone wasn’t unkind.
She stepped closer, shaking her head. “No, just wandering. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” he said, grabbing a rag from the pile and wiping his hands. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, like he was trying to piece together why she was there. “Trail gets tricky up ahead. Lots of roots and uneven ground.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, glancing around the clearing. “This your spot?”
He nodded once. “Helps to stay busy.”
She looked at the pile of wood, then back at him. “Looks like more than just ‘staying busy.’”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Winters here are rough.”
There was a pause, not quite awkward, but heavy. She shifted her weight, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s impressive. I mean, you make it look easy.”
“It’s not,” he said simply, picking up the axe again. “But you get used to it.”
She lingered, unsure if she should say more or let him get back to work. He tilted his head slightly, watching her with a curious expression.
“You like the woods?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling softly. “It’s peaceful out here. Different from the city.”
His gaze flicked back to the axe in his hand. “It is.” There was a weight to his words, hinting at something deeper than just the stillness of the woods, but she chose not to push.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” she said finally, offering him a polite nod.
“Careful on the trail,” he said again, his voice softer this time.
As she turned to leave, she couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder. He was already back to work, the axe slicing clean through another log. She bit her lip, shaking her head at herself as she continued down the trail.
He sighed. Winters are rough? That was the polite answer, the one people accepted without a second glance. The truth was darker, heavier. Every time the weight of old memories clawed at him -screams, chaos, the suffocating fear that came into walking a dark tunnel that could bury him alive- he found his solace in the rhythmic swing of an axe. Splitting firewood was his refuge, the repetitive motion carving out a rare emptiness in his mind.
He kept chopping, waiting until he was sure she wouldn’t glance back again. Then, he let himself linger, his eyes following her retreating form.
He was interested.
Shit.
Sam hadn’t been helping either, dropping “innocent” tidbits about her, like breadcrumbs, every time they crossed paths. How she worked from home. How she wasn’t seeing anyone. How she seemed to be settling in, though she was still getting used to small-town life. Bucky could tell Sam was trying to nudge him, but it only stirred something conflicted in him.
On one hand, he was drawn to her, from her curves to the way she smiled, also, the way her voice provoked a warmth in him he hadn’t felt in years. On the other hand, the thought of pursuing something -anything- good for himself felt... wrong. Like he didn’t deserve it.
And then there was the matter of simply not knowing how.
He was out of shape when it came to people. Always had been, even before life turned upside down. Now, with scars inside and out, the idea of approaching her felt like staring down at a puzzle he didn’t have the pieces for.
What would he even say? What would she think if she knew the mess he was?
Bucky swung the axe harder, the sharp crack of the log splitting echoing through the clearing. He flexed his fingers and tightened his jaw.
For now, all he could do was chop and hope the noise drowned out the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t enough.
Over the next couple of months, the little town started to feel less like a temporary retreat and more like a place she could call home. The older women gushed over her porch restoration project and eagerly shared gardening tips, while the crowd closer to her age welcomed her into their fold with invitations for coffee dates or potluck dinners.
And then there was Bucky.
Though technically part of that age group, he was absent from most social gatherings. She couldn’t picture him at a potluck, anyway, sitting around sharing recipes or small talk. It just wasn’t him. Yet, in his own quiet way, he’d become more present in her life.
Bit by bit, he seemed to uncoil from whatever tension held him so tightly. He started to linger longer during their chance encounters, sometimes surprising them both with a dry, unexpected joke. Other times, he’d pitch in with simple acts of kindness, like carrying eventually heavy stuff to her car, or even fixing the wobbly step on her porch when Sam got busier and asked him to do it. He could have said no, but he still came, quietly getting the job done without any fanfare.
-----------
Then, the announcement of the annual town festival brought a new wave of excitement. It was the event of the season, where everyone came together to celebrate the town's founding. Without much hesitation, she signed up to contribute, deciding to sell pies and baked goods. Not only was it a way to contribute to the celebration, but it was also a chance to make a little extra income for the ongoing repairs to the house. The porch was done, but there was still plenty of work to do: fresh paint, creaky floorboards, and other little fixes that added up.
So, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. The week leading up to the festival was a whirlwind of flour-dusted counters and the comforting aroma of cinnamon and vanilla. She tested each recipe to make sure they were just like her grandmother used to make.
The excitement of the upcoming festival settled over the town, and she felt like she was becoming part of something bigger, a tradition, a community.
Meanwhile, word had spread that she was setting up a booth to sell her pies. Sam, always the one to keep an ear to the ground, couldn't help but tease Bucky one morning while they were working on a new batch of supplies for the festival booths. They were building the structure for several of the vendors, and Bucky had come by to help with the heavier lifting, always lending a hand when needed.
“She’s doing a booth, huh?” Sam asked with a knowing grin as he hammered in a final nail. “Maybe you should swing by, get yourself a little sugar, hm?”
Bucky’s response was as sharp as ever. “Shut up, Wilson,” he grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he worked, but Sam could see the way his shoulders stiffened, the way he held himself a little straighter.
He stayed silent for a beat, focusing on the sturdy plank of wood he was planing down. The rhythmic scrape of the tool seemed to be the only thing keeping him calm. Sam, however, was never one to let a good opportunity slip by.
“I’m just saying,” Sam pressed on, leaning casually against the workbench, “she’s single, she’s sweet, and she seems to like you.” He smirked, his tone teetering on playful. “You could, y’know, take a shot. Maybe buy a pie while you’re at it. You can’t live on just dino-shaped mac and cheese.”
Bucky huffed a humorless laugh, setting the plane down with a bit more force than intended. “And what would I even say to her, huh? ‘Hi, I’m good at chopping wood and screwing things up.’ That’s a real winner.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You don’t have to lead with the self-deprecating monologue, man. Just... be you. You’re a good guy, Buck, even if you refuse to see it.” He straightened, resting a hand on his hip. “And she’s clearly got some interest. Not every woman looks at a guy like he’s the only steady thing in a storm.”
Bucky shot him a sharp look, the tips of his ears unmistakably pink. “She doesn’t-“
“Oh, she does,” Sam interrupted with a grin that widened at Bucky’s growing discomfort. “And you’d see it too if you didn’t spend so much time convincing yourself you’re not worth her attention.”
For a long moment, Bucky said nothing, his jaw tightening as he flexed his left hand, a tell Sam recognized far too well. Finally, he sighed, leaning his weight on the workbench. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Sam agreed, his tone softening. “But you don’t have to figure it all out today. Start small. Talk to her at the festival. Buy a pie. Hell, buy the whole booth if you have to.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt. “Just don’t let this pass you by.”
----------
The day of the festival arrived, and the town square buzzed with life. Booths lined the streets, each one bursting with local goods: handmade crafts, fresh produce, and jars of preserves. Children darted through the crowds, their faces painted like butterflies or superheroes, their laughter weaving through the cheerful hum of a local band playing in the distance.
Her booth stood out in its simplicity, decorated with gingham tablecloths and jars of freshly picked flowers from her garden. The pies were the centerpiece, their golden crusts glistening in the sunlight, flanked by trays of cookies and jars of homemade jam.
She adjusted the sign that read “Baked Goods – From Granny’s Recipe Box” and stepped back, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
The day unfolded in a whirlwind of chatter and laughter. Her booth was busier than she’d dared to hope, a steady stream of customers stopping to sample the pies or chat about the sign. Compliments came easily from the townsfolk, praising her buttery crusts and spiced fillings. Each kind word felt like a little victory, her heart swelling with the realization that she was becoming a part of the community.
The sun climbed higher into the sky, casting warm golden light over the bustling festival. Her booth remained busy, the stream of smiling faces keeping her occupied and distracted, though not enough to stop her from glancing through the crowd now and then.
By mid-afternoon, Sam strolled up, hands in his pockets and an easy grin on his face. "Well, well. Look at you, baking queen," he teased.
She laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Hardly. But I’ll take it. Want a slice?”
Sam leaned on the edge of the booth, scanning the offerings. “Tempting, but I might be here on more of a reconnaissance mission.”
Her brow lifted. “What kind of mission?”
“You know, checking in, seeing how you're doing, and maybe scouting for a certain broody lumberjack.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes with a chuckle.
“Let me guess, he sent you to grab a pie?” she joked, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Bucky? Nah.” Sam’s grin dimmed slightly, and he gave a small shrug. “Didn’t see him around earlier. Honestly, he might not even show. Festivals aren’t really his thing.”
She tried to keep the disappointment off her face, focusing instead on adjusting a jar of jam on the table. Sam caught the subtle shift in her expression, his teasing smile softening.
“He’s around,” Sam said casually, leaning an elbow on the edge of the booth. “Bucky’s just… not much of a crowd guy. Give him time.”
Her fingers paused on the jar, but she didn’t look up. “I wasn’t-”
“Sure you weren’t,” Sam interrupted with a knowing grin. “But I wouldn’t hold it against him. People aren’t really his thing. Except, maybe, certain people.”
She rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself. “And you’re just full of insight, aren’t you?”
“Hey, I’m just observin’.” He straightened up, grabbing a cookie from the tray. “And I’ll take one of these for the road. Festival’s not complete without snacks.”
She shook her head, amused as Sam strolled off, leaving her alone to greet the next customer.
The hours passed in a blur of chatter and sales, the sun dipping lower in the sky. She’d almost stopped scanning the square for him when, late in the afternoon, a familiar figure emerged.
Bucky walked slowly, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, his gaze flicking over the booths like he wasn’t sure where to go. Then he spotted her. His shoulders straightened, and their eyes met across the square. For a moment, neither moved. Then, with an almost sheepish hesitation, he started toward her.
Each step closer felt like a mistake, and yet he didn’t stop. His eyes took in the sight of her booth, tidy and charming, and then her. She wore a casual dress under a cardigan, and a frilly apron tied neatly around her waist, the image of a vintage housewife. The dress fit snugly at her chest, the fabric pulling slightly when she moved to rearrange something on the table. It wasn’t anything overly revealing, but it didn’t matter; all of the visual information seemed to bypass his brain entirely and head directly to the south. He swallowed hard, trying to redirect his focus before he embarrassed himself.
“Hey,” he said when he reached the booth, his voice a little softer than he intended. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing briefly at the display of pies and jars before forcing himself to meet her eyes.
“Hi,” she replied, her face lighting up in a way that made the whole awkward journey worth it.
“I, uh... thought I’d stop by,” he continued, the words fumbling slightly as he fought the urge to retreat. “Looks like business is good.” He gestured vaguely at the booth, trying to seem casual, though his pulse was anything but.
“It’s been steady,” she said, her smile warm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
Her words made him hesitate, but only briefly. He nodded toward the pies, his lips twitching into what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “Figured I’d see what all the fuss is about.”
“And?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye. “Are you finding the fuss justified?”
He looked at her then, his gaze lingering in a way that made her shift her weight slightly. His lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “Seen a few tempting products,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.
Was that... a double meaning? She wasn’t sure, but the way her stomach flipped at his tone left her biting her lip to suppress a smile.
“Well,” she said, leaning slightly against the booth, “what might you be interested in, then?”
“Got any plum jam?” he asked after a moment, his eyes scanning the jars displayed on the table.
She winced apologetically. “Sorry, sold out this morning. It’s a popular one.”
He gave a small nod, not seeming too put out. “Guess I’ll settle for a slice of apple pie, then.”
“You won’t regret it,” she said, quickly cutting a generous slice and placing it in a little paper dish. As she handed it to him, their fingers brushed briefly, a small, electric jolt of contact that she tried not to overthink.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze flickering back to hers for a split second before focusing intently on the pie. He took a bite, and the deep, guttural groan that escaped him had her blinking in surprise, and then staring at him, very much not with pure thoughts.
Her gaze dropped helplessly to his mouth, where a small dollop of apple mush clung stubbornly to the corner of his lips. Oh, how she’d love to help him clean that up, maybe even by lapping it up herself. The thought had her throat going dry. “Uh, you have... there,” she managed, signaling to her own mouth because words failed her entirely.
He frowned slightly, his thumb swiping at his lips. When he missed, she gave a quick, stifled laugh, shaking her head and pointing more precisely. His next attempt was successful, and when he scooped the apple filling with his thumb and licked it clean off, her breath caught.
That should be illegal.
“Damn,” he said, glancing down at the pie with newfound respect. “Guess you can marry now.”
She blinked, startled. “What?”
His ears reddened as he fumbled for an explanation, suddenly realizing how strange that sounded. “Uh... my ma used to say... I mean, like, if a woman could cook well, she’d be ready for marriage, or something… uh, forget it.” He waved a hand, suddenly looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“Oh no,” she said, crossing her arms and quirking a brow, her lips twitching in amusement. “Now I really want to know what your ma used to say.”
“My ma used to say,” he admitted reluctantly, “a woman who can bake a pie like this could keep a man happy for life.”
As the words left his mouth, he realized -really realized- what he’d just said. Bringing up marriage, even indirectly, in what was supposed to be casual conversation? A new low, even for him. His inward grimace was immediate, a mortifying mix of regret and disbelief at his own lack of subtlety.
She blinked at him, her head tilting slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Well,” she said slowly, the edge of her lip quirking up, “Bet she was the kind of person who made everyone feel at home.”
He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she... she was something.” Hoping to steer the moment away from the awkward territory he’d stumbled into, he gestured vaguely to the booth. “Anyway, uh... pie’s great. Really.”
“Thanks, Bucky. I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my granny’s best recipes.” She smiled warmly
He nodded, his lips twitching into something close to a smile. “She taught you well.”
That earned a soft laugh from her. “Yeah, she’d make me practice until I got it just right. Burned a lot of pies before this one.”
The conversation lingered as they eased into a rhythm, the earlier tension giving way to something more relaxed. She asked about his work, curious about how he supplied Sam with lumber, and he surprised her by sharing a bit more than usual talking about the care it took to choose the right trees and how the process wasn’t just chopping wood but understanding the forest itself.
“You make it sound like an art,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully.
“Guess it kinda is,” he admitted. “You’ve gotta respect it. If you don’t, it shows in the work.”
Before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted, cutting through their moment like a buzz saw.
“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up!”
Sam’s broad grin was radiant as he strolled up to the booth, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
Bucky groaned softly, his shoulders slumping a fraction as if bracing himself for whatever teasing was about to come. “What do you want, Sam?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Sam said breezily, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Just thought I’d check in, maybe grab some pie, see what’s happening over here.” He smirked. “Looks like I picked the right booth.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Careful, Sam. You’re gonna run me out of inventory if you keep showing up.”
Sam leaned on the counter, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’m here only to make sure Bucky doesn’t scare off your customers with his broody face.”
Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam only shrugged, completely unfazed.
“Actually, Buck, some of the people are starting to pack up. We should get a head start on breaking down everything so tomorrow’s not such a hassle,” Sam continued, his tone shifting to business mode. “Don’t give me that look, I'm not the one who strolled in here right before closing time.”
Bucky sighed but didn’t argue. “Right, right,” he muttered but didn’t seem eager to leave just yet.
She chuckled softly at their dynamic, watching as Sam started to organize a few things, seemingly trying to speed up the process of wrapping up. “Well then, I’ll just get the last of these pies packed up.” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make it a little easier on yourself if you let us take a couple of those home,” Sam said with a grin, his eyes scanning the remaining trays. “For later, of course. Can’t let all this deliciousness go to waste.”
Bucky didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on the last few slices, making it clear he wasn’t about to pass up on some baked goods.
“Yeah, well, I suppose you’re right,” she said, laughing. “Guess you both deserve some for your hard work on the structures.”
“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Sam said, grinning as he reached for the remaining slices of pie. “Besides,” he said, gesturing toward Bucky, “look at him. He must be starving. You don’t know the amount of food it takes to keep all that going.”
Bucky froze mid-chew, his fork hovering just above the plate, and gave Sam a pointed look, equal parts exasperation and disbelief. “Seriously?”
“What?” Sam shrugged innocently, though his smirk said otherwise. “It’s true. You’re always munching on something. Remember last week? Three sandwiches in one sitting, and you still stole my fries.”
Bucky’s glare sharpened, but it only fueled Sam’s amusement. “You ate half my wings, Wilson,” Bucky said dryly, his tone low and unimpressed.
“Details,” Sam said with a wave of his hand, his grin not fading. “Point is, you’ve got the appetite of a bear coming out of hibernation. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t go hungry.”
She laughed as she placed the box of pies on the counter. “Well, I can’t have that on my conscience,” she teased. “Take as many slices as you need, Bucky. We’ll call it a public service.”
Bucky shifted on his feet, his gaze darting between her and the pies. The faintest flush crept up his neck as he mumbled, “Thanks,” and slid another slice of pie onto his plate. His eyes lingered on the cookies for a moment before he reached for one, his movements a little hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how much was too much.
“You sure?” he asked, glancing up at her, his voice quieter now.
She smiled warmly, waving off his concern. “Positive. Consider it payment for all the heavy lifting.”
He huffed a low laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up in what could almost be called a smile. “Appreciate it,” he said, his words rough but sincere.
Sam clapped him on the shoulder, almost making Bucky drop the cookie. “Alright, big guy, let’s get out of her way before you clean her out completely.
Bucky shot him a half-hearted glare but allowed Sam to steer him toward a cluster of tables nearby, his plate balanced carefully in one hand.
She watched them go, her lips curving into a smile as Sam said something that made Bucky shake his head in exasperation.
With a deep breath, she turned back to finish packing up, though her gaze flicked toward their working spot every now and then.
That night, she lay in bed, the exhaustion of the festival weighing her body down but leaving her mind buzzing. Every detail of the day replayed like a film reel, but one moment stood out above all: Bucky and his awkward, utterly endearing comment about marriage.
She groaned, burying her flushed face into her pillow like a teenager. Guess you can marry now. The memory of his hesitant, almost panicked attempt to explain himself made her toes curl, not in secondhand embarrassment but in something far warmer, more thrilling. And the way he’d looked at her as he said it... that fleeting vulnerability, his ears burning red. She shook her head, biting her lip against a smile.
An idea came to her mind while sipping her morning coffee, staring at the half-empty box of baked goods and preserves she hadn’t packed into the car the day before. She’d thought she was carrying too much, but now she saw what she’d left behind: two jars of plum jam. The very ones Bucky had wanted at the festival but hadn’t been able to get.
She turned one jar in her hand, smiling faintly. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to do, a small gesture to thank him for all the ways he’d helped her. A friendly token, nothing more. The thought made her nerves tingle anyway.
Shoving those thoughts aside, she packed the jars into her backpack, laced up her boots, and headed out. She made her way toward the spot where she’d found him last time, the rhythmic thwack of his axe cutting through wood still vivid in her memory. She tried not to feel disappointed when the clearing came into view and she didn’t see him right away, but then a faint rustling sound caught her attention.
Bucky was there, further back, crouched near a stack of neatly cut logs, inspecting a wedge that had splintered unevenly. He looked so at ease in his element, that she almost turned back. But then he shifted, his head tilting slightly as if he’d heard her approach.
“Hey,” she called, her voice lighter than intended.
He stood, turning to face her. His brow furrowed slightly in surprise, but it softened quickly. “Hey.”
“I, uh...” She adjusted her backpack strap, suddenly feeling awkward for tracking him down like this. “I had some leftovers from the festival, and I remembered you wanted plum jam. Turns out I had two jars I didn’t even bring.” She opened the backpack and pulled them out, offering them with a tentative smile. “Figured I’d bring them to you as a thank-you for all the times you’ve helped me out.”
Bucky stared at the jars, his expression unreadable at first, but then his lips tugged into the faintest hint of a smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging lightly. “But I wanted to. It’s just jam, anyway.”
“Just jam,” he repeated, taking the jars from her hands, his fingers brushing hers briefly. He glanced at the labels, then back at her. “Thanks. Really.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, feeling breathless under his intense gaze. She stuffed her hands into her knitted jacket pockets, trying to play it cool. “Hope it’s as good as my pies.”
His lips twitched, that almost-smile appearing again. “Guess I’ll have to let you know.” For a moment, neither of them moved, then he cleared his throat, gesturing toward the logs behind him. “You walked all the way out here just for this?” he asked, slightly lifting his brow.
“Pretty much, yeah,” she admitted, her voice softening as a hint of shyness crept in. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly very aware of how much effort she’d put into this small gesture.
Bucky’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, “That’s... thoughtful of you.”
Her cheeks warmed under his quiet scrutiny, but she forced a casual shrug. “Well, I figured it beats letting them collect dust in my pantry.”
“Still,” he murmured, “thanks. Means a lot.”
“You’re welcome. I, uh...” She glanced at the jars in his hands, suddenly unsure of herself. “I won’t take more of your time. Just wanted to...” She gestured vaguely toward the jam, the movement almost bashful.
Bucky’s gaze softened, his grip tightening slightly around the jars. Before she could step away, he called after her, his voice rough yet almost hesitant. “Hey.”
She turned back, catching the flicker of something earnest in his expression.
“Thanks again,” he said simply, holding up the jars slightly.
Her smile softened, more genuine now. “Anytime.”
Bucky stood there for a long moment after she left, staring at the jars in his hands. The deep, rich purple of the jam glinted faintly in the sunlight filtering through the trees, but his mind wasn’t on the contents. It was on her. The way her voice had faltered, the slight hesitance in her movements when she handed them to him, like she wasn’t sure if he’d even want them.
Why the hell wouldn’t I? he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. He shifted the jars to one hand, his free one dragging down his face. Damn it.
The easy confidence he used to have, -the kind that once let him charm anyone he wanted- was long gone, worn away by years of service that had left their mark on his body and mind. His scars, both visible and hidden, weren’t just marks; they were reminders of a life split into before and after. He set the jars carefully on a stump, picking up his axe again and turning back to the log he’d been working on.
The first swing came down harder than necessary, the wood splitting with a satisfying crack.
What if Sam was right? What if she really did like him? What the hell would he even do with that? He couldn’t imagine someone like her -a woman who baked pies for town festivals and brought plum jam out to the woods- being happy with someone like him. Someone who carried more baggage than he knew how to unpack.
The axe came down again, the sharp sound echoing through the clearing.
She deserved better than someone like him. Someone whole. Someone who didn’t wake up in cold sweats or flinch at loud noises. Someone who could stand in a crowd without feeling like the walls were closing in. He couldn’t even have a simple conversation without fumbling over his words like a damn teenager.
Another swing and the log finally gave way, splitting clean in two. He adjusted the pieces and started again, the rhythmic motion grounding him even as his thoughts spiraled.
And yet... there she was, walking through the woods just to give him something she thought he’d like. Her smile was genuine, her laugh soft, and for a moment, it had felt almost normal, like maybe he wasn’t the broken mess he’d convinced himself he was.
Don’t kid yourself.
The axe paused mid-air as his gaze flickered to the jars again. She wasn’t just being polite, was she? There had been something in her eyes, something he didn’t know how to name but felt keenly.
God, I used to be good at this, he thought, lowering the axe and resting his hands on the handle. Before everything went to hell, before the nightmares and the scars and the sense of being completely out of place in a world that had moved on without him, he’d known how to read people. Known how to charm them.
Now, he couldn’t even tell if the kindest gesture he’d received in years was just... friendliness.
Bucky exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the axe. He had no answers, only doubts, and a feeling in his gut that maybe, just maybe, he was about to screw this up like he did everything else.
----------
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the living room curtains as she sat cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. She rubbed her temples and glared at the screen, rereading the same sentence for what felt like the hundredth time. The latest manuscript she was proofreading was a Highlander romance, complete with a Marie Sue, a couple of brawny warriors, and more plaid than a fabric store. It wasn’t that she disliked the genre, but this one was so cliché-ridden it was almost impressive.
“And then his emerald eyes bore into hers, as if he could see the depths of her soul,” she read aloud, her tone dry. She let out a groan, rolling her eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Of course he did.”
Still, it paid the bills. She took a sip of her now lukewarm tea and leaned back, debating whether to power through or take a break. That’s when a knock sounded at the door.
Her brows furrowed. Dorothy, the old lady he met at the general store, had mentioned bringing over some plant bulbs today, and it was her signature to show up unannounced. Closing the laptop with a sigh of relief at the distraction, she stood and padded to the door.
“Dorothy, you didn’t have to-” she began, opening the door with a welcoming smile, only to have the words die in her throat.
It wasn’t Dorothy.
Bucky stood there, one hand gripping a well-worn toolbox and the other shoved casually into the pocket of his jeans. The red henley he wore was snug enough to highlight the curve of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest, but not enough to look like he was trying. His hair was slightly mussed, as if the wind had tussled it just before he knocked, and the faintest hint of stubble shadowed his jaw.
For a second, neither of them spoke. She blinked, her surprise evident, while he cleared his throat and offered a small, almost sheepish nod.
“Hey,” he said, his deep voice tinged with a hint of hesitation. “I, uh... remembered you mentioned during the festival needing to fix a couple of roof tiles.” He lifted the toolbox slightly as if to emphasize his purpose. “Thought I’d stop by and take care of it. For the jam.”
It was a perfectly logical explanation, but the sight of him on her porch, looking like an ad for rustic competence, left her momentarily speechless.
She groaned inwardly, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her neck as she registered her current state, an old pair of sweatpants and an even older shirt with a faded logo, complete with a jam stain right across the bosom. Great. Just great.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she finally managed, her voice brushing off the initial surprise as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”
Bucky shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, easy smile. “Figured I owed you one. Besides, it’s no trouble.”
Despite herself, her lips quirked in a smile as she stepped aside and gestured toward the side of the house. “Well, okay then. The tiles that need fixing are just over there.”
He nodded, his movements purposeful but unhurried, as he turned toward his truck. “I’ll grab my ladder and get started.”
As he walked away, she shut the door with a quiet click and let out a soft exhale, leaning her forehead briefly against the cool wood. A glance down at her outfit made her wince. Nope. There was no way she was standing out there in this while Bucky Barnes fixed her roof looking like a walking ad for rugged, small-town charm.
She bolted for her room, tearing through her wardrobe with newfound urgency. A simple casual dress with a V neckline and cardigan was the winning combo, comfortable enough for an impromptu chat but still presentable. She smoothed the fabric over her hips and checked her reflection in the mirror, brushing her hair back into place before heading back to the living room.
The faint clink of metal outside signaled that Bucky was already at work. Feeling slightly more put-together, she made her way to the kitchen to make some lemonade, hoping she didn’t look like she was trying too hard.
Once the lemonade was ready, she poured a glass, her movements steady as she tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. It wasn’t a big deal. Just a neighborly gesture to bring him something cool while he worked. Absolutely no ulterior motives, she told herself firmly, ignoring the tiny thrill that ran through her at the thought of talking to him again.
After tidying up a few things to stall for time, she finally stepped outside, the lemonade glass balanced carefully in her hand. The sun had warmed the air, and she spotted Bucky perched on the ladder, one boot firmly planted on a lower rung as he worked to secure a tile.
“Hey,” she called out lightly, making her way toward him.
He glanced down, his hands pausing mid-adjustment. His gaze caught on her new outfit, lingering for a moment before flicking back to her face. She wasn’t imagining it, the slight shift in his expression was hard to miss.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious under his sharp blue eyes, she offered the glass with a small smile. “Thought you might want something to drink.” Then, in a rush of nervous energy, she added, “Dorothy was supposed to drop by, so I figured I should look a little more... put together.”
His gaze flickered briefly to the neckline of her dress, the height of his vantage point affording a view to skin that other way should be concealed by cloth. For a split second, his focus lingered on the swell of her breasts before he forced his attention back to her face with an unreadable expression.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly, reaching down to take the glass. His fingers brushed hers for a fraction of a second, the callouses rough against her skin, and she fought the urge to shiver at the contact.
“You’re, uh, making good progress,” she said, nodding toward the roof as if that would distract from the warmth in her cheeks.
“Not much to it,” he replied, taking a sip. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank, and her eyes dipped of their own accord, watching the movement.
When he handed the glass back, their fingers brushed again, and she swore his hand lingered just a moment longer this time.
She lingered by the ladder, holding her glass of lemonade, the condensation cool against her fingers. “You and Sam did a great job building the booths for the festival,” she said, her tone casual. “Not only a provider, huh? Seems like you’re quite the handyman too.”
Bucky glanced down at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile before he focused back on the tile he was securing. “It wasn’t just us. Plenty of other guys helped out.”
“Still,” she insisted, watching the muscles in his forearms shift as he worked, “it’s cool. You don’t see that kind of dedication every day.”
He didn’t respond right away, his grip tightening on the hammer. The compliment clearly unsettled him, and for a split second, his aim wavered. The hammer came down too close to his thumb, and he muttered a sharp curse under his breath.
“Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer instinctively. Her brows knit together with concern as she watched him shake out his hand.
“Peachy,” he muttered with a gruff voice, though the faint pink creeping up his neck gave away his frustration, whether from the near miss or her watchful presence, she wasn’t sure.
Her lips twitched at his tone, but she held back a laugh, not wanting to poke the bear. “Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it before I distract you into taking off a finger.”
He glanced down at her, his blue eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re not a distraction,” he said after a beat, his voice softer this time.
Her stomach did a little flip, but she forced herself to keep her tone light. “Still, I’d hate to be the reason you get hurt. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned back to his work, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
She stepped back toward the house, clutching the empty glass tightly as she crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her.
With a deep breath, she returned to the couch, her laptop waiting for her where she’d left it. But even as she opened the screen and stared down the next line of plaid-covered Highlander melodrama, her thoughts drifted back to the man on her roof and the way his gaze lingered just a second too long.
---------
The knock at the door startled her out of the repetitive loop of her manuscript edits. Leaving the laptop on the coffee table, she stood, smoothing the fabric of her dress instinctively. When she opened the door, there he was, a faint sheen of sweat on his face and his toolbox in hand.
“All done,” Bucky said, his deep voice a little quiet, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to say more. He gestured vaguely toward the roof with his free hand. “The tiles should hold up fine now. No leaks to worry about.”
Her smile was warm as relief and gratitude washed over her. “Thank you, Bucky. Really. That was so kind of you to come by and take care of it.”
He gave a small shrug, his lips twitching into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t take long. Figured it’d save you some hassle.”
“Still,” she said, stepping back to open the door wider, “you didn’t have to. Can I at least get you something? Another drink, maybe?”
He hesitated, his hand tightening slightly on the handle of the toolbox. “You don’t have to-”
“I insist,” she cut him off gently, her smile unwavering. “Please. It’s the least I can do.”
After a beat, he nodded, stepping over the threshold with a cautious ease, as if unsure of how much space he was allowed to take up. She led him to the kitchen, motioning for him to sit at the small table while she poured a fresh glass of lemonade.
He sat stiffly, setting his toolbox carefully by his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. The kitchen smelled faintly of citrus and sugar, a scent that mingled oddly with the outdoorsy hint of sawdust and sweat he carried with him.
“Here,” she said, placing the glass in front of him before sitting across the table. “I hope it’s still cold enough.”
Bucky nodded his thanks, taking a sip. The silence stretched for a moment, not uncomfortable but loaded with unspoken thoughts. She was the first to break it.
“So, how long have you been working with Sam?” she asked, leaning her arms casually on the table.
He set the glass down, his fingers lingering on the rim as he answered. “A few years. Helps keep me busy.”
She tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity. “Do you supply the rest of the workshops and stores too?”
Bucky let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Not really, just a few. Don’t think anyone’s lining up to hire a guy like me.”
Her brows knit together. “I don’t know about that. You’re dependable, skilled... and clearly a good neighbor.”
Her words caught him off guard, and he looked down, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Just doing what needs to be done,” he mumbled.
“More than that,” she pressed, a hint of teasing in her tone now to lighten the moment. “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t believe how fast you fixed those tiles.”
Bucky shook his head, his lips twitching into that barely-there smile again. “It’s just a roof.”
“To you, maybe,” she said lightly. “To me, it’s one less thing to worry about. And I really appreciate it.”
Her sincerity left him quiet for a moment, his fingers tightening briefly around the glass. He glanced up at her, meeting her eyes. “You’re welcome,” he said finally, with a low voice.
Another pause lingered between them, she smiled, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Well, if you ever need more jam -or a roof to fix- you know where to find me.”
He chuckled softly, the sound surprising even himself. “Guess I’ll keep that in mind.”
Their gazes held for just a beat too long before he stood, his hand already reaching for the toolbox. “I should get going.”
“Of course,” she said, standing as well, though she didn’t move to rush him out. “Thanks again, Bucky.”
As Bucky made his way toward the door, his gaze swept briefly over the living room, pausing on the open laptop resting on the coffee table. His steps slowed, curiosity flickering across his features. “What’s that you’re working on?” he asked, tilting his head toward the screen.
She followed his gaze and let out a soft, sheepish laugh. “Oh, just... proofreading a manuscript.”
He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “What kind of manuscript?”
Her lips parted as if she might dodge the question, but his steady, inquisitive look made it clear he wasn’t letting this one go. “It’s, uh... a romance,” she admitted, her voice almost shy.
His brow lifted a little higher. “About?”
She hesitated, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. “It’s... okay, it’s one of those super cheesy historical romances. You know, with a rugged Highlander and a maid who’s swept up in some dramatic, forbidden love affair.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her cheeks warming as she spoke.
Bucky’s expression shifted. First skeptical, then mildly amused, and finally landing somewhere between disbelief and intrigue. “And that sells?”
“It’s a very popular topic,” She nodded, already cringing inwardly. “It’s... well, it’s got a lot of dramatic tension, flowery descriptions, and... other stuff.”
“Like what?” he asked, genuinely curious, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the doorframe.
She bit the inside of her cheek, debating how much detail to share. “You know... dramatic misunderstandings, passionate declarations, epic sword fights... and, uh...” She trailed off, waving her hand vaguely. “Other... things.”
“Other things,” he repeated, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “You mean... the spicy stuff?”
Her cheeks flamed, and she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Yes, okay? That stuff. Happy now?”
He chuckled making her peek at him from behind her fingers. “Didn’t take you for someone who’d spend their day reading about shirtless Highlanders sweeping maids off their feet.”
“I don’t spend my day reading it,” she shot back, lowering her hands to glare at him, though her expression was more embarrassed than angry. “I’m proofreading. There’s a difference.”
“Right,” he said, dragging the word out like he wasn’t entirely convinced. “So you’re not secretly daydreaming about a plaid-wearing, hero coming to whisk you away?”
“Absolutely not,” she replied firmly, though the faint crack in her voice betrayed her mortification.
He smirked, finally stepping back from the doorframe. “Good to know.”
She crossed her arms, watching him as he moved toward his toolbox. “Not that you’re one to judge,” she called after him. “You seem to know an awful lot about what goes on in those books for someone who’s never read one.”
That stopped him in his tracks. He turned back, his gaze narrowing slightly, though there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I have a sister,” he said simply, as though that explained everything.
Her mouth opened, then shut, caught off guard. “Touché,” she murmured, conceding the point. Still, she couldn’t let it rest. “But honestly, this one is so bad, I don’t get how the editors went along with it.”
His curiosity piqued, and Bucky tilted his head. “And why’s that?”
“It’s just... so cheesy,” she said, her voice dipping with exaggerated drama. “Way too fluffy, the guy won’t stop talking about his feelings, and he’s clingy in a way that makes me cringe.” She shuddered a little for effect.
Bucky raised a brow, his thumb absently tapping against the handle of the toolbox. “So... that makes it bad for the genre? Or is that your personal taste talking?”
She blinked, thrown off by the question. “I-what?”
“I mean,” he continued, leaning casually against the doorframe, “aren’t romance novels supposed to be... you know, emotional? Feelings and all that? Or is it just not your thing?”
She frowned, his thoughtful tone making her pause. “I guess... it’s not the emotions that bother me,” she admitted, her arms crossing loosely. “It’s the way it’s written. This guy is just so... over the top. He’s constantly swooning over her, saying how she’s his whole world, his sun and stars... it’s too much. Like, tone it down, man.”
Bucky’s lips twitched, and he gave a small, thoughtful nod as if chewing over her words. “So, you’re more into the... brooding types?”
Her face warmed slightly at the observation, but she shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. I like characters who... don’t lay it all out at once. You know, someone with a little mystery.”
A long silence stretched between them, his gaze lingering on her as if trying to read between the lines. “Sounds like it’d be tough to figure out what they’re thinking.” He observed.
She raised a brow at that, tilting her head. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words, you know.”
Bucky seemed to consider that, his fingers flexing lightly around the handle of his toolbox. He nodded once, then glanced toward the door. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your... highlander drama.” He shifted his weight, toolbox in hand, and turned toward the door. But as he stepped through, he hesitated, glancing back. “Hey,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost hesitant. “If, uh... if you ever need something else, just let me know.”
She smiled “I will. The same goes for you, thanks again.”
He nodded, a small, almost shy tilt of his head, before stepping fully out the door. She stood there for a moment, staring after him as the faint crunch of his boots faded down the path. The quiet of her house enveloped her as she closed the door, replaying snippets of their conversation.
She had barely made it back to the couch when her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a text from Sam:
Hey, I’m grilling tonight. You should come by. No excuses.
A smile tugged at her lips. The idea of stepping out, getting off her screen, and being around people sounded better than staying cooped up with plaids and cringy lairds. She quickly texted back her agreement.
The gathering was small, just a handful of locals chatting around the glow of the garden lights and the firepit, the scent of burning wood mingling with spiced cider in the air.
She wasn’t expecting to see Bucky there, given he wasn’t the social type but there he was, standing slightly apart from the crowd, his hands shoved into his pockets as he listened to a conversation between Sam and another neighbor.
She hesitated, her pulse quickening at the sight of him. Sam spotted her, waving her over. “Hey, glad you made it! C’mon, grab a drink.”
She made her way to the table laden with snacks and drinks, feeling Bucky’s gaze on her as she poured herself some cider. When she turned, he was standing just a few steps away, his expression unreadable in the flickering firelight.
“Hey,” she said, her voice a touch breathless. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
His lips quirked in a half-smile. “Sam can be... persuasive.”
She laughed softly “Yeah, he’s good at that.”
They stood there in companionable silence for a moment, and then, as someone started strumming a guitar on the other side of the yard, Bucky glanced at her, his blue eyes glinting with something she couldn’t quite place.
“Walk with me?” he asked, with a low but steady voice.
Surprised, she nodded, and they left the noise and light of the gathering behind, stepping into the quiet shadows of the trees that bordered Sam’s property.
As they walked, the only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant chords of the guitar. Finally, he spoke.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began with a cautious tone like he was testing the waters. “About what you said earlier. About liking... brooding characters.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Oh?”
His gaze stayed forward, but his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Got me wondering if you really meant that. Or if you were just... making conversation.” The vulnerability in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her.
“I wasn’t just making conversation,” she admitted softly.
He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. The firelight was distant now, casting only the faintest glow, but she could still see the intensity in his expression. “Good,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Because I don’t want to keep wondering.”
Before she could respond, he stepped closer, his hand brushing hers, tentative but deliberate. And when she didn’t pull away, he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as his lips captured hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and deeply certain, as if he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he dared to admit.
She melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. That small gesture gave him all the permission he needed. Tilting his head, he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, a gentle yet deliberate request. She parted her lips for him, granting entrance, and he deepened the kiss with a low, quiet sigh that sent warmth spiraling through her.
His hand slid to the curve of her lower back, pulling her closer, while the other found its way to her nape. His fingers tangled gently in her hair as he cradled her. Their kiss broke slowly, reluctantly, his lips brushing hers one last time as if he couldn’t quite let go. Bucky lingered close, his breath warm against her cheek, his nose skimming along her jaw before dipping to her neck. He pressed his face there, inhaling deeply, and his quiet, teasing voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“This too clingy for you?”
A soft laugh escaped her, though it dissolved into a breathy sigh as she tilted her head, exposing more of her neck to him. “Shut up,” she murmured, her fingers threading through his hair, keeping him close. Whatever witty retort she might have had melted into nothing as he pressed a lingering kiss to her pulse point.
Bucky’s lips lingered against her neck for a moment longer before he pulled back just enough to look at her. His fingers at her nape flexed, and then his gaze dropped briefly to her lips. Her heart stuttered as he closed the distance again, this time more demanding. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was deeper and hungrier. Gone was the tentative sweetness, this was need, raw and unrestrained. His hand slid from her lower back to her hip, splaying wide, pulling her flush against him as if he needed to eliminate even the smallest gap between them.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, throaty sound from him that sent a thrill through her. She arched into him instinctively, and his hand slid down to the hem of her dress, his fingers brushing her bare thigh. His touch was deliberate, teasing, but his restraint was evident. Her hands left his hair, sliding down to his chest, the soft flannel brushing her palms before she gripped the fabric and tugged him closer. He responded instantly, groaning softly into her mouth as the hand on her nape angled her tighter against his lips.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the charged silence, he pressed his forehead to hers. Neither of them moved to step away, the distant chatter and laughter around the grill fading into the background. The weight of unspoken need between them was palpable.
“We should...” she started, her voice catching slightly. Then, more firmly, “We should go somewhere.”
His head lifted slightly, blue eyes dark as he searched hers for a beat before a slow smile tugged at his lips, agreeing with a low voice.
Without another word, he took her hand, intertwining their fingers briefly before leading her away. They drifted toward the edge of the yard with casual ease, their steps slow enough to avoid suspicion but quick enough to betray their shared urgency. Once they’d slipped into the cover of the trees bordering Sam’s property, she turned to him, their bodies close in the dim light of the evening. “Your truck or...?”
Bucky’s brows shot up at the suggestion, and for a moment, the idea tempted him, briefly, wildly. Considering the insistent ache in his jeans, the thought held undeniable appeal. But then, reason settled over him like a cool breeze. Not like this. Not tonight.
His lips quirked into a lopsided smirk, and he leaned in just enough that his voice sent a shiver through her. “Your place,” he murmured, low and deliberate.
The shift in his tone left her breathless, her pulse hammering against her skin as her cheeks warmed. She nodded wordlessly, her hand tightening slightly around his as they moved with quiet purpose. The path back to her house felt electric, each step charged with anticipation.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky turned sharply, cornering her against the solid wood. His hands framed her face as his lips captured hers again, more demanding this time, his body pressing into hers with a heat that left no room for misinterpretation. She gasped softly into the kiss, the feel of his hardon against her stomach sending a jolt of desire through her.
Her fingers tangled in his long hair, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat. The sound vibrated between them, primal and electrifying. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur, his voice gravelly, “Where’s the bedroom?”
She pointed vaguely down the hall, her breath hitching. Before she could blink, his strong hands were gripping her waist, and he effortlessly threw her over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
A surprised squeal left her lips, and she braced herself against his back, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. His hand splayed firmly over her rear to steady her, his voice teasing but thick with intent. “Easy there,” he said, the words curling with a hint of amusement.
He strode purposely through the hallway, and when they reached the bedroom, he set her down on the bed with surprising care, though his gaze was anything but gentle. He stood over her for a moment, taking her in, the way her hair fell wild around her face, her lips swollen from his kisses, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.
His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his eyes darkened. “Damn,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with hunger, “you’re a sight.”
She shifted slightly under his intense stare, a flicker of shyness creeping in her despite her arousal. The way he looked at her, so unapologetically hungry, made her feel exposed. His lips quirked slightly as if sensing her hesitation, and he leaned down, his hand coming to rest against her jaw.
“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intent.
She nodded, her breath hitching as his thumb brushed along her cheek. “Yeah,” she whispered.
“Good,” he replied, his lips curving into a faint smile before he kissed her again. This time, it was slower, deeper, his tongue sweeping against hers in a way that left her clinging to him, her earlier shyness melting into the heat of his touch.
Her fingers found his shirt, tugging at the hem, and he pulled back just enough to strip it off, tossing it aside without ceremony. The scars on his chest and arm caught the dim light, but the confidence in his gaze never wavered as he leaned back in, his hands sliding down her sides with deliberate, teasing slowness.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as her eyes roamed over him, the sheer breadth of his chest and the powerful arms flexing with restrained strength. He was a bear of a man, solid and unrelenting, and she loved every bit of it.
“You know,” he began, his voice low and rough, his fingers deftly popping open the buttons of her dress one by one. “I love seeing you in these dresses and skirts.” His lips quirked into a wicked grin, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “Makes it so damn easy to get under them. Have my way with you.”
Her cheeks burned at his words, a mixture of arousal and shyness bubbling to the surface. “Bucky...” she breathed, but her protest was feeble at best, especially as he continued his slow, deliberate assault, parting the fabric of her dress to expose more of her skin.
“That one you wore at the festival,” he went on, his tone darkening with heat as he leaned closer, his lips grazing her collarbone. “That vintage-looking thing? Sweetheart, it drove me crazy.”
She gasped softly as his hands slid over her hips, his thumbs tracing patterns against her bare skin. “Crazy how?” she managed to ask, her voice trembling under the weight of his attention.
He let out a low, throaty chuckle, his lips trailing down to the swell of her breasts. “Crazy enough to want to bend you over the booth table,” he murmured, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin, “and fuck you right there. Pies, jam… didn’t care. Would’ve made a mess of it all just to get my hands on you.”
A desperate whimper slipped past her lips as heat pooled low in her belly. Her hands slid into his hair, tugging slightly.
He growled softly at the sensation, pressing her back against the bed. His hands gripped the fabric of her dress and tugged it down her arms, exposing her fully to his gaze. “But we’ve got all the time we want now,” he said, his voice rough, his lips curving into a predatory smile. “And I plan to take my damn time.”
Her pussy clenched with anticipation as her mind whirled, trying to reconcile the quiet, awkward man she’d come to know with this unabashedly vocal, commanding version of him. It was as though he’d been holding back all this time, and now, the dam had finally burst.
Her bra followed the dress, and his sharp intake of breath sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her. His thumb traced the curve of her breast, slow and deliberate, before he leaned in, his lips hovering just above her skin.
“Y’know,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “all I could think about this afternoon was pouring that lemonade on these.” His lips ghosted over her nipple, his breath warm. “Then drinking it straight off you.”
Her gaze widened, a sudden wave of shyness overtaking her. She let out a nervous laugh, pressing her hands over her face to shield herself.
“Don’t hide from me,” he said firmly, his hand catching her wrists and gently tugging them away. His eyes burned with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “You were the one who instigated our little escape from Sam’s party, remember?”
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help the way her body arched toward him as his lips finally claimed the peak of her breast, his tongue swirling in deliberate, maddening strokes. Any remaining hesitation evaporated as he pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.
“You don’t get to act shy now,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly against her skin. “Not after everything you’ve been driving me crazy with.”
Her voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling as she stammered, “I... I didn’t do anything...”
Bucky pulled back just enough to meet her wide-eyed gaze, his lips curving into a wicked smirk. “Oh, you didn’t?” he drawled, his tone laced with teasing disbelief. His hand slid down her side, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “That little dress at the festival? the lemonade with that neckline? The way you bit your lower lip every time we spoke? Sweetheart, you’ve been doing everything.”
Her cheeks burned, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned in closer, his nose brushing the curve of her jaw as he whispered, “And I’ve been trying real hard to keep my hands to myself... but now? Now, I’m done trying.”
Her breath caught, and before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, claiming her in a kiss that left no room for doubt. His hands roamed her body with purpose, pulling her flush against him, his erection pressing firmly against her pussy.
Her fingers found their way into his hair again, tugging gently at the strands as he groaned into her mouth, the sound reverberating through her. “You’re killing me, you know that?” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and filled with longing. “All I’ve been thinking about is this... you... for weeks.” He kissed her again, slower and deeper this time, as if savoring the moment.
“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he rasped when they parted for air, his forehead resting against hers. “But you’re about to find out.”
He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her body, his lips lingering on every inch of skin as if committing her to memory. When he reached the waistband of her drenched panties, he paused, his hands gripping her thighs firmly to keep her in place. Pressing his face against the soaked fabric, he inhaled deeply, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest.
“God, you smell so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger. His thumbs hooked into the sides of the delicate lace, slowly pulling it down her legs as he kept his eyes locked on hers. The intensity in his gaze made her pulse thunder in her ears. “You’ve been driving me insane,” he confessed, his lips brushing against her inner thigh as he tossed the damp fabric aside. “Every time I saw you in those little dresses... I thought about this. About getting under that hemline and taste you.”
Her body quivered at his words, her fingers tangling in the sheets beneath her as anticipation coiled tight in her core. “Bucky...” she breathed, her voice a plea.
“Patience,” he said again, his voice low and teasing, but there was no mistaking the edge of hunger in it. His hands spread her thighs further apart, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he held her open. His breath ghosted over her pussy, warm and tantalizing, making her gasp and clutch the sheets. “I want to take my time with you.”
And then his mouth was on her. His tongue dragged through her slick folds with slow, deliberate strokes, before barely retreating with a sinful hum. “Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste even better than I imagined.” He paused only long enough to meet her eyes, his own dark and full of promise. “And I’ve been imagining this for a long time.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he spread her pussy lips with his thumbs, baring her fully to him. His mouth latched onto her clit, his tongue swirling in lazy circles before he nursed it with intent. The sharp jolt of pleasure ripped a cry from her lips, her hips thrusting against his mouth involuntarily.
“Bucky! oh, God!” she gasped, her voice trembling as he kept at it, alternating between sucking and flicking her sensitive nub with maddening precision. His growl vibrated against her, the sound and sensation drawing another moan from deep within her chest.
“Stay still,” he commanded, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. The rumble of his voice sent shivers down her spine. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Two thick fingers joined the assault, sliding slowly into her wet heat, stretching her as they pressed in until they were knuckle-deep. She gasped, her walls clenching around him as he paused for a moment, letting her adjust before starting a maddening rhythm.
His mouth stayed on her clit, tongue flicking and circling in tandem with the slow, deliberate thrust of his fingers. The combination was overwhelming, a perfectly orchestrated symphony of pleasure that had her crying out his name, her thighs trembling as she struggled to keep still.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmured against her, his voice filled with awe and lust. His fingers curled inside her, finding that sweet spot that made her hips jerk off the bed. “Right there, huh? That’s it.”
Her breathing turned ragged, her hands gripping his hair tightly as her body climbed higher and higher toward release. He didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working her with relentless precision, coaxing her closer to the edge with every stroke.
The orgasm tore through her like an electric shock, sharp and all-consuming. Her body clenched tight, her muscles locking for a heartbeat before releasing uncontrollable spasms. Her walls clenched around his fingers, her back arching off the bed as a sharp cry tore from her lips. He growled with satisfaction, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he rode her through her climax, his mouth pressing soft, soothing kisses to her inner thigh as she shuddered beneath him.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, pulling his fingers free slowly and bringing them to his lips to taste. His darkened gaze met hers, his tongue flicking out to clean the slick from his fingers. “You’re fucking perfect.”
She barely had time to catch her breath before Bucky stood, towering over her, his eyes dark with intent. With a sharp tug, he kicked off his work boots, the thud of them hitting the floor making her jump slightly. Then came the metallic clink of his belt, the sound sending a thrill straight through her.
Her gaze was locked on him as he unzipped his jeans, the low rasp of the zipper making her stomach tighten. He tugged them down along with his underwear in one swift motion, revealing himself in all his glory. He was all broad shoulders and thick muscle. His broad chest and left arm were marred by scars that only added to the raw magnetism he exuded. And then there was his cock. Thick, hard, and so utterly intimidating that she bit her lip at the sight.
“Like what you see?” he asked, a lazy smile pulling at his lips.
She nodded, unable to form words as her cheeks flushed.
“Good,” he said, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking lazily as he took a step closer. “Because you’re going to feel all of me.”
Bucky climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her parted thighs. His hands gripped her waist, firm but careful, as though he might crush her if he wasn’t mindful of his strength. His cock rested heavy and hard against her slick folds, the head teasing her entrance as he rocked his hips slowly, coating himself.
“So wet,” he murmured, his voice a husky growl that sent a shiver down her spine. She moaned softly, her thighs trembling as the thick head of his cock pressed against her opening, the stretch beginning even before he was inside. He moved slowly, agonizingly so, letting her body adjust to his size inch by inch. Her walls fluttered around him as he filled her, her slick heat clenching tightly as he pushed deeper. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her breath hitched. “Oh my God, Bucky... you’re so-”
“Big?” he finished for her, his tone edged with dark amusement as he paused, fully sheathed inside her. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he rumbled, “That’s it, sweetheart.”
Her head fell back against the pillow as she panted, her body stretched to its limit, the delicious pressure bordering on too much. But as her hips shifted slightly, the friction sent a bolt of pleasure through her that made her moan his name.
Bucky groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding to her rear to tilt her hips upward. He withdrew slowly, almost to the tip, before thrusting back in with deliberate care. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, his gaze locked on her face as he started to move in earnest.
His pace began slow and steady, each thrust measured, but it wasn’t long before his control began to slip. His grip on her tightened as he quickened, the powerful thrusts rocking her body against the mattress. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, the wet slap of his cock driving deep into her pussy mingling with her moans and his guttural groans.
“Hold on to me,” he ordered, his voice rough with lust. Before she could process his words, he hooked an arm under her ass and lifted her effortlessly, sitting crisscrossed with her perched in his lap.
Her arms flew around his neck, clinging to him as the new angle made him hit even deeper. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust up into her, the force of his cock driving her wild. Her head fell forward, her forehead resting against his as she whimpered, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure building inside her.
“Look at me,” he demanded. Her hazy eyes met his as he tilted her hips slightly forward, the firm muscles just above his shaft slapping her clit with every thrust.
She cried out, her nails raking down his back as the coil inside her tightened, ready to snap. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
He groaned, his cock swelling even harder inside her as he chased her climax. “I’ve got you,” he promised, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”
Her orgasm hit her hard, her pussy clamping down on his cock as she cried out his name, her body trembling violently in his arms, and he growled in satisfaction.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he ground out, his movements growing erratic as her spasming walls pushed him closer to the edge. “You’re mine, doll. Mine.”
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself fully inside her, his cock pulsing as he spilled into her with a guttural moan. He held her tightly, pressing his forehead to her shoulder as they both panted, their bodies trembling from the intensity of their encounter.
For a moment, neither of them moved, the room filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing. Then, with utter gentleness, Bucky eased her back onto the bed, his body following hers as he stayed buried inside her. He braced himself on his forearms, keeping his weight off her but staying close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers.
A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced down at her, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “So,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “better than the breathtaking Highlander?”
Her breath hitched before she burst into laughter, making his smirk widen. “Oh, so much better,” she stated, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick, playful kiss. “I find the curt and gloomy lumberjack character more appealing.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “Curt and gloomy, huh?”
She nodded, her voice turning softer. “Mysterious. Rugged. A little broody. Kind. Thoughtful. Handsome.”
He blinked, caught off guard by the weight of her words. A faint flush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks, and he glanced away, suddenly looking very much like the socially awkward man she’d come to adore.
“Didn’t know I was signing up for flattery,” he muttered under his breath, his ears reddening as he busied himself with brushing away a strand of hair hanging on his face.
She laughed and cupped his cheek, gently forcing him to meet her gaze. “Just telling the truth,” She said softly, her thumb brushing over his stubbed skin.
He swallowed hard, the blush deepening as his lips twitched into a shy, crooked smile. “Still not used to it,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a murmur.
“Guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until you are,” she replied with a grin, pulling him down for another kiss before he could argue.
Dividers by: @strangergraphics
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#bucky barnes fic#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky x curvy!reader#Lumberjack!Bucky
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tags: park sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, size kink, strength kink, bulge kink, d/s dynamics, dom!sunghoon x sub!reader, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink?, nicknames (baby, princess, angel, hoonie, etc), slight fluff, lowkey pwp, reader is described to be shorter than hoon and is easy to pick up/throw around, reader is also very down bad for him (aren’t we all), etc
wc: 2.67k
add. notes: hoon won the poll i put out so i present to u my first ever enha work :3 thank u very much to everyone who voted n this will def not be the last enha fic i put out so do not worry there is much to come for hyung line!!! also icon creds to @/v4mpjay :3
. . .
sunghoon doesn’t know how much longer he can take this.
it all started when he began going to the gym regularly, slowly bulking his figure up and feeling himself grow out in his clothes. what used to be his lanky frame that greeted him in the mirror gradually turned into a built man with lean muscles and sharper features, adding to what was already there initially. it wasn’t like this wasn’t what he wanted though, albeit the entire reason why he even started working out in the first place being to improve his health and build better habits for himself, but the outcome wasn’t too bad in itself. he got used to feeling stronger, more lighter on his feet or less out of breath when he climbed the stairs, and it was enjoyable to know that he could lift twice his weight and still feel good as new. in some way, things felt like they were going swell.
that is, until you came into the picture.
now, sunghoon’s always known that you’re small compared to him. even when standing side by side, his height next to yours is a little laughable, though he supposes you’re used to that considering you’ve always been shorter than most of your peers. he’s well aware of how you have to go on your tippy-toes when you guys kiss, and the soft feel of your little hands in his is something that spins in his mind constantly when your fingers lace together. it doesn’t help that you always ask him to fetch your favourite mug from the top cabinet too, his larger physique towering over yours each time he leans over from behind you. he likes to tease you about it, revelling in the way you pout cutely back at him whenever he makes fun of you jokingly despite the small smile playing at your lips, but little do you know about the twisted fantasies breaching his thoughts every moment you spend together. he wonders if you would be disgusted? would you dump him and tell all your friends about what a creepy loser he was? sunghoon can’t help but imagine the worst case scenario, and it would be easy to bury these emotions down the hatchet had it not been for the fact that he’s started to think he is going mad too.
every time sunghoon comes home from the gym, every time he enters your shared apartment, sweat dripping down his forehead and his water-bottle empty, he swears on his dead grandmother that you start checking him out. it doesn’t help that he's always been attentive either, always needlessly easy at picking up the cues of your discomfort when you're outside in a social space for too long, or being able to tell instantly when you're anything other than the happy go lucky girlfriend he usually sees you as. so, when your lingering gaze begins to trail across his arms a little too long whenever he passes your shared bedroom on his way to the shower, or when your mouth opens and closes to swallow before you're pressing your thighs together subtly each time he moves to wipe himself down each time he’s home— it all sparks something in him. it told him to finally, finally indulge in the nasty thoughts he’s kept tucked away to himself once and for all.
except he doesn’t. because at the end of the day, sunghoon is a gentleman. he pulls open the doors for you with nonchalance written all over him despite his burning ears, and he brings you back your memorised coffee order alongside a few sweet treats when he knows you’re on your period. he holds you close when you’re asleep in bed together, rubbing a gentle thumb against the skin of your cheek because he’s aware that’s what it takes for you to fall asleep, and makes sure you know he’s always going to be there for you in any time of need, even if he’s a thousand miles away. he’s never once made you doubt him, never once given you any reason to suspect he could be anything beyond the perfect, storybook written boyfriend he’s always been.
until today, at least.
it was a day like any other, a day where you wouldn’t have expected things to take the turn they took at all. you and sunghoon were tangled up in your lavender sheets with your leg thrown over his, the morning sun streaming through the beige curtains you’d picked out on your ikea date together, and no alarms were intact to disturb you as it was the weekend. that’s probably why you both found yourselves in your current situation, your mouths meeting sloppily for short kisses and your boyfriend’s cock buried to the hilt inside you, thrusting ever so gently every other second as he whispered sweet praises to you between the meshing of your lips. the only sounds heard beyond the chirping of the birds outside your window were your soft moans and his low grunts, alongside the quiet noises of your slick dragging against his dick.
“fuck, baby. you feel so good.” sunghoon mumbles, pressing gentle smooches along the skin of your chin and jaw. you reply back something unintelligible, too lost in the euphoria he’s providing you to even form a coherent answer, which only makes him chuckle. he pulls back to admire your figure underneath him, a smile spreading across his lip at the sight of you laid out oh so pretty and pliant just for him. for him. all for his use. his use and his use only. the eventual thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and sunghoon momentarily slows down his movements in fear he’ll accidentally lose control of himself and fuck you into the sheets. his loss of momentum causes you to whine out loud though, large doe eyes blinking up at him in wonder, almost as if asking what happened, which does not make your boyfriend’s job any easier.
“hoonie, faster.” you beg softly, one hand coming up to grip his shoulder as the other bundles up the duvet underneath you. “please, wan’ it so bad.” sunghoon feels like his resolve is on the brink of snapping at your words, and he quickly resumes his previous pace (albeit still slower than what you wanted but better nonetheless) with gritted teeth, trying to think of something, anything that would distract him from the realisation of how fucking small you look under him, or how soft your hand feels resting on his skin. it doesn’t help that the sounds spewing from your lips are so cute, only spurring him on further to do what he longs to.
“yeah, angel? want it faster? want hoonie to fuck you deeper?” he groans out instead, biting his lip at the sight of you nodding almost instantly to his words. your hole clenches even tighter around him as he speaks to you, and he shudders at the sensation. “shit, don’t do that, princess. might cum too quickly.” he exhales shakily, confused when you shake your head. “don’t care. cum f’me. wanna feel it, please.” you plead almost instantly without thinking, sunghoon’s eyes darkening as the request leaves your mouth. his pace comes to an immediate halt after that, and you make a noise of complaint at the loss of pleasure in your lower region, legs kicking up slightly in protest as you eye your boyfriend who’s currently trying to compose himself above you.
“don’t.. don’t say stuff like that.” sunghoon sighs, eyes closed shut as you cock your head to the side. you’re about to ask him why when he speaks up again. “i won’t be able to hold myself back if you do.” he professes darkly, opening his orbs back up to look deep into yours, his smouldering gaze making you shiver. you involuntary tighten around him at his confession, and he hisses at the feeling, head snapping to look down at you and the blush spreading across your cheeks.
“i-i don’t.. don’t want you to hold back.” you mutter whilst looking away meekly before he can even comment on your actions. you meet his stare again after a beat of silence, but there’s something dark and sinister swimming in it now, and by the time you can even process what it is, he’s suddenly sheathing himself back into your warm walls, plowing into you with a heightened pace as if this is the last time he’ll ever get to fuck you. your moans tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop them, and you swear you hear sunghoon growl at the way you keen from his movements.
“yeah? don’t want me to hold back? want me to absolutely destroy this wet cunt with my cock? ruin it for everybody else and mould it to the shape of my dick?” he grunts, a smirk spread across his face as you wildly nod at his words. “what, too fucked out to speak now, baby? where’s that confidence from before, hm?” you whimper at his condescending tone, the noise travelling straight to his core as he curses, continuing to plunge himself deep into you. the tip of his cock brushes against that spongey spot inside you, and you cry out when he angles his thrusts to hit it each time he drives inside your pussy.
“who knew you were such a slut, huh baby? tell me, how long have you wanted me to spread you open and fuck you like i hated you?” sunghoon pants, tongue lolling out to lick at the sweat gathering on your neck. “s-so long, hoonie!” you mewl in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bites down on your skin. “wanted you to— hnng, wanted you to bend me over and throw me around so bad!” sunghoon laughs breathlessly at your answer.
“yeah, pretty? want me to use my big arms and toss you onto the bed? you should’ve told me sooner that you were such a whore.” you clench at the degrading name, and sunghoon almost stumbles into you at the sudden jolt of shock. “would’ve done everything you wanted me to. wanted it just as bad as you, did ya know that?” he grits out, pace unrelenting and unforgiving as he proceeds to pound into you. “you’re so fucking small, baby. makes me so goddamn hard every time i think about it. just want to, oh fuck— want to hold you down and make you take it.”
“do it! do it, hoonie, please do it! make me take it, i wan’ take it for you.” you sob, and sunghoon physically feels the last of his self restrain break in half. he’s far too fucked out now to go back to his old ways, far too gone in the dizziness of making you feel good. his only goal now is to make you cum violently around him, and he’ll stop at nothing to achieve that. “gonna do it, baby. just wait, gonna fuck you so dumb, you’ll be begging me to stop.” he pauses momentarily to grab at the plush of your thigh and tosses your leg over his shoulder, resuming his past actions in the blink of an eye as you cry out at the change. he hits deeper, more harsh this way, and you swear you can feel him battering your cervix with each thrust delivered to your abused cunt.
“fuck, look at that.” sunghoon laughs in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the slightly evident bulge of his cock thrusting in and out of you in your stomach. “taking my cock so well, princess. you gonna cum for me soon, yeah? gonna cum for hoonie and make a mess of me?” he coos at the way you’re drooling, swiping a thumb up to wipe at the spit leaking out of your mouth before sucking it off, the visual of it only making you whine even more. by now, the bed is stained with your leaking arousal, but neither of you care, especially not when he involuntarily moves his hand to press down on your stomach. his movements only cause you to double over in pleasure, and before either of you know it, you’re shaking through an orgasm, thrashing and wailing as tears stream down your face.
“shit, shit, shit! that’s so hot, oh fuck.” sunghoon moans. “you did so well, angel. did so fucking good for me, you deserve a reward, don’t you? don’t you, my baby?” he rambles, and you whine in overstimulation as his thrusts grow more frantic and misplaced when he begins chasing his own release. “get ready, princess, ‘m gonna fill you up. gonna breed you so, so good and make you take it, yeah? you’ll take it, won’t you? take it so good for me like you always do.” by this point, you’re both trembling and whining out loud, sunghoon pistoning his hips into you as he desperately fixes to cum. he can feel the pressure building up, his balls tightening with each harsh thrust he delivers inside of you, and you’re more than ready to feel him ooze out of you, encouraging words spilling from your lips.
“do it, hoonie! do it, please! make me full and fuck it back into me. i’ll take it so good, so good, please baby, please.” you’re babbling by now, too fucked out to think let alone speak, but your words seem to send sunghoon over the edge because by the time you’re even halfway through your sentence, he’s shooting ropes inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed. there’s so much of it that it almost leaks out despite his cock keeping you plugged up, and you watch his beautiful face contort in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes clenched shut as he continues filling you up.
“fuck..” sunghoon sighs out once he’s come down from his high, looking down to grip his cock and pull it out slightly only to push it back in when your cunt gushes with his release, causing him to bite his lip at the sinful sight. you whine when he moves back into you, his large arms caging your smaller frame in as he leans down to pepper salty kisses all over your face. “my good girl.” he whispers, slightly collapsing on top of you to catch his breath. his weight on you feels comforting, almost natural as you wrap your tired arms around his back tightly, pressing your bodies together even more than they already are to feel closer and connected to him.
“i didn’t know you were into that.” sunghoon speaks up after a moment of silence, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. he moves so he’s laying on his side, cock still keeping you plugged up despite the awkward position. “into what?” he deadpans at your reaction, and you giggle. “c’mon, babe. you can’t seriously look like that and expect me to not be feral for you.” you smile, and sunghoon huffs out a laugh, spooning an arm around you as he pulls your body closer to his warm one. “still, who knew my girl was so freaky?” you swat at him, and his chest rumbles with laughter, the sound sending an odd pool of warmth flowing through your chest. you both lay there in silence after that, basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the serenity and afterglow which comes from what was quite literally the best sex of your lives.
“i love you.” you hear sunghoon mumble suddenly, his voice drowsy as he yawns cutely, a large grin spreading on your face at the simple three words which leave him. you reach out for his hand, lacing your small fingers in it before bringing it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. “love you more, hoonie.” you sigh out in satisfaction, eyes slipping shut slowly as sleep welcomes your tired senses.
you gradually drift off, thoughts filled with sweet dreams of your boyfriend and his precious laughter.
. . .
comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3
#✰ sunny's oneshots!#park sunghoon#sunghoon smut#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enha smut#sunghoon
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Guerrilla
serialkiller!dr.yunho x writer!reader
he is a serial killer with morals okay almost a vigilante
dni if you're not comfortable with this trope.
genres and warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, violence warnings, atz as doctors cameos, some gory descriptions, twisted morals, past trauma, questionable stuff honestly esp yunho's intrusive thoughts, read at your own risk.
word count: ~27k
synopsis: you're a crime fiction writer and you move in with dr. jeong yunho despite his strange, strict house rules. he's very private and you don't mind that, but he's also very cold and unapproachable and you're determined to crack through his walls. little did you know your obsession with gore and crime would melt his heart. Soon, you find yourself tangled in lies, secrets and a detective from your past who suspects yunho and his gang as you navigate thru your relationship with him.
manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (i had a dream. we talked about it and this happened-)
“You know, if you could just help me bring my bags inside instead of staring at me like I’m about to commit a homicide, maybe you wouldn’t have to complain about the noise and not being able to focus on… whatever the heck you wanted to do.”
Yunho blinked. Was he hearing you right? When you cocked your head waiting for a response, he licked his suddenly dry lips. “I’m just worried about the amount of bags you’ve brought at this hour of night.”
The ungodly hours after midnight. You tucked your hair behind your ears before dragging one of the heavier bags to your room, the floorboard creaking unceremoniously. You heard the groan of your house owner who finally got up after a solid ten minutes of judging you and went to the porch to pick up a bag-
And almost fell on his knees.
“What the fuck did you put in here?”
“What do you think?” You asked, throwing the bag in your room and going to the porch, snatching the bag and dragging it yourself.
“A body?”
“Or two,” you muttered under your breath and again, Yunho thought he was hearing things. “It’s just my books. I thought I mentioned in the form that I’m an aspiring writer and would be coped up in my room reading or writing most hours of the day. I really won’t bother you much, just help me get my bags inside before the rain gets any worse. I don’t want my books getting ruined.”
Begrudgingly, Yunho obeyed, dragging two bags at once just to show you he wasn’t weak. You, however, did not bat an eye, much to his annoyance. After bringing in the last bags, he stood in your room looking around.
“I’m not sure this room is big enough for your books…”
“Don’t worry, I’ve lived in smaller rooms with more books,” you finally cracked a smile. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Jeong. I thought you’re usually doing night shifts?”
“I had a day off today and planned to sleep, but unfortunately, you disturbed my sleep.”
“You’re welcome,” you weren’t going to let him damper the mood. “Since you’re awake now, might as well tell me any rules about the house so I can finally go fix up a meal for myself. And an apology meal for you, though, as the owner of this house, you should be in the kitchen fixing something for your newly arrived housemate. But… I won’t complain.”
Yunho folded his arms, considering you. There was something about you that didn’t make him want to kill you in the most painful way, which was odd for him. He recalled the last time someone moved in with him and he almost dissected him alive. “Nice to meet you too, y/n. I’m trusting you read the rules before you decided to move in?”
“‘Minimal noise especially during the day, no intervening in each other’s business, an absolute no to bringing over people even if they are your family- if you have to, on a three-days notice, and… no getting to know each other. The workshop in the garage and the upper floor is off-limits.’ I believe I got them right?”
“You have an exceptional memory,” Yunho was impressed for once. “Why did you move here?”
“I’m sure you read my response in your form too, but to put it simply, I can’t afford a nicer place, though I’m curious why a doctor is living in such a dodgy little house in a shady town-”
“I, too, need to make ends meet,” Yunho explained even though he could have easily ignored your question. “Circumstances. Besides, I get a whole house instead of a cramped apartment in the city, and my workplace is close.”
“I know! Cramped apartments are suffocating. Even though I’ll only own a room here and share the floor, at least it’s a… house.”
Yunho nodded. “I’ll give you three days to settle down and break any rules except the ones mentioned in the form. Now, I understand that you can cook?”
“Always been a good cook,” you said proudly.
“We can share the kitchen expenses and if you cook enough for the both of us, I can take 40 percent off your rent. Fair offer, isn’t it?”
“Peculiar is what it is,” you told him. “But I won’t question you. If I have to cook, might as well for the both of us. Saves me money in the long run, and I need to save every penny I can.”
“Right. There are a few cabinets locked in the kitchen, please don’t try to open them. I can’t think of any other rules right now, but try to keep it down, will you? And again, the upper floor is absolutely off-limits.”
“Got it,” you nodded. “Let me know your usual schedule so I don’t think there’s a serial killer entering my apartment in the middle of the night.”
Once again, Yunho had to stop himself from twitching in surprise. “What’s your obsession with serial killers and murders? You’ve mentioned them numerous times in the past half an hour.”
“I think the rules go both ways, Dr. Jeong Yunho,” you smiled teasingly, opening one of the bags and taking a deep breath at the amount of books in it. “But if you have to know… my genres are crime fiction and mystery. I hope I don’t scare you away, especially if I ask you something odd about human anatomy.”
Yunho almost gaped at you before shaking his head and exiting your room, absolutely unnerved by you in a mere half an hour. It was crazy- usually, he was the one making people feel alarmed or discomposed, but you were an odd one for sure. However, as with every past housemate, he was sure you were going to get on his nerves and he would have to either bury your bones in the backyard- consequently breaking the ‘code’- or plan something elaborate and chase you out.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be a pleasant person to share the house with. But when he opened the door at about 1am to a distraught looking girl that didn’t even reach his shoulders carrying six bags, some bigger than her… he wondered if he should kick you right out and remove the ad he had put in on a few websites looking for a ‘peaceful’ housemate. He was sure you must have some thoughts about him too- he wasn’t the most welcoming person and people would eventually get curious about his closed-off personality and start snooping around.
For now, Yunho peeked into your room from the stairs- you had your hands on your hips and were assessing the room, probably planning how you could fit everything in there. He checked the time- he needed to leave soon. Praying silently that you would just fall asleep or something instead of snooping around, he went to his room to get ready.
You, though, had no plans to sleep tonight. You needed to set your room and get some sleep so you could meet the deadline of your draft that was due this weekend- only three days away. You assessed the space in the room again- if you could move the bed to the corner, you could place your computer table and chair there which would be arriving in the morning. You could line the books along the rest of the walls on the floor. You didn’t need any fancy shelves. Thankfully, this room had its own closet so you wouldn’t need to worry about where to fit your clothes.
You exited the room into the living room space, wanting to get the bearings of this house. The toilet was right in front of your room and one of the reasons you moved into this dodgy house was that it was… a good house. A toilet all to yourself was a blessing, and upon checking it looked clean.
The living room wasn’t too big but it looked cosy. You noticed a lack of personal belongings and decided to add a few potted plants on the windows soon. There was no TV but you had a projector and if you moved the couch, you could have a whole plain wall which was perfect to watch dramas when Yunho would be away. The kitchen space was at the opposite end with a large countertop in between and it looked like Yunho had most of the kitchen appliances already.
And at the end where the main door was, there were stairs leading up to the doctor’s space. Off-limits. You wondered why he was so uptight but you figured that as long as he was letting you live almost for free in return for home-cooked meals and maintaining the house, you could tolerate him. It was strange if you thought about it but you didn’t have the luxury to overthink right now.
You finally had a place- better than an apartment, yet something you could afford. You found yourself smiling. You just need to meet your deadlines now and hopefully publish your book by the end of the year- before the publishers change their mind.
But first… coffee.
You went to your room to get the bottle of your favourite coffee blend, which was really a mixture from a few different brands that you had come up with after years of experimentation. You set two cups on the counter and checked the fridge for milk. You weren’t sure about the doctor’s preferences so you made a simple latte like your own. You were just finishing up when you heard the dull footsteps of him descending the stairs.
“I made coffee…” you trailed off- now that he was in a white button down and black slacks with his hair styled, it finally settled in.
Doctor Jeong Yunho was pretty damn attractive.
“Uh…” he looked around awkwardly before grabbing the mug and taking a sip, raising his brows in surprise. “This… is actually pretty good.”
You grinned. “My own blend.”
He made an impressed face and you took that opportunity to ask. “You don’t mind if I make a few changes to this floor, right? Nothing major, just a few plants here and there, maybe get a chair or two, move the furniture around to make space for the projector?”
“Isn’t it too early for that?” Yunho frowned. “I might kick you out before that. Or you might end up leaving-”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you dismissed. “What I mean is, I’m staying out of your way so you would have no reason to kick me out because I really, really cannot get a better deal than I got with you.”
“Sure, then,” he finished his coffee. “Do whatever you like as long as you stick to the rules. I’ll be on my way then.”
You relaxed, mind already buzzing with ideas as you headed towards your room to fix your draft.
—-------------------------------
The trial period Yunho had given you was over and you were now seated in the kitchen with your third cup of coffee since midnight, awaiting your judgement.
Really, you were telling yourself that you shouldn’t worry. If you had to be your own judge, you had done a spectacular job of staying out of the doctor’s way except when unavoidable- which was usually right before he left for work around midnight when you would both eat dinner, or his usual shift in the later hours of morning. He insisted that he was fine eating alone and you didn’t have to wait for him to eat your own dinner, and yes, he sounded like he could be anywhere but there, but you told him that if you were cooking for him, you’d rather he eat at least one meal with you. For what reason, you didn’t give and he didn’t ask.
You didn’t give because you may be a self-proclaimed good cook but you were also someone who was sensitive. And that meant that if Yunho didn’t like something you cooked, you would be ready to take constructive criticism and improve.
And he didn’t ask because he could see that you were a sensitive one. He knew the moment he told you off for filling the house with potted plants within one day and you almost teared up asking if he didn’t like the signs of life around the house. He actually almost laughed at that but when he realised you were serious, he told you he wouldn’t take care of the plants. You told him you wouldn’t expect him to because the plants were ‘your babies’ and had moved two houses with you already.
So yes, you stayed out of his way. You cooked for him. You cleaned the house quite a bit- so much that Yunho almost didn’t recognise his own porch because of how different it looked in the span of a few hours that he was absent from the house. He made a point of telling you right after that your trial period wasn’t up, and you made a point of retorting with how you were just waiting for him to give in, to which you earned a scowl. By now, you knew that the doctor was not very friendly- at least not immediately. You wondered if that was the reason why he had troubles with his past housemates.
When you heard the sound of keys jingling and the door unlocking, you straightened and started heating up the dinner- you kept it traditional today- rice, beef and a lot of side dishes. Perhaps, it was your last attempt to win him over, and your heart was beating loudly with anticipation. You never waited for him to come home and share a meal in the early hours of morning but today, you made an exception. You turned around to greet him-
Finding his clothes stained with what had to be blood. His hair was all messed up as well and he had a bruise on his cheek. You exhaled. “Looks like somebody had a long night shift.”
“What are you doing this early in the morning?” He took off his shoes that you noticed were quite muddy. It hadn’t rained in a few days so you briefly wondered where he had been, but you shook your head.
No questions asked. That was the rule.
“Prepared breakfast? For you,” you scratched your suddenly itchy neck. “For obvious reasons. Last attempt to bribe you before you announce your decision.”
Yunho scanned you for a few moments before he said, “I should change first.”
“Of course,” you nodded. “I’ll set the table in the meantime.”
Yunho nodded and went upstairs, going to the room at the end of the hallway and dumping his shirt and trousers in the washing machine, turning it on. He needed to get rid of the blood as soon as possible and detergent wouldn’t be enough so he grabbed a soap and rubbed the stains on his shirt for good measure- now, the clothes would wash themselves.
It was almost a mechanical routine now, he scoffed at how his hands worked on their own now. He went to his room, unlocking it and changing into sweats. Usually, he didn’t eat much before sleeping- after all, due to his night shifts, he slept for most hours of the day and breakfast wasn’t something he cared about, but the smell of beef was making his stomach rumble. He figured he could make an exception today.
By the time he joined you at the table, there were a variety of dishes in front of him and he raised a brow at you. “You really went all out, huh?”
“Of course I would,” you shrugged. “But I’ll be honest. I got most of these side dishes as a gift from one of my friends from work.”
Yunho nodded, thanking you for the meal and eating silently, waiting and waiting but you never asked him about his bloody clothes. Did you dismiss it because you thought it might be from a patient? Or because you simply didn’t care? Was he lucky then, having found you as his housemate? Because one of the qualities he needed in his housemate that he simply couldn’t have stated in the form was a lack of curiosity or inquisitiveness. It was different than being nosy- he could deal with nosy but not someone who would overstep their boundaries because they were curious.
It was why he was apprehensive of you at first. You were a writer. Writers had to be curious and inquisitive, and you were. He knew you were only beginning right now, but the few occasions you had been curious, he was thrown off. And for the right reasons-
“As a doctor, do you think it’s more painful to bleed to death or to drown?”
“As a doctor… do you think a sharp pencil stab to the jugular vein could be fatal?”
That was really all you ever asked him. His opinion as a doctor. You asked with such simplicity that he couldn’t help but stop whatever he was doing and really think about the answer-
“I personally think it’s more painful to drown. The water burns you from the inside. Bleeding to death… you stop feeling things at a certain point and it gets easier from there.”
“Well, it depends on the location of the stab but I reckon if it’s around the base of the neck, it could be fatal. But it would have to be embedded quite deep, and then extracted so a person can bleed to death. If it stays in, there’s no point.”
And his answers would earn him your satisfaction and suddenly, you would be muttering to yourself and going for your room, probably to note it down. He had done his research there too- if he was going to have you as his housemate, he needed to do a background check on you. He didn’t find anything odd in your socials- you tended to stay anonymous and most of your blogs were writing-focused. And when he snooped in your room while you were away grocery shopping, he only found various notes and books on crime and methods of serial killers. He was ashamed to admit he spent quite some time on that book and learned a lot.
So now, having finished the delicious breakfast (you really were a good cook) and finding you uninterested in his whereabouts and the aching bruise on his cheek, he finally cracked the first smile in three days.
“I’ll let you live if you take care of the house like you have been so far. And you really don’t need to wait for me during meals. The rules are still the same.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and laughed in relief. “Thank you. I’ll stick by the rules, and I’ll probably have dinner with you if I’m not busy- I don’t like eating alone, to be honest. You can pretend I’m not there if that’s what bothers you. Also…”
When Yunho urged you to continue, your shoulders relaxed in relief but your brows crunched in annoyance. “Do you have to bring your muddy shoes inside? I just cleaned.”
Yunho looked towards the doorway. “I can’t leave them out.”
“Well, I can’t have muddy shoes inside, so you’ll have to do something about it yourself or else I’ll be annoyed and have to clean them myself and you do not want me cleaning your shoes-”
“Okay,” Yunho waved a hand to shut you up. “I’ll take them off on the porch next time.”
“Good,” you folded your arms, considering him. “I think we’re good then.”
Yunho narrowed his eyes. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that…”
“Well, now that we’ve settled everything, I hope you and I will get along,” you extended your hand and he warily shook it, aware of how small your hand was in his. “Now, since you’re a doctor, I must ask if you’ll take care of the loud bruise on your cheek before you sleep. We don’t want it looking worse than it already is.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he assured, and he couldn’t help but continue. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“I’ll admit that I’m curious, but I won’t break a rule- and I won’t be tricked into breaking one either,” you winked at him and once again, he found himself smiling. “I’ll just assume you had a bad day at work or a rough case. You must often get them as a… surgeon?”
He nodded and you started stacking the dishes. “You can go rest now. I’ve installed a clothesline in the backyard- I really wonder where you’ve been drying your clothes all this time, but I won’t ask. You should try hanging your clothes outside this time.”
For a moment, Yunho wondered if he should have kicked you out.
“I just have a question before you disappear,” you turned and he paused in his tracks, wondering if his stealth was worsening. “It’s an odd one, for my book, but… approximately how long would a healthy man suffer with a stab wound to this area-” you rubbed the left side of your stomach, “- given the weapon is an old 12-inch kitchen knife that’s been sharpened way too many times?”
For a moment, Yunho wondered if he had forgotten to lock the cabinet in the kitchen that contained all of his knives. “You’re uh… oddly specific.”
“I have to be,” you shrugged.
“Well…” Yunho rubbed his chin, thinking of all the patients and victims he had dealt with so far. “Can I sleep on it?”
—-----------------------
Your life was finally not falling apart, for once.
In fact, perhaps this was the calmest that things had been for a good few years now, you mused to yourself as you mopped the floor, your usual instrumental playlist on a considerable volume playing in the living room. Ever since you graduated and had to face the reality of navigating through life as an adult, mostly on your own, you had to tackle a lot of struggles and obstacles. Sure, things got better when you finally signed a contract with a publishing company and started writing for them, but whenever you thought things calmed down, there was always something happening to make you feel like everything was falling apart once again.
Like a few weeks ago when you had to move out of your apartment that you had lived in for three years because the owner decided to sell the building and every tenant had to empty their apartment on a rather short notice. You were compensated but that wasn’t enough because everything was so expensive now. You couldn’t go back to your hometown- if you went back, you would never be able to leave again. So you scoured the internet and found your current place.
And things were finally okay. You did not have to worry about rent- you were doing a good job at maintaining the house and feeding the owner proper meals and so far, he had no complaints with you (he told you if he ever did, he would make sure you knew). You were now able to keep up with your weekly deadlines and finally able to overcome your writer’s block- all thanks to Yunho.
Over the past two weeks, while you could not say that Yunho had warmed up to you, he was getting there alright. You could tell because he stopped complaining about you overcleaning- or perhaps, he admitted defeat. He also stopped protesting when you joined him for dinner before he left for work at night and it was then you would ask him all the questions you had- mostly injuries related, sometimes medical law, but you found that he was knowledgeable in legal law as well. He was never curious about why you asked him all your odd questions, but one day, he asked you what exactly you were writing.
“I’m writing about a female detective who’s assigned to a case of serial killings in her precinct. The serial killer is a strange one because he does not have a fixed method of killing and his victim pool has no pattern, and at first the detective believes that there is a group of them which may or may not be working together, but towards the end, I reveal that there was only one… and the serial killer was from the same station as her so he always knew what to avoid.”
And that was the only time Yunho looked remotely impressed with what you did- if you didn’t count the time he saw you carrying a tower of books and wondered how a tiny thing like you could carry so much. After that, whenever you told him about your progress during dinner (you insisted you needed to talk out loud about it and if he didn’t want to hear it, he could say so because you were used to talking to the walls) he would offer clarifications at least about the things that concerned him. You asked him if he had dealt with a lot of fatal wounds in surgery.
“When I was a beginner, that’s when I got the worst of them,” he admitted. “But I don’t work in the fancy hospitals anymore. With some of my colleagues, we opened our own private clinic. The hospital life wasn’t for me- at least not right now.”
That was all he offered about his personal life and you didn’t ask why he couldn’t handle a hospital life right now. Perhaps, he was going through some of his own troubles like you were too. He tended to spend most of his free time out anyway so you figured that medical practice wasn’t the only thing he was doing.
Plus, he had a thing for cars- old, beaten up cars that he would fix in his garage that he called his ‘workshop’. He would dedicate his weekend to those cars and would become so absorbed that he would forget to eat. One time, you made a smoothie for him because he had skipped his meal and when you went to the garage and cleared your throat, he appeared in your vision, all rough and messed up. You stifled your smile and raised the glass in your hand. He simply asked you to leave it in the corner and go away.
He forgot to drink that and you found it the next day in the same spot, to your dismay.
You sighed to yourself when you recalled that day, placing the mop next to the wall while you cleaned the window in the living room. You spotted a car in front of your neighbour’s house where the old couple lived and you figured it might finally be their son paying them a visit. You had actually met the couple while on your way to the convenience store and they asked you if the doctor was giving you any trouble.
“I don’t know why he couldn’t have a housemate for so long,” the old woman shook his head in worry. “He’s such a kind young man. He checks on us every weekend even though he is busy and he makes sure we go to our monthly checkups.”
“Really?” That was unexpected. “Sounds like a kind young man indeed.”
She laughed. “You must be a good person if you’ve stuck around for this long. If he gives you any trouble, just let me know and I’ll give him an earful, yeah?”
You let out a short laugh, wanting to tell her that it was probably the other way round, but it had you wondering why his previous housemates didn’t last long enough with him. He wasn’t a very strict person and the rules weren’t something one couldn’t obey. Was it because of his cold demeanour? You had to admit that he was very mysterious and sometimes, you wondered just what exactly he did other than his medical practice.
Maybe curiosity does kill the cat, so you would let it go.
You were just stacking the mops back in the shed when you heard the sound of Yunho’s bike- you could recognise the sound of his bike now- it wasn’t too loud like other bikes but had a deep sound. You turned to find him parking it in the garage and you checked your wristwatch.
“You’re… early today.”
It was half past four, the sun just starting to illuminate the sky. He usually came back when the sun was fully out. He took off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair, scanning you.
“Yes, I am,” he got off the bike, not offering an explanation. You didn’t need one either. He simply nodded at you once in greeting before going inside-
Leaving a trail of muddy boot prints again.
Cursing at him, you grabbed the mop and started cleaning after him, noticing he took off his shoes on the porch this time. You made a face at the shoes, wishing you could have made it at him and picked them up and wiped them on the grass to get most of the mud off before setting them back on the porch. When you got inside, Yunho cleared his throat.
“You don’t have to take care of my shoes, I’ve said it multiple times-”
“I just cleaned,” you clenched your jaw, turning to him. “Look. You’ve got rules in this house, and as your housemate, I’ll state my rules too.”
“Oh?” He looked amused. “Please, carry on.”
“Wipe your shoes on the grass before you take them off on the porch,” you exhaled, a weight off your shoulders. “I hate it when I have just cleaned the entire house and you come from work with your muddy shoes trampling all over my hard work.”
“Trampling might be a strong word…”
“You get my point,” you glared at him and he straightened, nodding. This was the first time he saw you angry and-
He was trying his best not to laugh right now.
“Any other rules?” He managed to ask without cracking up.
“Just…” you looked around. “Oh yes, I’ve got one. When you wash your hands in the sink, you should wipe your hands with that towel-” you pointed at the twin bunny hand towels hanging by the hook you attached on the wall next to the sink. “You can use the blue one. I have the towel for the purpose that you don’t go around spreading a water trail after yourself.”
This time, Yunho turned around and finally let out the laugh he had been holding back and you stood gaping at him, wondering if you should congratulate yourself for finally making him laugh or if the bubbling thing in your throat was your anger worsening. “What? If you don’t like that, you can kick me out.”
“No,” he turned around to face you, looking down. “I’m… sorry. I won’t do that again, I’ll abide by the rules. You don’t have to get so angry-”
“I’m not angry-”
Yunho stifled another smile, shaking his head as if to stop himself from laughing again and you narrowed your eyes.
“You can laugh in front of me. I don’t bite.”
But perhaps, that was the wrong thing to say. His smile faded and he went back to being the same, cold doctor. “You should go to sleep now.”
Just like that, he dismissed you. He dismissed you like any other time you almost cracked through his cold, mysterious demeanour. And just like always, you let him dismiss you and left him alone.
He might not kick you out for setting these rules but if you continued to try to get him to break this wall he had built all around him… he would have no other option. Curiosity could kill you, you knew, but you were so curious about what kind of a person he was. You didn’t have many neighbours but the old couple insisted he was very kind and friendly when Yunho had been anything but friendly to you. He had been distant, unapproachable, sometimes talkative but rarely smiling like he had today. You refused to believe that this was who he was. He had the brightest smile and the most heartwarming laugh that you heard today, and you vowed to yourself that even though he might kick you out for crossing boundaries…
You would make him laugh. Slowly, and surely, you would break him.
—--------------------------
Yunho had had a few eventful days and perhaps, work was the only place he felt at home now, surrounded by all of his friends who knew him. Knew who he was. Knew and didn’t judge him for being the kind of person that he was. Sure, in his own home, he felt comfortable too (except for when a certain someone started nagging) but his true home was with his people.
And to find you pop up at his workplace without a notice made his eyes twitch in annoyance and realise that the urge to kill you might not be as strong as before but it was there alright.
“What are you doing here?” He said through gritted teeth, surprising not only the old lady from next door but also the staff who walked past you.
“Jeong Yunho, that is no way to talk to a lady!” The woman said, shaking her head in disappointment and when you saw Yunho’s features soften when he met her gaze, you scoffed. “She was kind enough to walk me here- I’m having a lot of trouble with my vision all of a sudden.”
“You should have called the ambulance then,” Yunho frowned, taking the woman’s hand and guiding her across the hallway, disappearing at the end and you pursed your lips, deciding to take a seat in the waiting area.
You looked around- the clinic was big enough and the staff had been kind. It looked like it ran well. There weren’t many people here right now- only a few patients in the waiting and you read the board to see that there were a number of doctors available- a gynaecologist, dentist, paediatrician, psychiatrist, nephrologist, eye specialist, ent specialist and orthopaedic surgeon. You were reading the names of all the doctors when you felt eyes on you and you saw a man in a lab coat watching you with mild amusement. You looked away but when you realised he was still staring, you raised a brow at him and he finally approached you.
“I happened to see your interaction with Yunho earlier, and couldn’t help but wonder if you were the new housemate we’ve heard so much about?”
You were rendered speechless- first of all, he seemed to be pretty damn close with Yunho. Either that or he was nosy, but you knew Yunho wasn’t the type to keep nosy people around. And then…
The housemate ‘we’ had heard so much about?
“Uh… You’re telling me that Dr. Jeong Yunho talks about me? Here? At his workplace? Who might you be?”
“I’m Dr. Jung Wooyoung,” he extended his hand and you shook it. “I’m the dentist here, and an old friend of Yunho’s. I don’t know if he mentioned but our friend group opened up this clinic here.”
“He mentioned colleagues, not friends,” you told him and he shook his head in disappointment. “But nice to meet you, doctor. I’m y/n, the housemate Yunho talks about a lot- all good things, I hope?”
Thus, Wooyoung started retelling every conversation he had with him about you and you found him very easy to talk to. There was just something about him that invited you to relax and let loose, and soon after you heard that Yunho had told them all about you being a nagger and a clean-freak weirdo writer, you were complaining about how Yunho was borderline mean to you and you found it hard to believe that he was the warm, kind and funny person that Wooyoung insisted he was.
“I mean… the lady that I brought with me? Our neighbour? I told her she was wrong when she said that Yunho was a kind young man, but you’re saying he’s the funny one? I haven’t seen him smile in days, Wooyoung.”
“He’ll get used to you in no time,” Wooyoung waved his hand in dismissal. “You just gotta keep trying. Me? I cracked him in two days.”
“No way,” you laughed. “I’ve only made him laugh once and it’s been about a month-”
“Haven’t you got patients waiting for you, Dr. Jung?”
You froze, turning around slowly to see a tense Yunho standing at the corner, watching you two for god knows how long. You were about to apologise to Wooyoung for keeping him back but Wooyoung scoffed at Yunho.
“I expected better from you, mate. I like this one- I’m taking her to Hongjoong’s room,” Wooyoung said, getting up and helping you up too, steering you by your shoulders towards the hallway even though you protested and when you looked back to catch a glimpse of Yunho, you caught him shaking his head in disappointment-
But he let out a chuckle. He probably thought you couldn’t see him. He probably laughed because of Wooyoung. But he was going to get so mad at you-
“Don’t worry, he won’t kick you out,” Wooyoung almost whispered, winking at you. “If he tries anything, you come to me, okay? I’ll handle him.”
“Thanks,” you smiled awkwardly. “Where exactly are you taking me?”
“I would have taken you to Mingi, who’s Yunho’s oldest friend and would have given you tips on how to make Yunho give you the princess treatment, but he’s a little occupied right now so I’m taking you to Yunho’s second-oldest friend, Hongjoong.”
“When I accompanied the neighbour lady, I didn’t mean to intrude,” you paused in your tracks, looking at Wooyoung. “I’m not sure I should be here-”
“It’s okay,” Wooyoung assured you with a wide smile. “Relax. Yunho is not some big angry dude who’ll give you an earful at home. I’ll explain- and by now, he probably knows that I’m the one who’s basically kidnapped you.”
You laughed, allowing him to guide you to the eye specialist’s room and when you went inside, you saw the doctor packing his belongings. When he raised his head and brushed the dark strands away, he frowned at Wooyoung.
“The guest doesn’t look too pleased to be here, Wooyoung.”
“This is Yunho’s housemate,” Wooyoung grinned cheekily and Hongjoong said a loud ‘oh’, greeting you. “She’s the writer, Hongjoong. The crime fiction writer.”
“Ah,” Hongjoong nodded. “I read your book when Yunho told us who you were- ‘In the Silent Hours’? Amazing read.”
You were genuinely touched. “Thank you so much. I wish I could say something, but Yunho hasn’t told me anything about you all.”
“We know,” he laughed. “He can be like that. I hope you had a good experience visiting us, though, and if you have any concerns, you know where to come.”
You looked at Wooyoung who was smiling proudly. “I have way too many questions but I won’t ask- Yunho has a ‘no interfering in personal lives’ policy,” you said and they laughed as if that was the funniest thing Yunho could have done. “I’ll drop by with cookies some day, if you’re okay with that?”
“Sounds great!” Wooyoung clapped.
“I should really get going now and catch up with Yunho on our neighbour’s condition,” you said, excusing yourself and they enthusiastically said goodbye, making you unable to contain your smile as you made your way back to the entrance where Yunho was discussing something with a nurse-
Goodness, he looked so fucking hot in that lab coat with his hair done. You were positive his outworldly proportions were what made a boring lab coat look so attractive-
He caught you staring and when he finished talking with the nurse, he slowly made his way to you.
“Where’s grandma?” You asked. “Did you find out what’s wrong?”
“We’ve referred her to the nearest hospital and called her family- it seems to be a case of infarct and she’s lucky that she’s still walking and functioning like normal save for her eyes.”
“Oh-”
“And thanks to you bringing her so soon, we’ve managed to minimise the damage,” Yunho actually smiled this time and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. “She’s resting right now- they’ll take care of her until her family comes.”
“Thank you,” you smiled.
“Well…” Yunho checked the time and you did the same- it was almost 2 which meant he would be off soon. “It’s almost time to go home. You walked here?”
“Yeah,” you said. “I should get going then.”
When Yunho didn’t say anything, you said bye and turned to leave but then you heard the familiar voice of Wooyoung shout ‘take her home, don’t be an ass!’ and you stifled a grin, facing Yunho to assure you that you would be okay walking-
“I mean… we’re going to the same place, so… I could make an exception this time- like the other exceptions I’m making,” Yunho narrowed his eyes at you. “I will pretend today didn’t happen.”
“Oh, please, I’ll walk myself home-”
“I’m kidding,” Yunho smiled and you wondered if it was the place that made him comfortable enough to joke with you. “I would have considered dissecting you alive if you dropped by for no reason, but really, you did a good thing today. Think of it as returning the sentiment.”
“I really don’t get you,” you said, ignoring the reference he made to your last inquiry about dissections, waiting for him when he said he would get his things from his room. When he returned with his bag, helmet and without the lab coat, you followed him outside, repeating that. “I really don’t get you, Yunho. You seem like two different people in one body.”
“Perhaps, I am,” he mused. “And perhaps, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Here, wear this.”
He handed you his helmet and you took it, watching him get on his bike. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No, you can wear this, I’ll be fine-”
“Y/n,” he warned, the sudden change in his pitch sending butterflies in your stomach. “Just do as I say. Now, get on and hold on tight. I’m not slowing down for you.”
And perhaps, you should have insisted more on walking back home because he sped through the streets, making you grip his jacket tighter with each passing second, but it was so thrilling that when you reached home, you almost asked for a second round. You took off the helmet and laughed out loud, shaking your head.
“It’s not my first time riding on a bike with someone, but it’s been ages. Can I get another ride one day?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Yunho warned, helping you get off and then parking the bike in his garage. “And I hope you don’t have any questions regarding my workplace today.”
“Oh, I have many, but…” you motioned to your lips, zipping them shut and Yunho nodded in approval, unlocking the house and going inside first. You muttered ‘ass’ and went to the kitchen, heating up everything you had made today, mind still plagued with the events of today.
—-----------------------
You finished plating the steaks, satisfied at your presentation, the cheese perfectly melted on top of the fried crust. It smelled heavenly and since you now knew that Yunho was an actual food enthusiast and a surprisingly gentle and constructive critic, the simple chore of cooking became something you started looking forward to.
When you lived alone, you never made much effort to cook for yourself, but now, things were different. Your house owner was reducing your rent in exchange for home-cooked meals and you could deliver, so you waited for Yunho who would be coming downstairs any minute- he had informed you that he had to leave for work early today so you prepared accordingly, though anyone could tell you were putting more effort into the meals now.
And that was because ever since the day in Yunho’s clinic, it looked like he was finally starting to consider you more than a housemate. You couldn’t exactly call yourselves friends- the rules were still the same, but perhaps, Yunho liked that you were a person of your word. You never talked about that day in the hospital, neither did you ask him about his friends. You never asked him what happened if he came back home at an odd time or if he suddenly went out in the middle of the night. You both respected each other’s boundaries and perhaps, that was what made him start opening up to you.
It wasn’t much, no. It was the little things- him offering to help you arrange the grocery or join you when you watched netflix. He would scroll on his phone, occasionally comment on whatever you were watching and then leave. It was him actually cleaning after himself when he accidentally brought his muddy shoes inside- you gave him a thumbs-up to acknowledge his effort and even that got him flustered, which you thought was cute. And it was him actually taking interest in what you were writing instead of giving answers to the questions you asked.
When you heard his footsteps down the stairs, you pretended to be busy setting the table and he made an impressed face as he took a seat.
“This is new,” he commented, waiting for you to sit before he could dig in.
“I’ve had this recipe for a while and finally felt the urge to try it,” you told him. When he took the first bite and nodded in approval, you relaxed and began eating yourself.
“It’s been about two months. You don’t have to worry about what I think about your cooking. I’ll have it even if it doesn’t taste like something straight out of a restaurant.”
“Can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, but I like it when the other person starts first- when I cook,” you said. He understood. He always seemed to understand where you came from, which was why you both rarely ever disagreed on things.
“It’s really good,” he said. “Also, I wanted to, uh, inform you- there’s a fundraiser happening at the clinic to help the patients who can’t afford to pay their bills. If you would like to participate…”
You passed him a side-eye. “That’s not you talking, is it?”
“You’re right,” he looked guilty. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong forced me to. Something about… cookies?”
“Oh? They remember?”
“They said it’s a good opportunity to flaunt your baking skills if you’re up for it,” Yunho shook his head in thought. “I personally think it’s okay if you don’t want to bake for strangers-”
“When is it?”
“This weekend.”
“I can do it,” you said and when he looked like he was regretting asking you, you continued, “If you have some qualms about me personally attending it, I could just bake the cookies and you could take them with you.”
“No, it’s not that,” he scratched his neck. “It’s…”
“I know, and I don’t mind,” you assured him. “I agreed to your terms when I decided to move in here. I won’t interfere in your workspace if that is what you want-”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just… new for me too,” he admitted and you paused, a bit surprised to hear that. “I’ll let you know the timings-”
His gaze stuck on the kitchen counter for a few moments, prompting you to follow it and see that he was staring holes into the knife holder. You looked at Yunho again to make sure if that was what he was staring at and then his gaze went to the cabinet at the left end of the kitchen-
“Where did you get those knives?”
For a moment, you wondered if his change of tone was something you were imagining until he got up and slowly walked to the counter where the knife holder was, taking out one of the knives and examining it and then almost rushing towards the cabinet at the left end and opening it-
“I told you not to touch the locked cabinets, didn’t I?”
You would have perhaps trembled under his dark gaze if you weren’t so confused right now. “The locked cabinets, yes? But that one was unlocked?”
Yunho glared at you, knife still in his hand. “When did you check it?”
“I was looking for a knife strong enough to cut meat and I found this cabinet unlocked-”
“You used this knife to cut the meat?”
You could feel your hands get clammy by now, lower lip almost quivering and you hated how small your voice sounded when you said yes. He turned around and almost grunted in pain and you wondered just what you had done so wrong. Almost mechanically, you took another bite of your now cold steak. Yunho came back to his seat but instead of sitting, he dropped the knife on the table with a clang.
“You knew that cabinet used to be locked, didn’t you?” His loud voice shook you and you wondered what effect he would have if he shouted. “You keep breaking rules without breaking them-”
“Well it’s not my fault it was unlocked, okay?” You shouted this time, dropping your utensils on the table, frustrated. “You should have locked it properly then!”
Before he could respond, you stormed off to your room, shutting your door with a bang and he slumped down on his chair, trying to take deep breaths, trying to suppress the feeling of disgust he got when he looked at his half-eaten meal-
Because you fucking used his knife to make a meal for him.
The knife he had killed several people with.
How could he forget to lock it? He couldn’t recall not locking it, but still, how could he be so careless? How could he-
He heard a muffled sound- it was hard to miss because the house was usually very silent, but it had to be the sound of you sobbing and to his surprise, despite everything, something in his heart ached at the sound. Now that the cloud of anger was disappearing, he realised he had reacted irrationally. It was his fault for not making sure the cabinet with his murder weapons was locked. He kept them in the kitchen so it wouldn’t be suspicious if someone saw, but still, he should have hidden them well. And then what he said about you continuing to break rules when he himself invited you to the fundraiser-
Yes, Wooyoung suggested it but it was ultimately him who invited you. Yunho shook his head, disappointed in himself and wondered what to do. He came to the conclusion that for now, he needed to collect his thoughts while you sobbed. Shit, he thought. He must have scared you a lot. He had been told way too many times that he was a scary person when angry, and you did not have to see that when you spent an hour making him such a good meal.
So, disappointed and praying to the heavens above that you at least washed the knives properly before you used them, he resumed eating, almost gagging through the rest of the meal and when he was done and had one glass of cool water down his system to calm himself, he finally mustered the courage to get up, be a man and apologise to you.
The thing about you, he realised since you moved here, was that you were odd in a charming way. When he was looking for a housemate who would maintain the house and cook, he didn’t expect someone who was so dedicated to the task. You were busy too, but it looked like you had shifted your schedule to adjust to his. When he was gone to work, you slept, and when he came back, you would be waiting for him. You had added life to this house and he couldn’t believe how much his mood had changed now that the house looked like a home and he ate well.
You always gave and gave, expecting nothing in return. Perhaps, that’s just who you were. A good person, someone he could only wish to be. Someone who only wrote about horrible crimes instead of actually committing them. Someone who believed that her house owner was a respectable doctor and not a part-time serial killer as well.
That was debatable too. He had a purpose- he didn’t kill randomly. He only killed the people who deserved it. But that was a story for later- he couldn’t come into your room and tell you that reason, so what the hell was he doing standing in front of your door?
Yunho knocked gently and when you fell silent but didn’t respond, he knocked again.
“Y/n? Can I come in?”
Silence.
“Please?”
It was the gentleness in his voice that made you mutter a small yes, but only after you wiped your tears away. Truth be told, you weren’t that sensitive. You weren’t sure why you ended up throwing a tantrum and crying tonight but you figured it was long due now. You just wished you could explain to him without becoming a mess again-
And then he opened the door, looking worriedly at you. Worriedly, with his brows scrunched and actions hesitant and you found your vision getting blurry with tears again.
Dammit.
You looked away but from the corner of your eye you saw him look around the room once before hesitantly walking to where you were- on the floor, back resting against the bed. To your surprise, he sank down next to you, mirroring your position.
“I don’t know how to say it, but I’m sorry,” he almost whispered. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It’s my fault.”
A fresh stream of tears left your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was because of what happened earlier or what he said now. He couldn’t simply come inside your room and apologise and act like it wouldn’t affect you.
“Will you look at me?”
You wiped your tears and turned to face him, hesitating to meet his eyes. He understood. He shifted a bit towards you. “No explanation will make it better, and I’m ashamed that I reacted this way when it’s my fault that I left that cabinet unlocked. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you when you do so much for me without asking.”
“Yes,” your voice was quivering as much as your lips. “It’s your fault. I mean… I won’t ask but they are just knives, Yunho.”
And then you were crying again at the absurdity of it all and Yunho decided to take responsibility. He patted your head awkwardly and when you buried your head between your knees, he drew closer and wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he attempted to sound sincere- he was, but you didn’t need to know that he was also stifling grins. “I scared you, right?”
“You did!” You cried. “Do you know how awful you look when you’re angry? And holding that knife? I thought you were going to stab me, Yunho.”
And this time, Yunho laughed heartily, making you laugh as well and push him away. He put a hand on the side of your face to cup it, still laughing as he said, “Please. Who would cook for me if I killed you?”
“I don’t know,” you pouted. “You have a lot of friends. Maybe one of them could cook for you.”
Yunho smiled at that, wiping your tears away and you suddenly felt conscious of the position you two were in, though he didn’t seem to realise it yet- or he was ignoring it, for once. “Sorry for almost yelling at you. And sorry for saying everything that I did.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, scanning his features now that you were looking at him up close for the first time. You noticed how warm his eyes could look, how soft his features actually were. He looked perfect, and if it weren’t for all the rules that would cost you a living space, you would have crossed a lot of boundaries by now. “I’m sure you had your reasons- and I should have asked when I found the cabinet unlocked.”
“But that doesn’t justify my behaviour one bit,” he shook his head. “Now, will you come out and finish your dinner?”
“But-”
“I have finished mine,” he told you. “And now you should too. I’ll go heat it up.”
With a pat to your cheek, he left the room, leaving you wrapped in his clean and manly scent. You sighed deeply, avoiding the mirror but wiping your face before taking a seat back at the table. You watched him set the table for you.
“You should go now,” you said. “You had to leave early. I’ve probably held you back a lot, I’m sorry-”
“I’ll go when you finish eating,” he insisted and you shot him a glare before picking up your fork.
“Just so you know,” you said as you took a bite, Yunho watching you earnestly. “I don’t usually become a crying mess like I just did. I’m stronger than that.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I am,” you glared at him again. “But I have my limit too. And today was all the pent up emotions from the previous two months.”
“All because of me, huh?”
“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” you teased. “I have other things to worry about too.”
“Of course you do,” he smiled.
“Yep. Like deadlines. And chores.”
“I hope the fundraiser won’t conflict with your deadline?”
“It won’t,” you told him. “You’re assuming I’ll attend.”
“I’ll make sure you do,” he said as you finished eating the last bite. “Because I’m the one who’s inviting you.”
Perhaps, this was another step towards a relationship more meaningful than housemates. Perhaps…
He was finally starting to consider you a friend.
—-------------------------------
Sometimes, Yunho wondered if it was a good decision to have you as his housemate.
It wasn’t that you were doing anything wrong, no. You were perfect. Goodness, you were perfect and he both loved and hated that. He had no idea how he got lucky with you- and he was not thinking about the fact that he got to have delicious meals at home or his place looked maintained.
It was about the things he could talk to you about, and hell, he didn’t even talk to you much. You probably had no idea how much he enjoyed your little questions about what was the most painful way to die or how you would kill someone in a certain context- it was the only time, perhaps, that he could be himself. He had spent a long time being convinced by his friends that he was not a bad person inside, and perhaps, they were right. But if they were…
Why did he enjoy talking to you about this stuff so much? Was it because these secrets were a burden to him, even though his friends knew? He never told them the details so perhaps, talking about killing people and hurting them in detail with you helped him in some twisted, cathartic way. Whatever it was, he was certain that he was getting addicted to watching you get impressed by his knowledge about such things he claimed was from years of his surgery practice, and he was also ashamedly addicted about how unhinged you sounded when you talked about the criminals in your fiction.
He was positive you couldn’t be an undercover-something. You couldn’t even hurt a fly, let alone a human. But the way you got excited when you talked in detail about a certain type of wound or method of torture… he often found himself zoning out and simply staring at you while you talked. Perhaps, he was the unhinged one, but he found you so attractive when you talked about what you loved writing about, and he was very close to asking you about what made you write such gory crime fiction novels. He would be breaking his own rule of not interfering in each other’s personal lives, but all rules be damned- he had to know what drove you to write all of this.
He was also pretty sure you weren’t as naive as you looked and probably found his habits weird. There was no way he could look redeemable after the knife incident. While you were gone the next day, he personally sanitised all of them because he was sure you were going to keep using those knives. He figured it turned out to be okay in the end- he had to change his murder weapons and method soon anyway. The police were starting to connect a few dots and he was sure they would come with a search warrant any day.
But perhaps, it was a good decision to have you in this house. If the police ever came, you could help with Yunho’s image. He felt guilty for using you for that purpose now that he was almost starting to care about you despite his principles but… in the end, it was all turning out to be good. All was well.
A bit too well, if he had to say, as he watched you get a little too chummy with Mingi and Wooyoung. You had done a good job at the fundraiser, having baked dozens of cookies and with some strange ribbon packaging you claimed was cute. He took care of the stall but you still brought a lot of decoration from the house to give it a personal touch, and not only the visitors but the staff were also impressed by your skills. Now that the event was done and you were wrapping up everything, Mingi and Wooyoung had casually joined you to help and to praise your work. Yunho didn’t miss the subtle glances they threw in his direction as if to tease him, and what could he say?
It was working.
“Are you gonna keep watching her like she’s your next target or are you going to make a move?”
Yunho shut his eyes in mild annoyance before looking to his right where Seonghwa stood with his trademark smile, nodding at the visitors who greeted him before they left. If anyone knew that behind the kind smile of the paeds doctor was one of the masterminds of their team that essentially rooted out the evil from the society…
“I’d rather watch. I know Mingi or Wooyoung will say something stupid if I approach them now.”
Seonghwa chuckled at that. “She’s done a good job today. She’s extraordinary, Yunho.”
Yunho narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you two were discussing her novel when you took a break in the cafe.”
“You know what I think?” Seonghwa almost whispered as if letting him in on a secret. “If she was a part of our team, we could actually succeed in working with the police.”
“How?”
“Think about it,” he bowed at one of the elders who passed by. “Imagine her next work is about what we do. Crime fiction to others, but something the police could use to clean up our mess, yeah?”
Once again, Yunho was in awe of the way Seonghwa’s mind worked. “The police would use that to arrest us.”
“Or they would turn a blind eye and let us do their dirty work. Two sides of the coin,” Seonghwa patted Yunho’s back and left to join Hongjoong and Yunho considered what he had said. When he saw Mingi pick something out of your hair, though, he decided he’d had enough.
“Ah, you’re here,” Wooyoung had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Y/n, now is your time to tell us if you’d like to change your houseowner.”
“Nah, I’m good,” you grinned, meeting Yunho’s eyes who looked pleased to hear that. “This one is good at pretending I don’t exist so sometimes I feel like I own the house myself.”
Mingi laughed loudly at that and Yunho smiled in embarrassment. He was guilty, yes. When you noticed his ears getting red, you laughed. “I’m just kidding. I really couldn’t have a better person as a housemate.”
“You’re lying,” Wooyoung smacked your arm playfully and you put the last of the things in your duffel bag.
“You won’t understand,” you simply told Wooyoung and chanced a glance at Yunho who no longer looked embarrassed and offered to take your bag. You let him and said your goodbyes to the two, waving at the rest of the staff who told you to come again (with baked treats) and you followed Yunho to the parking lot. This time, you had made sure he had a spare helmet and when he noticed you grinning, he asked you what was so funny.
“Nothing, I’m just excited to ride your bike again,” you giggled like a kid. “I kind of have a thing for bikes.”
And there it was. Another reason Yunho felt his heart pound rather uncharacteristically.
Perhaps, that was what prompted him to break one of his biggest rules and ask, “Would you like to have dinner somewhere… with me? You must be too tired to make dinner at home, and I know a quiet spot if you’re up for it- if not… that’s okay too, we could order something instead-”
He paused when he noticed your smile growing and he raised a brow in question. You wanted to tell him that he was rambling (which was cute as hell) but you only nodded. “I’d love to. You’re right, I’m tired- and a quiet spot sounds nice at this hour. I won’t say no to a longer bike ride too.”
Yunho chuckled at that as he put on his helmet. You followed and got on the bike behind him. “It’s not gonna be a short trip if you’re okay.”
“I’m good!” You assured and he told you to hang on tight as he started the heavy bike and started driving towards the darkening horizon. You put your hands on Yunho’s shoulders but as he sped on the emptier roads, you resorted to clutching the sides of his jacket and rested your head on his back, watching the view. You loved how quiet it got in your head at times like these and it almost made you wish this moment would never end.
You didn’t know how much time passed but finally, Yunho started slowing down and you looked up, finding yourself at the riverside. When he parked in an empty space, he got down first and helped you down. You took off your helmet and smoothened your hair, looking around. It seemed to be a remote spot that the tourists had not yet discovered and the pretty lightning bordering the sidewalk illuminated the benches at the distance and-
“Fried chicken!” You grinned. “I didn’t know what I was craving until I smelt it.”
Yunho smiled, motioning you to follow him. He led you inside where you placed your orders and you both decided to take one of the tables outside. There weren’t many people here anyway so you were going to enjoy the cool river breeze.
Now that you sat in front of him, it finally settled in that you were outside with Yunho for the first time. That he offered to take you out for dinner. It didn’t help that he looked absolutely dreamy with his dark hair falling messily on his forehead and his shoulder looking even broader in the black jacket he wore, and when he ran a hand through his hair, swiping it away from his forehead-
He met your eyes and you realised you had been staring. You awkwardly sipped your water and looked towards your left, urging yourself to focus on the sound of the waves instead of the sound of your erratic heartbeat. You cleared your throat. “How did you find this spot? It’s beautiful.”
“I used to live near here when I was little,” he smiled and you thought there was something sad about it.
“Oh, your parents must still live around here then?” You wondered and when his smile fell, you knew you had asked a question you shouldn’t have.
But to your surprise, he answered, “They passed away when I was in highschool. I had to move out soon, so I couldn’t come back here for a good few years.”
“Oh, I’m… sorry to hear that,” you said and he told you it was okay. “I can tell why this place is close to your heart though. It’s wonderful here.”
“Yeah, it is,” he said and you were glad your chicken arrived at that moment, breaking the awkwardness from your conversation. “How did today go? You’re quite popular at the clinic now.”
You grinned, “Nobody can resist chocolate chip cookies, apparently. Wooyoung said I helped raise a lot of money.”
“You did,” Yunho confirmed and you both took a bite of the chicken. You groaned in appreciation.
“I don’t know if it's the river or the vibe,” you said after swallowing the first bite. “But doesn’t the chicken taste so good here?”
“There’s a reason I brought you here,” he laughed at the way you stared at the chicken. “Good food and a killer view.”
It took you both a few pieces to get comfortable and this time, when you asked him about the clinic and all his friends, he answered all your questions. You learned that Yunho and Mingi were school friends and Yunho met Hongjoong at the end of highschool. Their group expanded over the years and today, after years of studying and working together, they had their own place.
Yunho also asked you about your recent progress and you complained about your publishers. He then asked where you were originally from and he learned that you were from a small town at the outskirts of the city and had a younger brother but your relationship with your family was a bit strained so you didn’t visit them often. He also found that you didn’t have many friends, just a few you met annually. He realised then why it was so easy for you to get comfortable with Wooyoung and Mingi- perhaps, they reminded you of your friends, or maybe you missed normal human interaction.
As you finished eating, you asked him what urged him to really bring you here tonight. Yunho looked at you as if to make you reconsider your question but when you held your front, he finally gave in. “Just wanted to say thanks.”
“For what?”
“For everything,” he shrugged. “You do a lot. I haven’t done anything in return.”
“Uh, forty percent off?”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Just accept the sentiment and shut up.”
“Yes sir,” you saluted and he paid the bill, insisting it was his treat even though you asked to split the bill. “Well, if you won’t let me pay, maybe we can walk a little before we go?”
“That makes no sense, but okay,” Yunho said, shaking his head in amusement and you took the lead, going towards the edge to peek down at the river and then you started your stroll.
“Isn’t it nice to get some fresh air?” You commented, taking a deep breath. “No worries, just the river and us.”
Yunho nodded silently and you grinned. “If you have more spots like these… don’t hide them from me.”
“Just this one,” he admitted and you nodded, satisfied. “What about you? Do you have a spot like this?”
You had… until everything went horribly wrong. You had a place so close to your heart that you hadn’t visited in years-
“You okay?” Yunho asked worriedly, having noticed your smile drop.
“Uh, yeah,” you pursed your lips. “I had one. I don’t go there anymore- bad memories.”
“Ah… sorry I asked-”
“It’s okay,” you assured. “If I grow the guts one day… I’ll take you there.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Just shut up and accept the offer,” you winked at him and he grinned at your statement. You noticed you had already walked around the area, the parking lot in your vision now. Before you could walk towards it, Yunho called your name, making you pause in your tracks.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure?”
“Did you mean it when you said… earlier at the clinic…” Yunho put his hands in his pockets awkwardly, trying to phrase it better. “When you-”
“When I said you were a good housemate?” You asked, internally smiling because you just knew he would end up asking you to elaborate. “I meant it.”
“Why? I have been anything but nice.”
“That’s a lie,” you pointed out. “Just because you have a few rules you’re strict about doesn’t mean you’re not nice company when you’re in a good mood. And you answer all my weird questions without judgement!” You clapped your hands. “What more could I ask for?”
When you saw that he didn’t look convinced, you took a deep breath. “To be honest, my life was falling apart before I moved in with you. Everything started going wrong at the same time. It was too much and I really thought I would have to go back to my hometown- and I would go anywhere but there. So when we made a deal? Yes, I thought you were strange at first but I couldn’t complain, and now that we’ve… warmed up to each other a bit, you’re not bad company at all, Yunho. You may still be an asshole about your rules,” you laughed and he joined, the corners of his lips curving downwards- was he flustered? “But I can see why the people at the clinic like you. You’re quite dependable.”
“That’s…”
“Too much?” You laughed. “In short, you gave me a nice deal and my life is finally back to normal, and you’re a good person, you idiot. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I think you’re getting a little too comfortable with me though…”
“Yeah?” You walked towards the bike. “Says the guy who basically took me on a date.”
And there it was again- the flustered smile of his that was so endearing, the ears turning red and the nervous laugh as he wondered what to do, where to look. You laughed out loud, finding it quite funny.
“You’re a very easy prey, Dr. Jeong,” you teased. “Quite easy to get to.”
“Did you really think of this as a date?” He held his helmet, waiting for your answer and you thought about it.
“Platonic date?” You wondered. “Outing? Icebreaking party? Whatever you wanna name it…”
You faltered when he stepped closer and looked down at you, scanning your face. Suddenly, you were so conscious of the proximity between you two. The dim lights made his gaze look darker and you wished you could take a peak in his mind. He brought his hand up and tucked your hair behind your ear ever so gently, lightly caressing your cheek-
And then he poked you in the middle of the forehead, making you wince out loud.
“I’m still the grumpy mysterious owner,” he quoted what you had said to Wooyoung today and you gaped at him, wondering if he had heard the entirety of the conversation. “So don’t get too ahead of yourself, okay?”
You rubbed your forehead, muttering okay and complaining about how he could have just said so. But when you wore your helmet and settled down behind him, clutching at the sides of his jacket, he held your hands in his and you couldn’t even digest how his big hands engulfed your small ones before he wrapped your arms around his waist.
“It’s better this way- I’m speeding,” he said.
“I really don’t get you, Yunho,” you told him and he cast you a glance before starting to drive, speeding as promised. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t have cared if you held on to the sides of his jacket like earlier or his shoulders for dear life but…
But you wouldn’t complain. So you rested your head against his back again, bodies flush against each other and you let yourself feel whatever you were feeling for the ride back home.
—----------------------------
It was a good day today- somewhat productive because you were almost done writing your book and the editor was pleased with your work too. Yunho was having dinner with his colleagues tonight so you decided not to cook and just have the leftovers from yesterday for dinner then and went to your room to finally sort out the mess you had been avoiding ever since you moved in-
The books.
While you had lined all your books along the walls, creating towers of them that you were scared would one day fall on you if you ever made a clumsy mistake, you had realised that perhaps it was time you let go of some of the books. You could already feel your heart being broken at the thought but your room was starting to look too congested compared to the rest of the spacious house so you would have to make a little sacrifice.
So you spent hours sorting through the books and almost didn’t hear Yunho coming downstairs until he knocked on your room, eyes widening at the books around you.
“Yeah, I know I’m a mess,” you said. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, laughing in what seemed to be shock. “Do you need… help?”
“No, I’m just sorting them out,” you dismissed, though surprised at the offer. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Yunho was still lingering at the doorway. “Well, I don’t know when I’ll be back, so…”
“Have fun,” you looked at him, grinning. “I’ll be fine. This is something I do annually.”
“If you say so. Don’t get lost in there,” he teased and you rolled your eyes, shooing him away.
And that was that. You didn’t even realise how much time passed- you kept getting distracted as you held each book in hand and recalled the memories associated with it. It was only when the doorbell rang that you frowned, checking the clock. It was 09:47 pm- who could it be? Not Yunho- he had his keys. Maybe the woman from next door?
But when you opened the door to two grown men with badges around their necks, you did a quick scan, realising two things- that they were detectives, and one of the faces was way too familiar.
“Good evening, miss,” the younger one said. “We’re Detectives Lee and Seo from the station-”
“Y/n?” The older one- the familiar face called your name and suddenly, it clicked-
It clicked. Everything you had buried deep inside you, somewhere so deep that you hadn’t thought about it in perhaps a year, was suddenly out and washing over you like a wave of cold water. Everything from about two decades ago started flashing in front of your eyes and you gulped down the thing stuck in your throat with immense effort.
“Detective Seo?” Your voice sounded small even to your ears.
“It’s been a while,” he looked as confused as you. “I didn’t expect to see you here- doesn’t this house belong to a Doctor Jeong Yunho?”
“You’re right,” you told him. “I live on the first floor on rent.”
“I see… Can we come in then?”
“If you’re here to meet Dr. Jeong, he’s not home right now-”
“We can wait,” he told you. “Besides… it’s been a while- won’t you invite us for tea?”
“You can’t just visit so late at night and expect tea,” you folded your arms, finally getting a grip. “What is the purpose of your visit, really?”
“We really needed a statement, or anything from the doctor,” Detective Seo said. “Let us wait for him for half an hour, and then we’ll leave.”
You considered kicking them out but then figured they could wait. Yunho would probably be late and they would have to go back after half an hour without anything. Plus, it didn’t look like Detective Seo was about to budge anytime soon. The other detective also looked intrigued and you gave in, allowing them to the living room though just like two decades ago, Detective Seo made a point of roaming around-
“That your room?” He pointed at the mess of books and you stifled the urge to pass a biting remark.
“Yes, I was a little busy as you can probably see. Please, take a seat.”
While you asked Detective Lee if he would like some tea, you kept an eye on the older detective who was now looking around the living room. You turned on the kettle- there was no way you were going to serve them the fancier teas you had. They would have to make do with teabags.
“How long since you moved here?”
“Is that related to your current investigation?” You asked and he scoffed.
“Come on, y/n. Don’t act like we’re strangers here. Are you still in contact with your family?”
And there it was.
“Not really,” you simply said. “I moved out for college and only visit annually.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
Your mother. Your brother. The people who destroyed you.
“She’s okay, probably,” you said. Your voice was already starting to crack, and that was not a good sign. The kettle turned off and you poured the boiling water carefully into the cups, wondering if Yunho returning early would make things better or worse.
“I moved here around that time too,” he said, taking the cup from you with thanks and after giving the other to Detective Lee, you went to stand near the kitchen, folding your arms again. “I visit a lot though. I heard your brother got into a good college.”
“Yeah, well,” you pursed your lips. “I suppose he did.”
“Do you still blame yourself for what happened back then?”
You pretended to not hear that question and asked the detective to take a seat. It was getting annoying now that he walked casually towards the kitchen, scanning the notes stuck on the fridge- Yunho’s “eat your dinner pls” that you only noticed now, your to-do list and grocery list, and the silly magnets. He made a face and placed his empty cup on the sink-
And then he spotted the knife holder.
“That’s a lot of knives,” he commented.
“I cook. A lot,” you said, wishing you had made that teabag tea for yourself too- anything to keep you from squirming. The detective looked at you suspiciously before taking his hand out of his pocket-
“Do not touch my knives, Detective,” you glared at him. “Can you please get out of the kitchen and wait in the living room?”
“I’m just looking,” he dismissed you and to your annoyance, took out one of the knives to examine, and then the other, then the other-
“I said, do not touch my knives.”
Yunho, who was standing outside the house near the kitchen window that was slightly ajar so he could hear everything, felt his heart swell in pride and admiration- he had never heard you state anything as strongly before. He contained in his sigh of relief, wondering if now was the right time to barge in.
Truth be told, he had spotted their car as soon as he entered the street and at first he thought that you had broken one of the rules and invited someone but upon a closer look, he realised with dread that the car belonged to the detectives who had just recently connected one of the cases with his clinic. He parked his bike in the garage and when he heard voices from the kitchen window, he went to eavesdrop and realised that they had just entered.
“No need to get so angry over some kitchen knives,” Detective Seo’s voice was stern. “What do you need so many for anyway? Are they yours?”
“I’m the only one who can cook,” you were seething now. “And what’s it to you?”
“Well, this one looks oddly familiar.”
“Yeah? It’s for cutting vegetables, Detective. I bet your wife owns it too- if you have one. That one’s for dicing, the one on top for fish because I feel like it remains stinky so it’s only for fish. You have a problem with that?”
Yunho stifled a smile- you were rambling now. He wondered why you didn’t simply tell them that they were his knives originally. He was positive the detectives would be connecting the dots right away and going back for an arrest warrant-
“Well, you see,” Detective Seo picked the longest knife out. “This one?”
“For meat,” you muttered.
“This one matches the murder weapon in the case we’re investigating,” he looked at you. “12 inches, dull but sharpened far too many times.”
“Yeah?” You scoffed. “So someone’s committed murder with a kitchen knife? They’re a genius.”
“How so?”
“Who doesn’t own a kitchen knife?” You almost cried. “They’re probably making a fool out of you, go back to your home and look in your kitchen. You probably have a 12 inch dull meat knife too.”
“How would you know?” Detective Lee asked this time. “That they’re making a fool out of us?”
“Why else would they use such an inconvenient weapon? Either for the thrill, or to make a fool out of you. Or both. Just… put the knife back, okay?”
“You’ve always been an odd one, and you always knew way too much,” Detective Seo put the knife back but narrowed his eyes at you. “Where were you on the 17th around midnight?”
“Around midnight, every day of every year for the past few years, I’ve been home. And I hope you go raiding everyone’s kitchen now that you know what your murder weapon looks like. Also, why are you even here? To investigate me? Again?”
“We came for Dr. Jeong-”
“You think he goes around committing murder only to operate on them later in his clinic? He’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake,” you shut your eyes, feeling a burning sensation in both your throat and eyes. “Please, leave. You can meet Dr. Jeong elsewhere- I’ll ask him to contact you.”
“And why are you getting so jittery?” Detective Seo asked. “Is there something you’re hiding again? Someone you’re protecting again? Or are you just protecting yourself-”
Yunho couldn’t take it anymore- he’d heard enough, and the whimper that left you made his vision dark for a moment. Rushing to the front door, he unlocked it and entered, shutting it a bit loudly to prove a point-
And saw you standing in the middle of the room, curling in on yourself, eyes weary. If hearing you sound like that wasn’t enough, having to look at you in this state was worse and he wished he had acted earlier. He didn’t know what took over him but he rushed to you and wrapped you in his arms-
And when you buried your face in his chest, relaxing instantly in his grasp, red hot anger ran through his veins as he assessed the detectives who stood awkwardly around him.
“How dare you make my girl cry?” He almost growled, wrapping his arms tighter, almost possessively around you. “What are you doing here?”
Detective Seo shook his head in disbelief and Detective Lee took the lead. “We came to talk to you about a few things- it’s very hard to reach you-”
“So you come barging into my house and bombard someone unrelated with questions and make her cry?” Yunho scoffed. “A phone call? Summoning me to the station? Or at least a search warrant, which I bet you don’t have, just like before. Shall I report you for misconduct?”
“Come on, don’t be like that,” Detective Seo finally butted in. “Y/n and I were just catching up- we’re actually acquaintances-”
You shook your head in Yunho’s grasp to let him know that you did not want to be a part of this ‘catching up’ and Yunho patted your back.
“She says otherwise,” Yunho caressed your hair. “I don’t care if you’ve met before. You’re clearly unwanted. Please, leave. You have my number, you can contact me later, but do not make the mistake of coming here again. And do not try to make contact with her again.”
Shrugging, the detectives left, Detective Lee muttering a silent apology on behalf of them both. When you heard the doors sound shut, you tried getting out of Yunho’s grasp to let him know he didn’t need to do that anymore-
But he only deepened the hug, leaning down this time to hold you better and you sighed at that. He rocked you gently back and forth, all the while caressing your head gently as if he meant to lull you to some calm space- and oh, was he successful. You were no longer crying.
Hesitantly, he broke away a bit to see if you were okay. Your eyes fluttered open, a bit red from crying and he cupped your face, wiping your tears.
“Why did you let them in, y/n?”
“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-”
“No, it’s okay,” he assured you. “Did they force themselves inside?”
“Not really, but they were insisting on coming inside and waiting,” you sniffed. “Detective Seo- the older one… he knows me from when I was a kid and he started to get a bit too comfortable-”
“I know,” he told you and when you frowned in confusion, he said, “I actually heard a bit of it while I was parking.”
“A bit?”
“Most of it,” he admitted, breaking into a smile. “You did not have to defend my kitchen knives with all your might, y/n.”
You chuckled at that. “I don’t know, I got so angry! He kept walking around and it was annoying me so much- I thought giving him tea would make him sit, but no, he had to walk around with a cup in his hand-”
Yunho shook with laughter, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re too adorable at times.”
“And… I can’t believe I’m hearing the word adorable come out of your mouth,” you looked at him in disbelief. “Who are you? And where is Dr. Jeong?”
“It’s just Yunho,” he smiled and you smiled back, spending a moment just looking at him and realising that you were still way too close, in his arms, your heart fluttering uncontrollably.
“Well… just Yunho,” you said, your hands on his waist feeling clammy. “Thank you for coming at the right time. And thank you for… what you did.”
Yunho took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”
You pursed your lips, looking away. You could not answer that, because even if you lied to him, you would break down anyway. Detective Seo had opened the dam of unwanted, ugly memories and you were definitely not okay. You wouldn’t be for a while now-
But it looked like Yunho had made it his life’s mission to make sure you would feel okay. He brought you back in a hug and this time, you didn’t cry. You simply wrapped your arms around his waist better and listened to the sound of his heartbeat which somehow calmed you. To your surprise, he planted a kiss on the top of your head before he squeezed you in assurance.
You broke away to look at him. “What’s got you so… clingy and fluffy all of a sudden? Not that I don’t like it, but…”
Yunho tucked your hair away from your face, kissing your forehead this time and pretending he hadn’t heard that. It wasn’t the first time he got a closer look at you yet he committed everything to memory as if it was his first time seeing you. He couldn’t answer your question either, because…
He was pretty sure he had fallen for you a little when he heard you earlier. The way you never let the detectives think about him for even a second when you were being cornered with the knives- he was absolutely sure that you had not done that unintentionally. Sure, he had initially thought that if he ever got in trouble with the police, you could make a good cover, but now you had protected him on purpose. He would ask you about that, but first…
“Did you eat dinner?”
“Uh… no. I forgot.”
Yunho shook his head in disappointment. “I go away for one meal and you forget to eat.”
You pouted and he led you to the chair, making you sit. He poured a glass of water for you and after you drank it, he asked if you made something today. You told him you didn’t cook today and he sighed.
“So you only cook for me?”
“I like cooking… and I like cooking for you,” you pouted again, feeling exposed.
“But not cooking for yourself?” Yunho asked, making you look at him. “Why won’t you cook for yourself?”
You shrugged. You didn’t have an answer for that.
“Well, I’m not a good cook, but I’ll see what I can do…” he got up and you told him he did not have to, that what he did for you tonight was enough, but he told you to shut up and opened the fridge, taking out the kimchi and then looking through the cabinets-
“Ramyeon sounds good? That’s one thing I can cook well,” he grinned.
You nodded, getting comfortable and watching him roll his sleeves before he washed his hands in the sink, drying them with the blue bunny towel and then you stopped noticing what he was doing and instead noticed the veins on his arms, the faded scar near the elbow that probably ran up his upper arm, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck-
And those beautiful, beautiful hands that were now setting the pot on the table. You blinked, coming back to reality, and thanked him for the meal. He watched you eat for a few moments before he said, “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did today. It’s my fault.”
“Yunho,” you sighed, “It’s not.”
“It is,” he shook his head. “The detectives seemed to have created some ambiguous connection between me and their recent murder case. The victim used to be my patient, so they’ve been trying to visit me for a while but I kept putting it off- I really don’t like when they visit my workplace-”
“Of course,” you nodded. “No one would like that. You don’t have to explain it to me, Yunho. You don’t have to tell me anything-”
“Forget the rules,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I want to explain because you can’t just put yourself between me and the detectives. How could you try to protect me without knowing what’s going on? And don’t try to deny that you weren’t doing exactly that.”
You took a bite and thought about it while you chewed. Once you swallowed, you answered. “I’ve known Detective Seo for twenty years. I’ve known you for what? Four months? Five? Guess who I trust more out of the two.”
Yunho looked away, somewhat in disbelief but again, overwhelmed by the way his heart was fluttering and his stomach was in knots. “Even when I’ve given you nothing?”
“It’s enough- I don’t need to hear your life story to trust you,” you finished eating the noodles. “I know who you are, and that’s enough.”
Yunho sighed internally- Wooyoung had warned him of this. He had practically manifested it. He had told Yunho that the way he talked about you and the way he treated you were very different and he needed to start manning up and ignoring whatever he was feeling inside. That had been in the earlier months. And now?
You claimed you knew him. What did you know, really? The person who set strict rules and got angry when he thought you broke one of them and made you cry? The doctor who got angry at you for bringing a patient to his clinic and later thanking you because you saved her from something worse? The person who took you to the place he loved yet told you nothing about it? What did you really know-
“I know you,” you began and Yunho wondered if he had said those thoughts out loud. “You’re the person who I thought was an asshole but I trusted because you… you have the kindest eyes. Even when you almost stabbed me to death-”
“That’s on you overthinking-”
“Yeah, I’m joking,” you laughed. “But… you get what I mean. I don’t need to know who you were, I know who you are. The doctor who’s too busy to take care of himself and his space. The person who’s everyone’s favourite at the clinic. The house owner who’s actually quite funny but takes a while to open up. The friend who helps me with my work in so many more ways than he realises. And… the man who is surprisingly protective and caring.”
Yunho buried his face in his hands- he couldn’t look at you now. He couldn’t-
“I don’t know why you keep holding yourself back, but can I ask what prompted you to do whatever you did earlier? You didn’t have to hug me like that,” you drank the rest of the water in the glass, waiting but he didn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to call me ‘your girl’ and shoo them away. You can’t just do things like that and expect me to remain normal and pretend it didn’t happen the next day- because I’ve had enough too. I’ve had enough of you staring at me like I’m either someone you want to kill or someone you want to… do things to. Also, while we’re talking about that- and yes, I’m rambing, but you really need to stop touching me so casually- I hope you have a rule about that somewhere too-”
Yunho finally removed his hands from his face and locked eyes with you. When you didn’t look away, wondering if you were going to regret this, he got up, making your heart sink thinking you really had made an awful mistake this time-
And then he leaned down towards you and to your utter surprise, he pecked your lips gently- once, twice. And then he pulled away to lock eyes with your wide ones.
“Can I take responsibility then? For my actions?”
When you nodded without realising that you had, he smiled, going around the table and sinking down to his knees. For you. You found your hands moving of their own accord, cupping his face with almost trembling hands for the first time and running a hand through his hair, finding them softer than you had imagined. You laughed in disbelief and knelt down to kiss his forehead- you didn’t have to kneel down much thanks to him being so tall. You joined your foreheads and just let that moment sink in, waiting for him to do something but it was as if he had completely submitted himself to you.
“Yunho,” you breathed, “Won’t you kiss me?”
All Yunho wanted was to obey. He tilted his head, your lips brushing and then he brought his hands to your bare knees, sending shivers through your entire being. While he caressed the skin, he pecked your lips cautiously and you almost cried at how hesitant he was. You took it upon yourself to lock your lips with his and that was all he needed to kiss you back, immediately taking lead and kissing you almost desperately as if he had waited a lifetime for this moment. You moved your lips along his, settling in a comfortable rhythm and you realised you quite liked the position-
But Yunho had other plans. He broke apart, gripping your legs in one arm and getting up, making you latch on to him with a squeal which earned a laugh from him as he settled you on the empty kitchen counter, now able to meet your eyes better. He stared at you intently for a few moments, his arms caging you between them and brought your arms to rest on his shoulders, linking them around his neck.
“I’d say something about how it took you way too long,” you kissed the tip of his nose. “But I’m afraid you’ll think I’ve always fantasised about this and leave me here and go in your cave.”
“Never again,” he promised, capturing your lips in a slow and gentle kiss. You had all the time in the world now and a morbid part of your mind wanted to thank Detective Seo for paying a visit tonight even though you despised him. Yunho swiped his tongue across your lips and you gladly opened up for him, the kiss getting heated as his tongue explored your mouth, clashing with your tongue. You couldn’t help but marvel how you both fit with each other so well.
You didn’t know how long you made out like that. Neither did you care, but naturally, you both broke apart and shared a giggle. He opened his arms for you and you gladly hugged him- his hugs were probably your most favourite thing about life now. He laughed at how you wrapped yourself around him like a cat so that he didn’t even have to hold you, simply wrap his arms around your back as he walked to the living room but you muttered ‘my room’ and he obeyed, walking in that direction-
And halting.
“What do you want me to do? Throw you in the pool of books and make out? Might hurt a little…”
“Oh, goodness,” you twisted in his arms to see the mess that your room was in right now. “I was sorting out books because I really have no space anymore and I was going to give away some tonight-”
“But you could put them in the living room? The shelves have some space?”
You hadn’t even considered that. You looked at him. “Can I use that space?”
“I mean… you’ve taken over the whole floor anyway,” he shrugged. “What harm a few books are gonna do?”
You smacked his arm and he laughed, putting you down on the floor. “Well, I should clean my mess then. Don’t want you complaining about how unruly your housemate is.”
“I’ll help,” he insisted and you scoffed.
“There’s no space for you to set a foot-”
“Then make some.”
“Oh?” You shot him a dirty look. “No plans to leave?”
“Do you want me to leave?” He asked cockily and you shook your head, immediately shoving a few books away and making space on the rug where he settled down and pulled you down in his lap, snuggling his face in your neck.
“Tell me about these books,” he muttered, his breath caressing your neck and before you could comment on the position, he kissed your neck lazily.
Well… perhaps it was better to shut up and obey.
“They are a part of me,” you smiled, picking the nearest one and reading the title while he continued kissing and sucking at your neck. “This one I read recently. I think you’ll like it- it’s about doctors- ah.”
Yunho smiled against your neck when you squirmed in his grasp. He had been teasing your sweet spot for far too long now and finally got to hear your pretty moan. “Really? What’s it about?”
“Doctors,” you muttered, tilting your neck and he dived back in. “And the problems they face, the power dynamics- Jeong Yunho, I swear to god-”
Yunho laughed deeply against your skin, drawing away to observe the reddening spot. You tried shifting in his grasp but he held you in your position. “Tell me about another book.”
“Yeah?” You scoffed when he started peppering kisses along your shoulders. “What if I just smack you on the head with one?”
“Tsk, tsk. Already?”
You shifted in his lap successfully this time and before you could yell at him, he was kissing you on the lips again and as you melted in his hold, you tossed the book in your hand away to cup his face.
Sorting the books and cleaning the mess could definitely wait.
—-----------------------------
Though you and Yunho had crossed some obvious boundaries now, you were unsure how that would affect the rules of living in his house. You weren’t only his housemate now, so perhaps, the rules could change?
You started wondering about that after a few days. You hadn’t made anything official yet- he was still working a lot and barely had any time for himself but whenever he got home, he would find you and wrap you in his arms while he asked you about your day. When you asked him the same, he would simply smile and say something like ‘just the usual’ or ‘busy day today’.
Nothing more. He probably recognised the look in your eyes- the look that said that you wanted more. Perhaps he ignored it on purpose. Perhaps, whenever he kissed you after, it was to make up for the lack of an answer.
If you thought about it objectively… you didn’t really mind. Work is work- what could doctors really share about their work? But you knew he wasn’t simply going to work, especially when he sometimes came home looking like he had been running for miles or with blood on his clothes. Surely, doctors wore a gown or something while operating or handling patients. His lab coat never had blood on it, so why would he have blood on his clothes and why would he sometimes look like he got in a fight? He could definitely feel your apprehension even though you pretended to be okay about it.
Perhaps, he liked you because you didn’t ask. That didn’t mean you weren’t curious- now more so than ever. It wasn’t like being whatever you were to him now gave you any right to probe, but you couldn’t help pay a visit to his clinic tonight and see if he was really working a night shift- he had gone out in a rush earlier muttering something about an emergency. You only went to make sure he was okay, was what you told yourself-
It was certainly not because of your growing suspicion of what he really did. Nor was it because you wanted to double-check how Detective Seo told you that Yunho’s clinic had separate staff for night shifts and he definitely didn’t need to be present every night. It definitely wasn’t because Yeosang slipped when he accidentally told you Yunho had no shift a few nights ago when Yunho himself had told you he had one. And it definitely was not how you suddenly realised one day while writing your novel that Yunho’s answers to your odd questions were a bit too specific- like when you asked him about being stabbed in a certain location with a certain weapon and he slept on it and had a rather specific answer the next day. His answers were always a bit too detailed.
You would have ignored all of it but you found yourself inside the clinic and learned from the kind lady at the reception who thought it was cute that you came to check on him that Yunho only had one night shift a week. But according to what he told you, he had night shifts five days a week.
Just what was he doing?
You absently walked home and instead of writing, you just mindlessly cleaned the nooks and crannies in the living room, your mind too numb to think of possibilities. Perhaps, you needed to start defining things with Yunho- beginning with what your relationship was, exactly, and if it was more than housemates you both definitely needed to talk about a few things-
When you heard the door unlock, you looked at the time- it was almost 4 in the morning. You hadn’t realised how quickly time passed. Yunho entered, looking pretty much the same as he did when he left. You managed a smile and he told you he would be right back, rushing upstairs. You went to wash your hands in the meantime, wondering if you should ask him- would he be angry to learn you went out looking for him? Would he appreciate your concern, or would he shut himself away like he has always done-
“Y/n?” Yunho’s voice brought you back to your senses and you realised you had been zoning out in front of the sink, the tap still running water. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just tired,” you told him, drying your hands and going towards the kitchen to get yourself water. You needed to get a grip.
“You don’t look okay,” Yunho’s brows were furrowed in concern. “Did something happen while I was away?”
“I promise I’m fine,” you said, though you were sure your smile was still unconvincing- or maybe Yunho was just too good at looking right through you. “How was your night shift? Did you get a lot of patients tonight?”
“It was okay,” Yunho exhaled deeply. “A few. Not too busy.”
You nodded slowly. For a moment, you wondered if he was doing night shifts in a different workplace. Perhaps, he had never lied and you just hadn’t figured out that he had jobs at two different places-
“You’re staring,” Yunho commented, tilting his head in thought. You broke eye contact, scanning his clothes- as neat as when he left for ‘work’. “You didn’t meet Detective Seo, did you?”
“No, why?”
“That’s the only time I’ve seen you look like this. Come on, you’re making me worried,” Yunho took a step closer, tucking your hair behind your ear. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s stupid,” you laughed, deciding to tackle at least one thing tonight. “You’ll make fun of me or you'll shut yourself in your cave.”
“You need to stop calling it a cave,” Yunho laughed a bit.
“Until I see it, it’s a cave to me,” you shrugged. “Who knows what you do there?”
“You want to see it?” He asked, absently caressing your cheekbone and your eyes widened.
“That… is not what I meant- I’m curious, yes, but I don’t want to invite myself up there.”
“Well,” Yunho put his hands on your shoulders. “It looks horrible right now- it’s messy and if I bring you upstairs, you’ll forget you’re tired and start cleaning the mess. Some other day?”
“Whenever is okay, it’s probably boring and plain,” you said dismissively and he nodded in satisfaction.
“Then what is really weighing on your mind?”
“Shit, I thought you forgot about it,” you muttered but he wasn’t going to let you go. His grip on your shoulders tightened a fraction. “Look, I’m not trying to be that person and I really, really don’t mind how we are and what we are-”
“Get to the point-”
“What are we?”
Yunho blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“What are we?” You sighed. “I love what we are. I don’t mind it one bit, but I feel like we’re still housemates and there’s still this wall between us and if that’s how things should be… I can work with that. I just… I wish there wasn’t such ambiguity- stop grinning like an idiot, will you?”
“Well,” Yunho stifled another grin. “What do you think we are?”
“I don’t know,” you pouted. “That’s what I’m asking.”
“I don’t know,” Yunho shrugged, straightening and bringing you closer so you were almost flush against him. “I don’t think we’d be doing this if we were ‘just housemates’.”
“My point exactly,” you muttered. “I’m confused. What rules still apply? Can I interfere in your personal life? Can I ask you more than I should? There’s still so much I don’t know about you and sometimes I feel like you’re miles away, Yunho.”
Yunho’s heart ached- he wanted nothing more than to bare his entire soul in front of you. He had considered that seriously over the past few days. He was pretty sure if anyone in this world would understand his reasons for what he did and still want to be with him, it would be you, but what if he was wrong about you? What if he had signed himself to an inevitable heartbreak? If so, how could he ever recover?
“I’m right here,” Yunho kissed your forehead. “You can ask me anything but can I answer at my pace?”
That was enough. You nodded and he smiled, pecking your lips. “Thank you.”
“I’ll wait for you,” you told him. “And I know you’re curious about a few things too- you can ask me anything and I’ll answer at my own pace. Okay?”
Yunho couldn’t help it- he cupped your face and kissed you, wondering how you were so perfect. How could you trust him like this? He sometimes wondered if he was dreaming- there was no way you were real. And he told you that every day, just like he did now, and just like always, you smacked his arm as you blushed.
“You should tell me something else- I’m kind of tired of hearing that,” you laughed.
“Nothing else makes you laugh like this,” Yunho kissed you again, lingering. “You know I love it when you laugh.”
You kissed him back, forgetting all your worries and you felt the exhaustion wash away from your bones as he bent down to pick you up so he could kiss you better. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him take you to the living room- to the couch which was probably your favourite place in this house now, where Yunho and you would spend hours with each other.
As he settled you down on the couch, he broke apart and locked eyes with you. “Well, do you still think we’re just housemates?”
“God, you really got stuck on that one, huh?” You poked his chest. “Okay. You’re what? My boyfriend?”
Yunho’s lips parted and a smile crawled on his lips. “I kind of like the sound of that.”
“Geez, have you never been in a relationship,” you teased and he laughed out loud.
“Just not like this one, no,” he traced your lips with his thumb. “You’re… different.”
“Bet you told that to everyone before me,” you scoffed and he pecked your lips to shut you up. You smiled into the kiss, your hands wandering down his chest and stopping at his hips, snaking up his shirt on his bare skin which earned a light groan from him. You instinctively squeezed his side-
And he stopped kissing you right then. You wondered if you had done something wrong and when you drew apart, you realised he looked as if he was in pain. You frowned, your hands still there while Yunho stifled another groan and when you pressed on both his sides, he finally exhaled-
“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” You whispered, drawing his shirt up without permission and gasping when you saw a big red bruise on his right side as if he had been punched.
“Y/n,” Yunho called in warning but you weren’t having any of it anymore- you pulled his shirt up and if Yunho hadn’t been bracing himself up on either sides of you to keep himself from falling on top of you, he would have stopped you, but now you were staring at his upper body in horror and worry.
You let go of the shirt and it fell down to cover his secrets. You looked at Yunho who couldn’t meet your eyes. “Won’t you let me help you? Won’t you let me take care of you?”
Yunho simply sighed, wondering what to do, what to say. He knew this day would come eventually but he hadn’t imagined it to be like this. He let you gently push him back on the couch and without a word, you went to your room. He slumped down, rubbing his face-
Of all the days, it had to be today. Had to be tonight when he made a mistake and hurt himself. You reappeared out of your room with a medical kit and settled down next to him.
“You’re the doctor, Yunho,” you said and showed him the ointments and medicines in the kit, noticing a number of scars on his body and finally getting a good look at the scar that ran up his arm all the way to the middle of his upper arm. “Tell me how to take care of you.”
Yunho passed you a look, finding the lack of expressions on your face kind of disturbing. Just what were you thinking? He sighed and took out the ointment for the bruise- one he had in his room as well and would have used had he not been distracted by you. You nodded and took the ointment, spreading it along his bruise and gently rubbing it in. Once done, you got up and inspected the rest of his upper body.
“Are you sure that’s the only place you’re hurt?”
“Yep,” he assured you. “You can relax now.”
You scoffed at that, putting the kit aside and folding your arms as you looked at him. “Look… If you don’t want me to, I won’t ask, but you’re not just a doctor. I’m right about that, aren’t I?”
When he didn’t respond, you understood. You were right, and he probably couldn’t say anything. “Do you trust me, Yunho?”
“Y/n, it’s not about trust-”
“Just tell me- do you trust me?”
He locked eyes with you. “Of course I do. If I didn’t… I would have kicked you out long ago, y/n, and I would have never....”
That seemed to satisfy you and when he found the faintest hint of a smile on your lips, he finally relaxed a bit. “I trust you, but there are things I cannot tell you- not right now.”
“I know,” you nodded. “You can stop lying about your night shifts- just say you’re going somewhere. I won’t ask until you tell me.”
Yunho blinked in surprise- just how long ago had you figured him out?
“Also… I would appreciate it if the next time you get hurt, you let me know instead of surprising me like this.”
“Do you… know something you’re not telling me, y/n?”
You smiled at Yunho. If he wasn’t so genuine with his words and his feelings, you would have demanded answers, but what you had with him was special in its own way. No questions asked wasn’t such a bad rule- because you knew that when he answered your questions, you would have to answer his too.
“Do I? I don’t know,” you shrugged. “But I have a feeling that you and I aren’t so different, Yunho.”
Yunho wished he could tell you who he was- his friends insisted he was not a ‘murderer’ like he would often call himself but a vigilante. A hero to most, an enemy to the others- especially the police who had been on his tail for a while now. How could you possibly be the same as him? He had killed people with his own hands, and though it could be argued that he only killed the worst of criminals, if Hongjoong hadn’t been there the night his parents were killed, he could very well be in prison for attempted murder or worse.
All these years, as he killed one corrupted individual after another, he was convinced that he was the one who was truly corrupted inside. He was the one who needed to meet the fate that anyone who encountered him did. His friends, especially Hongjoong, were aware that there was a twisted part inside him that took joy in the simple act of killing people- people who stole from others. Stole their loved ones, their life, their hard work. You couldn’t possibly be as bad as him, could you? There was absolutely no way-
“Stop thinking so much,” you whispered, placing your hand on his and he immediately shifted so he was holding your hand, squeezing it as if he needed some assurance. “I just want you to be careful, okay? Whatever you do… stay safe, will you?”
“How can you trust me so blindly?” Yunho asked.
“I told you, right?” You smiled. “I know who you are- at least to me. That’s enough for me.”
Yunho smiled back, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you wrapped your arm around his bare shoulders, burying your hand in his hair and caressing them gently. You let go of Yunho’s hand only to trace the long scar on his arm, wishing you could ask how he got it but you would wait. You kissed his temple and he sighed, nuzzling against you.
“I’m afraid…” Yunho confessed in a voice so small you were wondering if you were hearing things. “I’m afraid you’ll run away when you learn who I am.”
Your heart sank at his words. He was just like you. In all your previous relationships, you made people run away from you. You could never give them what you wanted. They would find you too secretive or too accepting. Little did they know that you were only hiding your ugly past and trying your best not to let it interfere with your life.
“You couldn’t possibly be worse than me,” you told him and that prompted him to lift his head to look at you. “I’m convinced I’m a monster. Could you love a monster, Yunho?”
Yunho took in your blank gaze as you said those words and he realised that perhaps, you were right. Perhaps, you were just like him too, with some twisted part inside you, something that had you convinced that you were a monster.
And if that was the case… he could love you. He wanted nothing more than to love you and tell you that you made him feel human even at his worst, so he leaned forward to kiss you slowly, letting you know what he felt through the way he held your waist and brought you on top of him, through the way he held you so close to him and sighed when you wrapped your arms around his, through the way he started trailing kisses everywhere on your skin. And when you gave him more, he accepted it. If that was the last time you would ever look at him and not feel horrified, he was going to make sure he made you feel loved so he forgot about all his worries and smiled at you playfully, beyond relieved when you bit your lips in excitement.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Yunho whispered, sucking at your neck- he had a thing for that certain spot, you had realised now.
“We haven’t even begun, though,” you commented and Yunho paused, considering your words. He experimentally snaked his hand up your thigh and when you only kissed his temple in response, he understood.
An invitation.
“Shall we take this to bed, then?”
You nodded, sharing an open-mouthed kiss before he got up and started going towards your room.
If only he knew that your invitation was for the same reasons as his.
—---------------------------
For all your talk about trust, you sure were walking on the fine line that marked trust from betrayal.
And if things hadn’t turned out the way they had been turning out for the past two weeks, you would have never been here. You scoffed internally as you took another turn into a dark alley, a safe distance behind Yunho so he wouldn’t notice your presence- anything to convince yourself that you were only doing this to make sure he would be safe. To make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself again-
Because you had a gut feeling that something was going to happen tonight, and your gut was never, ever wrong. Your gut had saved (or doomed, it could be argued) you two decades ago. You could trust yourself with that.
Though, again, that was debatable as well. Was it your gut that had you all nervous and hypervigilant or was it the growing suspicions about Yunho?
Because a few days ago, Detective Seo called you and requested that you visit the station. You would have ignored him had he not been so polite for once. Ultimately, the reason you visited him was because you wanted to clear his suspicions of you and get him off your tail- you had finally settled in this town at peace and you couldn’t have the detective ruining that.
And also, a small part of you wanted to learn more about why he suspected Yunho.
You discovered during your visit that you were right- your involvement in his investigation of Yunho made him suspicious of you. You learned that the reason he was so intent on having Yunho come to the station and give a proper statement was because a few of his alibis no longer held any validity- he had said something about a night shift when he had none. The detective didn’t like how the doctors and a few of the staff members around him were so uncooperative and secretive. If that wasn’t enough, the detective was still curious about the 12-inch knife in your kitchen.
He joked about how he or his colleagues didn’t own a 12-inch meat knife at home- apparently a non-professional one was usually 7 to 10 inches long. You told him that it was irrelevant but when he mentioned how his suspect had stopped using kitchen knives a few months ago and switched to a dagger of a unique built, it had you wondering-
The detective didn’t know those knives actually belonged to Yunho, which was why he was also suspecting you now. What if you told him? What if the timing of the change of the murder weapon matched?
You only asked the detective if he really believed you were capable of wielding daggers and he shook his head in denial. You then asked if he really thought the surgeon could be a suspect in his case.
“I can’t tell you what it is, but we have substantial evidence to keep an eye on him, at least. If it’s him, he’s not alone.”
And that’s what got you thinking if you were wrong about who Yunho and his friends were. Especially when only a couple days later you went to visit them at the clinic with some fresh cookies and you got a peek at the register at reception that had a schedule of all doctors and you learned that Yunho had no night shift for the rest of the week-
Only to find him lying about it and hearing the news about the murder of a renowned politician while he was god knows where.
You didn’t ask Yunho why he lied about the night shift because he had agreed not to make up that excuse again. You casually confirmed with Wooyoung if he had really been at the clinic that night and he told you he had, but you weren’t done there. You double-checked with the young girl at reception in the clinic- she was quite a fan of your cookies and now that she knew you and Yunho were close, she willingly confirmed that Yunho had indeed not been at the clinic that night. Neither had any of his friends.
You wished you could simply confront Yunho and ask but he was still hesitant. And really, you would have let everything be. You would have waited for him, but tonight?
Tonight he told you he was going to the clinic to meet up with Wooyoung and give him some company during his boring night shift. Pretty believable, but your gut twisted as soon as he stepped out and you knew that you just had to make sure that he was going to the clinic. You covered yourself with a jacket and scarf, grabbed the keys and wore your shoes-
Changing your mind and going to the kitchen to grab a little something before finally stepping out.
And that’s how you got here, one bus ride and a good walk later, deep in some abandoned part of the town following Yunho through the alleys until he stopped abruptly, making you take a few steps back and hide yourself in a corner. Strangely, Yunho seemed to be inspecting the area. What for, you didn’t know. He looked around and checked if the gate at the end of the alley was really locked. After thorough inspection which made you wonder if he was looking for someone or something, he started walking in your direction, probably to leave. You discreetly slid down and away so he would cross you without looking in your direction, and thankfully, he did.
You sighed, wondering if tonight had been a waste in which case your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you sleep for a good few days unless you came clean to Yunho. You were just following him back because you were pretty sure you would get lost otherwise when you spotted another man at the opposite end of the street. Instinctively, you hid again and waited for the man to continue along that street and get out of your way-
Except he turned in the street in Yunho’s direction.
You made a face and decided to fall behind the two- surely the man would be on his own way soon, except there was something odd about the way he was walking-
He was walking just like you had been- short, quick and silent steps, a good distance behind Yunho to avoid encountering him. Was he following Yunho too? How did he know Yunho would be here? Had he seen you- did he know you were here? It was too dark to make out who he was.
The two turned to another street and the man kept following him even after the crossroads, confirming your suspicions that Yunho was being followed. Perhaps, Yunho had been waiting for this man when he had been looking around the alley-
A sharp glint near the man’s thigh caught your attention and with a sinking heart, you realised-
The man was wielding a weapon. Something sharp that looked an awful lot like the very knife you had hidden inside your jacket.
You froze for a few moments that you knew would cost you something. There was just too much to consider- the feeling of impending doom, the worry for Yunho’s life, the fight-or-flight response making its way to control your future actions and worst of all, the feeling that you were back where you had been when you were still a child trying to protect your father from a situation just like this.
And as the man’s pace quickened and the distance between him and Yunho got shorter, you let the child that had murdered a grown man to protect a loved one take over. Just like that night, you raised your knife in the air without realising when you actually took it out of your jacket. And just like that time, you found yourself running towards the man- this time, experienced and calculating. You would have to congratulate yourself for being so certain about what you were doing-
“Yunho, watch out!”
Though Yunho recognised your voice immediately, the fear in your voice was unfamiliar and he turned around with dread pooling in his nerves, his eyes widening as he tried to process an unfamiliar face of a man with a weapon aimed at him- way too close- and then your figure, perhaps as unfamiliar this time, running towards the man. Yunho instinctively dodged the attack and before he could react further, you collided with the man, crashing on the floor with grunts.
Every nerve in your body screamed as you both clawed at each other while trying not to hurt yourselves, getting nicked here and there and before the man could actually think and overpower you, you buried the length of your knife between his collarbones, effectively disarming him and the man’s eyes widened as he whimpered in pain-
No.
“Y/n,” Yunho almost cried as he sank down next to you, spotting the horror in your eyes and in that moment, he knew only one thing- that he couldn’t let you burden yourself with having to live with blood on your hands. He inspected the stab on the man’s neck, sucking in his breath when he realised the knife in your hand was from your kitchen- the same damned knife he had spilled blood with. The man coughed blood and your grip on the knife finally loosened as you realised just what you had done.
While you remained frozen in your spot, Yunho realised that the man was beyond help though with the current position of the knife in his throat, he was going to bleed to death for a long while before he could let go. So Yunho made a decision and gently unwrapped your hands from the knife, squeezing them to make you look at him.
“Y/n? Are you with me?”
His voice felt miles away, drowned by the ringing in your ears and you could only blink. Yunho took a deep, shaky breath. “Do you trust me?”
You didn’t know how long you stared at him but he gently shook your shoulder, making you crawl away from the shivering body of the man. “Y/n, do you trust me?”
This time, you did hear him and you nodded slowly, still in a trance. “Yunho- save him, please-”
Yunho had his answer. He slid the knife out of the spot between his collarbones only to stab him on another spot in his neck not far from the original and you watched in horror as the man groaned once before falling limp. Yunho put a hand over the wounds as if that could possibly stop the bleeding and then he asked you to take off your scarf. You weren’t sure you heard him right but with his free hand he started to unwind the scarf from around your neck. You didn’t make any effort to help him- you simply watched him wrap your scarf around his neck to stop further bleeding-
“He’s dead,” you practically spat out. “Why do you need to stop the bleeding now?”
Yunho didn’t answer. Once his hands were free, he bent down to pick the man and started walking back to the alley, stopping when he realised you weren’t following him. He turned to look at you, eyes void of emotions. “Aren’t you going to come?”
You got up with immense struggle, looking around- why was there no one to help? Why was this abandoned area so empty in the middle of the night? You grabbed the man’s knife and started following Yunho, your hands and legs shaking uncontrollably and each step got harder to take. When you reached the spot Yunho had checked out earlier, he laid the man’s body down and you finally sank to the floor, drawing your knees to your chest and trying to breathe. You could hear him talking into the phone to someone, giving them the address.
All you knew was that you had killed someone. Again. And this time, your father wasn’t there to protect you and take the blame. This time, you weren’t a child who needed such protection. You were an adult and you had killed-
You felt arms wrap around your figure and you finally let out a shaky sob though your eyes remained dry. Yunho rubbed your back and asked you to breathe with him, drawing away and rubbing your cold hands in his to share some warmth- though his were just as cold. You could only see the blood on your hands, on your clothes-
“Y/n, listen to me carefully,” his deep voice echoed inside you. “You didn’t kill the man, okay?”
“You’re lying,” your teeth were chattering with cold and fear now. “I killed him.”
“No,” Yunho shook his head. “You protected me. I killed him.”
“You can’t do this to me, not you too,” you finally cried. “Not you too. I killed again, and this time, I’ll take responsibility.”
Yunho took a moment to process what you had said as he scanned your figure- everything finally started to make sense though there was still so much he needed answers to. “Listen to me. You didn’t deliver the killing blow. I did. I’m the one who killed him.”
“You and I both know he would have died anyway,” you locked eyes with him and Yunho knew then that it was no use trying to convince you that you weren’t to blame. “You just made it easier for him.”
Yunho didn’t respond to that. He simply kept rubbing your hands as if that could turn back time and make things right. When you heard the sound of footsteps, you got tense and almost panicked but Yunho assured you it was just his friends and everything would be okay soon. You watched Wooyoung and Mingi assess the situation, not reacting much and numbly, you let Wooyoung accompany you to his car. You kept looking for Yunho though and Wooyoung smiled a bit despite the situation, assuring you that he would be right there.
While on your way, Wooyoung made sure you were warm and made you eat a few bites of chocolate, telling you you would need it. You asked him how he was so calm right now- was it not his first time that something like this happened?
“Something tells me it’s not your first time either, y/n,” he simply responded and you fell silent after that.
You shut your eyes and let your mind wander about what was going to happen next. Sure, you felt a sense of security being around Yunho- he had done something you could never have imagined- but there was still a small part of you thinking about how this was the end for you. You were going to go to prison. Perhaps you would meet the same fate as your father. Your mother and brother would certainly be pleased to see you behind bars. You could hear their laughter and the ‘I told you so’ even now-
“Y/n?” Yunho’s gentle voice made you open your eyes. “We’re here.”
You looked at ‘here’ which was another abandoned area with dimly lit streets and a warehouse which Hongjoong was unlocking the doors of. Yunho helped you out of the car- you definitely needed that since your legs were still wobbly. You noticed that not everyone made it back and you asked him where they were.
“They’re taking a detour- they’ll be here in a few minutes.”
You nodded and followed him inside and if the circumstances would have been different, you could have appreciated how well organised the inside of the warehouse was, looking like a home with couches and games and fridge and enough space to do anything and everything. It looked like a hideout and you smiled faintly before sitting on the couch. Hongjoong brought you beer and you gladly accepted, taking a few gulps and letting Wooyoung wrap a blanket around you, letting Yunho clean the blood off your hands and spotting the cuts littering your hands and arms. Now that there was enough light, he could spot the numbness in your eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, suddenly breaking out of your trance. “Are you? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m okay,” he breathed. “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good, I…” you looked at your scarred hands. “I’m… okay.”
“Y/n,” Yunho took your hands in his again and you met his worried eyes. “How did you know? Why did you follow me?”
“I… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” you sighed and he squeezed your hands. “I’m sorry-”
“It’s alright, but I need to know what happened tonight so I can help you, okay?” Yunho said and you nodded, straightening.
“I knew you had no night shift today- I saw in the register by chance,” you told him and he nodded. “So when you said you were going, I knew you were lying. I would have let you go, trust me, but… I had a feeling something was about to happen. Or maybe… maybe I was just too suspicious- because Detective Seo said if it was you, you weren’t alone-”
“You met Detective Seo again?” He asked, his tone still gentle but you spotted Seonghwa looking at you apprehensively. “Why?”
“He called me to the station a few days ago because he was suspicious of me- the knives,” you let out a nervous laugh and Yunho nodded, understanding. “He told me his suspect’s murder weapon and method had changed and the timing was just a bit off. He knew it couldn’t be me but we have history so he just needed to make sure.”
“Did you tell him about Yunho- or anything?” Seonghwa asked.
Yunho gently warned Seonghwa but you told him it was okay. “He doesn’t know the knives belong to Yunho and he is just suspecting him because apparently your alibis are invalid now. That’s all he’s got on you, actually.”
They all sighed in relief and you heard the doors open, the rest of them joining you and exchanging drinks. “You’re all oddly calm about all of this.”
“We’re doctors,” Yeosang commented. “We have to be calm at times like this.”
“You’re oddly calm too,” San noticed.
“That’s what I said,” Wooyoung quipped in and Yunho asked you if the boys were overwhelming you but you shook your head no.
“Can you tell me what happened next? Why did you follow me?”
You took a deep breath. “I said Detective Seo and I have history. When I was little… about two decades ago, I… we lived in a small town, the four of us. My father was in debt and he often had to run away from gangsters and loan sharks. One day, he got cornered by one of the men and he had a gun- he looked like he was about to shoot my dad. My mom was protecting us- me and my brother, but I… I did what I could to protect him. I went to the kitchen, grabbed the first knife I saw and stabbed that man multiple times in the back.”
“Oh, y/n,” Yunho’s voice sounded pained and you heard a chorus of sucked breaths and exhales. Your hands started trembling again and Yunho squeezed them, planting a kiss to your knuckles which just made tears pool in your eyes.
“I did that to protect him,” your voice was just as shaky as your hands now. “That man died and my father ended up taking all the blame to protect me from the police. Detective Seo was in charge of that case and he always suspected me- especially because my mother and brother started hating me for putting my dad in such a situation. He found all of it odd. So tonight… I had a feeling just like that night- like something bad was about to happen. Or maybe I’m just making up that excuse to cover the fact that I betrayed your trust and followed you to see just what you were up to-”
“No,” Yunho embraced you, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Even if you followed me because you were suspicious, you were right to do so. I shouldn’t have lied about the night shift- anyone would have suspected me after that. It just slipped- it’s my fault.”
“It’s not,” you wiped your eyes, drawing away. “I shouldn’t have followed you-”
“You saved me,” Yunho smiled at you. “Your gut feeling, your suspicions… they were right. If it weren’t for you-”
“But I killed him,” you cried. “You cannot take the blame for it now.”
Seonghwa cleared his throat. “We’ve uh… identified the man. Yunho, you might want to tell her who you really are.”
Yunho nodded, wiping your tears away. “Do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go home?”
“I think I’d like to go home… if that’s alright with you guys,” you said and the boys assured you that it was. Yunho got up and took the car keys from Seonghwa, sharing a few words with him and Wooyoung and Mingi asked you if you needed anything. You told them you were fine but you would like to be in the comfort of your own home right now and they understood.
“If Yunho bothers you too much, you can call us,” Mingi teased. “We’ll take care of him.”
“I think it’s the other way round, but thank you,” you finally laughed. “Can I ask- what will happen to that man? The body…”
“Yunho will let you know- you don’t have to worry about anything,” Wooyoung assured you and when Yunho extended his hand, you took a deep breath and took it.
You were going home, and you were finally going to learn who Yunho was.
—--------------------------
It was surreal to enter your home now, Yunho by your side and the weight of the events from the past few hours hanging over your shoulders. You both went to change first and you found yourself unable to look at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your face and hands. You took a few deep breaths to calm down, as best as you could manage in that moment before leaving and finding the smell of chamomile tea in the living room. Yunho motioned for you to join him on the couch and you passed a tight-lipped smile before obeying. You sipped the tea and waited for Yunho to gather his thoughts.
“When I was in high school,” Yunho finally began and you shifted towards him to watch him. “One night, a serial killer decided my parents were his next victims. He followed my mom home and killed both of them, and I… I wasn’t home- by the time I came home, he was done killing them.”
“Oh, dear,” you held Yunho’s hand. You couldn’t imagine what he must have felt.
“I saw him leaving,” Yunho sighed deeply. “Hongjoong was with me- he witnessed everything. He tried to stop me from going after the killer but I grabbed a metal rod and went after the man. He had a knife and that’s how I got this scar,” Yunho pointed at his arm. “Hongjoong saved me that night but I lost a part of me that night. A part that was human. I became almost animalistic, trying to find the killer.”
“Did you ever find him then?” You asked.
“I did, but after he died,” Yunho slumped back on the couch. “I couldn’t get my revenge. It wasn’t long after that incident. I lost my mind and was about to become the very killer I hated. Hongjoong saved me yet again- he knew that I wouldn’t stop at anything now. I was getting into a lot of fights and basically ruining my life.”
“How did he save you then?”
“He handed me a dagger and told me to do what I must with it,” Yunho admitted. “I was shocked because usually he was the one hiding anything that could become a weapon from me. But then I realised that I was only trying to protect innocent people like my parents. I would aimlessly walk the streets and help anyone who needed it.”
“That’s… very you,” you smiled and Yunho shook his head.
“I’m not a good person, though,” he said. “Somehow, we found each other, the eight of us. We select targets- corrupt politicians, rapists, offenders… especially the people who are public figures and lead double lives. We send hints to the police so they can do their job but when they don’t… we take the matter into our own hands.”
“Oh,” you frowned. “The politician a few days ago-”
“Not me,” Yunho shook his head. “Though he was my next target.”
“So you… kill them?”
“We only kill when someone is powerful enough to get away with all their crimes,” Yunho admitted and your heart sank dangerously- hearing it from his own mouth now, it finally started to feel real.
“Isn’t that… okay?” You wondered. “The police can’t do anything and they would only cause further harm if they are alive.”
“Yes, but…” Yunho tucked your hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t enjoy it so much, should I? I think I’m twisted like that, y/n. I feel no remorse.”
You looked at him- how could you tell him that you understood? That you were okay with that? He would tell you over and over again that it was wrong, because he knew that too. You knew that too, yet…
“It’s kind of ironic then, that you all are doctors, right?” You finally said and he coughed, making you laugh a little- more in disbelief than in amusement. “So all your night shifts…?”
“We meet up at the warehouse to plan and work on new cases,” Yunho said.
“And the man that I…”
“We identified him- the boys are digging up further but we’re suspecting he’s the copycat killer.”
“The copycat killer?” You repeated in disbelief. “Copying who- oh.”
Yunho pursed his lips guiltily. “Those kitchen knives… they were murder weapons. Now you know why I got so angry when you used them to cook.”
“Oh, goodness-”
“Don’t worry, I sanitised them,” he said as if that could make things better. “When I stopped using them, someone kept murdering people with similar weapons. And not just carefully selected scum- innocent people. It was why Detective Seo suspected me at first and then let me go easily because it just didn’t match. He probably figured out that someone is copying the real killer.”
You took a deep breath. “I killed… a serial killer?”
“Yes,” Yunho held your hands, making you face him. “Do you know how badly the events of tonight could have turned out?”
“But he was going to kill you,” you said. “He had it all planned- he was waiting for you, Yunho. You could have been seriously hurt tonight- do you realise that?”
“I can’t believe you’re still worried about me,” Yunho almost cried. “Do you have any idea what went through my head when I saw you throwing yourself in the way to protect me… I thought I was going to lose you, y/n. Why did you do that?”
“I can’t lose you,” you simply said. “It felt like I was back to being that kid trying to protect my father. Why did you kill him without knowing who he was? Why did you try to take the blame, Yunho? Do you know how scared I was when you did that?”
When Yunho didn’t respond, his eyes tearing up, you continued. “I thought it was happening all over again. You would take the blame and I would have to live with the guilt. I’ve lived with guilt for far too long, Yunho. My father… he never made it out of prison. He was never a criminal and I guess the other prisoners found out, and they… they killed him. My mother and brother never forgave me after that. Do you think I could live with something like this again?”
Yunho wiped his eyes. “I understand, y/n, I really do,” he nodded. “But you have to understand that I was scared for you tonight. You shouldn’t have done any of that- the police will find the man’s body with all his crimes soon, but even if he was someone innocent, you shouldn’t have done that-”
“I did that to protect you,” you smiled. “What’s so hard to understand about that? Just like you delivered the killing blow to protect me, yeah? Why did you do that?”
“Because I love you,” Yunho breathed. “And I couldn’t bear to see that broken look in your eyes.”
“But we’re both broken in our own ways,” the tears finally rolled down your cheeks at his confession and he laughed a little, wiping them away as he cupped your face. “Is that why you’ve been so distant? So unapproachable? You thought you were broken and no one could love you?”
When Yunho nodded, you shook your head. “Well, I might be just like you then. And I love you for who you are. I love you for the way you tried to protect me, and I love you for still loving me when I told you who I am.”
Yunho finally relaxed and laughed, bringing you in for a hug and you got in his lap, wrapping your limbs around each other. You hugged him good and tight, telling him that he didn’t have to be so guarded anymore- he could be himself with you. He kissed you and told you that you could stop being so scared as well. You found yourself content in his embrace as you both shared your pasts and concerns, assuring each other that everything would be okay and helping each other process the events of tonight, Yunho treating the various places you got nicked and patching you up. You were still scared and anxious but he was there for you, holding you even as you fell asleep.
There was no place he would rather be anyway.
—----------------------------
“The snake in the suit was cornered now. With a grim realisation, he wondered if he should have listened to the lanky cop on his case that he couldn’t even bother to remember the name of– he probably meant well when he suggested the snake be careful now. What would the snake need to be afraid of? The snake was a predator. It only needed to worry about finding prey.
However, the predator had become the prey now, defenceless in front of the masked spider who wielded his weapon of justice- a beautifully carved dagger with a golden hilt. For the first time in his life, the snake wished it had been a gun instead so his end would have been quick. However, just like the snake had enjoyed wearing the face of justice to the public while circulating drugs to the desperate, the spider enjoyed wearing no mask when he prosecuted his targets. The spider had one purpose to serve- so why not enjoy it?
The spider leaned into the snake’s ears, holding the tip of his dagger under the snake’s chin as he whispered, “I sent you countless warnings, didn’t I? I told you what fate you would meet if you continued down this road. Prison would have been a playground for you compared to the hell I’m about to show you.”
Any ramblings of mercy went up the spider’s head- he couldn’t hear anything anymore. With a kick to the snake’s stomach, he made him sink to his knees before he swiped the dagger along his cheekbone, producing a spurt of blood. The snake let out a choked whimper and the spider cocked his head, wondering which part of his body to ruin next– hey, y/n… I’m pretty sure it’s not that deep.”
“It’s fiction, Wooyoung,” you simply winked but Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it.
“Yunho, tell me, did you really cock your head and wonder which part of him you’d like to ruin next?”
Yunho only bothered shooting Wooyoung a dirty look in between arguing with San and Jongho about a recent case they had at their clinic- something about how to perform a specific type of stitch that would be seamless.
“What do you think, Yeosang?” Wooyoung elbowed the man next to him. “Don’t you think she’s overdoing some of it?”
“Well, what do you want me to write? ‘Yunho went and killed the politician who had been circulating drugs all around the province’. Plain and simple like that?”
“I think she writes gore to cope,” Yeosang commented. “I’ve been seeing a pattern and- wait, was I not supposed to point that out?”
You looked at Mingi for help who looked moments away from bursting into laughter. “You might want to switch your psychiatrist, y/n.”
“I think I’m good with you,” you grimaced at Yeosang who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “This one should stick to the kidney stuff instead of treating the mind.”
“You heard her,” Mingi clapped, finally bursting out laughing. “Stick to being a nephrologist.”
“I don’t even know how people can have you as their psychiatrist,” Yeosang narrowed his eyes at Mingi and you shook your head in amusement- this banter wasn’t new. “What do you tell them? This too shall pass?”
Wooyoung snorted at that while Mingi raised his finger at him, trying to come up with a retort but failing and sulk-walking to Yunho, resting his head against his shoulder. You smiled at how Yunho naturally adjusted to have both of them in a comfortable position while continuing arguing with the Chois.
It had been a couple of months since that fateful night. You were still trying to process most of what happened that night and the boys were always there to help you with that, going above and beyond. While at first you had been apprehensive of them- rightfully so- now they were almost like family to you. You found that all of them were extremely hardworking and ambitious, but also very gentle and kind. Or perhaps, you were receiving special treatment as Yunho often joked.
Yunho gave you all the time and space you needed to sort your thoughts out while continuing being there for you- you were amazed at how good he was with that balance. He never let you feel overwhelmed or alone. He answered all of your questions about him and he just knew when you wanted to talk about your own feelings. He would ask you what you were afraid to find the answers to and then help you navigate through the tangled web that your thoughts were. When he suggested you go to Mingi for ‘therapy sessions’, you asked him if he genuinely thought you needed therapy and if Mingi was really the right person to go considering his role in what they did.
“I mean… Mingi is sort of my therapist too,” Yunho admitted to your surprise. “One thing about him is that he understands. No matter how sick or twisted you think you may be, he understands and he guides you to your own solution to that. Surprisingly, he’s the one who helped me overcome my rage and trauma of my parents, not Hongjoong.”
That really got you thinking and when you went to your appointment with Mingi in his clinic, he asked you what role you would like him to play- a stranger and just a therapist, or who he really was. You preferred the latter and soon, you found yourself looking forward to going to those sessions. You could now talk about what happened with your father without feeling an immense sense of guilt because even though all this time you knew it was not your fault, you simply hadn’t made peace with that. Mingi also helped you realise that what they did- the ‘vigilante’ stuff- it wasn’t lawful. It might even be wrong and you needed to acknowledge and remember that.
And you did. So when Seonghwa and Hongjoong came to you with an odd proposition, you took your time thinking about it. You spent a few days away from everything, back in your hometown to visit your mother and brother and this time, you could actually talk back to them when they mocked you about going to your father’s grave when, according to them, you were his murderer. That time away helped you sort through the final knots in your mind.
And when Yunho came back home that day to the smell of a freshly cooked meal in his house, he had to take a moment for himself. He spread his arms as soon as he saw you and you crushed him in a hug, giggling like kids. You were back in his arms and that was all that mattered to him. You informing him that you agreed to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s proposition was a bonus.
“She’s a crime-gore fiction writer, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong finally said. “You can’t expect anything less from her. Besides, the details make it look less believable, which means less people will suspect that what she writes is not wholly fictional.”
“Exactly,” you nodded. “Good one by the way, Yeosang.”
“Yeah, I was going to say that,” Hongjoong laughed. “I once went to Mingi too. He told me that exact line and that’s when I decided I didn’t really need therapy.”
“Ah, I didn’t know that,” Yeosang laughed. “No wonder he’s sulking so much.”
“He’ll be fine,” Seonghwa chuckled and you didn’t miss the adoration in his eyes as he glanced at Mingi. Seonghwa turned to you, closing your book and placing it on the table in front of him. “I think you did a great job. It’s a very engaging story and the facts are present for the wise ones if they can connect the dots. I quite like it, y/n.”
“Thank you,” you smiled. “I owe it to you both. You’re really good editors- it’s too bad you both refuse to take credit.”
“It would only raise suspicion,” Hongjoong dismissed. “You’re the writer. We’re only, uh… inspirations?”
“Inspirations,” Wooyoung repeated. “I know exactly who would be pleased to hear that. Our favourite detective.”
“I heard from a source that he spent two hours trying to convince his coworkers that what you were writing wasn’t fiction,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s been quite silent lately.”
“The excitement must have dulled now- it’s been weeks since this book has been out,” you said. “I think he might be starting to take pointers now. He texted me a few days ago asking which politician he should keep an eye out for next.”
“What did you say?” Yeosang asked.
“I told him the next book could be about a detective who refuses to leave a poor girl alone,” you grinned, the group bursting into a chorus of laughter. “He enjoyed that joke, actually. I think he’s warming up to me now.”
“He better not,” Yunho finally joined, putting his hands on your shoulders from behind you. “I don’t want him obsessing about what kitchen tools we use these days. Shall we go home now?”
You nodded, saying goodnight to the boys and exiting the warehouse with Yunho. A bike ride later in the chilly night, you were home and just like always, grinning as you entered- you still loved the bike rides.
“Oh, tomorrow’s Sunday,” you clapped, suddenly remembering. “We get to sleep in. What do you wanna do tonight? Movie?”
“Hmm, let’s see,” Yunho pretended to think, a grin creeping up on his face as he tackled you in a back hug and swung you around once, making your laugh echo in the house. “I think I’ll skip.”
“What’s got you so mushy tonight?” You asked- Yunho was swinging you both back and forth, his cheek resting against yours.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just still can’t get used to the fact that you’re real.”
You chuckled at that- you knew that Yunho absolutely loved the sight of you getting along with his friends, working with them, and actually supporting them. You insisted it was because the world really needed less criminals prowling around and while Yunho agreed, he also knew that part of the reason you agreed in the first place was because of him and he told you that he sometimes couldn’t believe that you could love him despite what he did.
You only told him once that a sick part of you definitely enjoyed killing those men if that meant you got to protect your loved ones. He remembered what you said- that everyone had something ugly like that in them- they just hadn’t been desperate enough to realise it yet. And thanks to you, Yunho was discovering a new side of himself- someone passionate and gentle and human. Sure, he had been that with his friends before, but with you, it was definitely different and new.
“Says the 6 foot tall handsome doctor slash biker slash vigilante. It can’t get hotter than that,” you teased.
“Bet you moved in because of that.”
“Maybe I did,” you teased. “Wasn’t it the best decision you made, agreeing to let me move in?”
Yunho thought about it for a few moments, humming to himself. “I could think of a few better decisions I’ve made-”
You smacked his arm, getting out of his grasp and muttering you were going to bed first and Yunho laughed loudly at your antics, following you as you walked towards the stairs and when you noticed him, you sped up, giggling when he started running after you. You barely made it to his room when he had you in his arms again and was peppering kisses all over your face.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “The best decision I made was probably letting Detective Seo rattle you out while I stood outside and listened.”
You gasped loudly. “You did all of that just to have an excuse to kiss me, didn’t you?”
“Who knows?” Yunho shrugged teasingly. “Might not have gotten a better chance.”
“Come on, say it,” you started unbuttoning his shirt. “When exactly did you fall for me?”
“Let’s see…” he thought about it while you took off his shirt and ran your hands across his toned chest, tracing all his scars like you always did. “Could have been when you scolded me about the boots and the water trail and ordered me to use the bunny towel.”
“Sheesh, you’re that easy?”
“Yeah, I’m simple like that,” Yunho muttered before drawing in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. “It’s the little things you did that made me a mess way before you defended me with all your might.”
“That was the first time you laughed,” you smiled at the memory, turning him around so you could make him sit on his bed. You got in his lap and he squeezed your thighs in appreciation. “I think you had me right there too.”
Yunho shook his head at your confession and you grinned, pushing him to make him lie down. He loved it when you did that and took your time appreciating him, kissing all his scars and massaging his scalp as you drove him a little crazy, rolling your hips on his crotch suggestively once in a while. And he let you take your time because once he took charge, once he flipped you so you were under him and let his hands run all over your body as he kissed every inch of it, and once you were skin to skin-
That’s when you were done for.
#yunho x reader#yunho angst#yunho fluff#ateez ff#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez smut#yunho smut#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez au#yunho fanfic#jeong yunho#jeong yunho x reader#jeong yunho angst#jeong yunho fluff
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Prince and the Frog — Housewardens x gn! reader
summary: you find yourself cursed and you go to your prince to lift it.
tw: none that I can think of.
a/n: I saw something about the princess and the frog and got inspo. This is so fun, goofy, and lovely, I hope y'all enjoy <3
wc: 1.9k (~300 each character)
Master List
You weren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve this, but even you felt it wasn’t enough. I mean a frog? Really? And the cure was a true love's kiss? Seriously? Can it get any more cliche? You might as well search for a princess and turn her into a frog as well and then set off into a journey of personal growth…you suppose a prince will have to do. You went to the first person you thought could help, time to see if they really would still love you if you were a worm, err…frog.
❥ Riddle Rosehearts
Okay, so maybe Riddle wasn’t technically a prince, but a queen is a step above that, no? You were a little scared of his reaction, but you couldn’t stay a frog forever. Not to mention that someone else had cursed you, it’s not like you turned yourself into a frog. So when you managed to find him he freaked out, mouth agape as you explained your situation. Thank the sevens you could still talk. Riddle’s face soured, lips twisted into a scowl. At first you thought he was going to find a way to collar you in your current slippery state, but he ended up ranting about the person who cursed you, asking for any details that you could provide. The thought of kissing you to break the curse hadn’t even crossed his mind, instead skipping straight to punishing the fool who’d curse the Queen’s rose and making them reverse it. It was then that you learned just how quickly Riddle could sniff someone out if he wanted to, because the effects had been reversed by the end of the same day. (If that doesn’t show you how much he loves you then I don’t know what can).
❥ Leona Kingscholar
…are you sure about this? I mean…yeah he’s a prince and all but he might just toss you mistaking you for a random frog who dared to encroach on his space. The type to argue he wouldn’t have to love you if you were a worm cause how ridiculous is that? Well…not so ridiculous now, huh? Thankfully, you had found Ruggie first, explaining your situation and asking for him to bring you to Leona. Not so thankfully, Ruggie found the entire thing hilarious and had to take a moment to calm himself down. He kept snickering to himself the entire way to Leona, making you want to die, or just stay a frog and live a happy life in a nice little pond and start a little froggy family. When Ruggie managed to tell Leona what was going on in between laughter Leona just stared at you like you were the stupidest motherfucker. Hey! It wasn’t like you were asking to be cursed! Has an internal conflict on what to do. On one hand he wants to prove he’s your true love, and kissing you seems to be the quickest way to get this over with…on the other you are a literal frog. Shooing Ruggie away, Leona bemoaningly gave you the quickest peck ever, making a face of disgust as he pulled away. The transformation back took a few seconds, but the look of disgust quickly turned to a smug smirk, feeling proud that you were truly his.
❥ Azul Ashengrotto
Okay, so again, not an actual prince…but he excelled at potions, so it only made sense…except he’ll probably make you sign your life away. So maybe not a good choice once again. I pray for you because one if not both of the Leech twins are gonna find you first and they’re gonna have a field day. ‘My, you’d look perfect in one of my terrariums’ Jade would note. Floyd would probably accidentally kill you because this entire situation is oh so hilarious and he forgot he’s supposed to be holding you gently. After the two have their fun (Jade plays with you and his terrarium like you're a doll in a dollhouse), they finally bring you to Azul, laughing their asses off in their own ways. Azul stares at you blankly as the two eel brothers leave, trying his hardest to not laugh. His face is red from concealing his humor, looking to the side to collect himself. He’ll offer you the cure, but for a price. Kiss you? He has a reputation to upkeep you know. He can’t be seen kissing frogs, imagine what that’ll do to his image! No, no, just sign the contract, and to sweeten the deal he’ll have the twins deal with the pest who thought it was a good idea to curse his angelfish. If you really persist, he’ll give in eventually. To be fair, he is also curious to see if you're his true love, but on the other hand he’s terrified if you're not. He doesn’t want to lose you. And to both your delight, you transform back after he gives you a small kiss on your little froggy head…he’s also running laps in his mind at how happy he is.
❥ Kalim Al-Asim
He’s a prince and won’t think twice! He loves you truly, so it has to work! Too bad Jamil stumbled upon you first. Adamantly tries to hide you from Kalim and he feels his headache growing ten times worse. Why did you stupidly get yourself cursed? He asks like you did it on purpose. You didn’t know why the guy cursed you either! Jamil keeps you tucked in his hoodie until he can find time to bring you to Professor Crewel. You tried to fight him at first as you’d rather stay a frog than get detention for something you had no control over, but Jamil knew how to keep a tight leash on the unruly…it was his job after all. Unfortunately for him, Kalim walked into the kitchens right as you hopped out of his pocket. At first he was confused, and then even more confused, and then ecstatic. You hopped over to him, asking for him to protect you from Jamil (who was giving you a major side eye). Then you explained your predicament, and Jamil butted in about bringing you to Crewel. Innocently, Kalim offered to kiss you. No need to bother Crewel if the cure was so simple! Jamil couldn’t stop him in time, as Kalim kissed you the second he finished the sentence. Even Jamil couldn’t hide his disgust for a second at the action. Thankfully, Kalim was your true love as you had transformed back, and he hugged you gleefully. Unfortunately for Kalim, you refused any of his kisses until he rinsed his mouth (lmao).
❥ Vil Schoenheit
Another queen. Best person to go to. He can whip up any cure just as fast as he can whip up any potion/poison. Rook, saw the whole encounter with the other student, and brought you to Vil without a second thought. He already knew everything about the idiot who cursed you so no need to stick around. Vil’s gaze turned into a disapproving stare as he looked at you. Even though Rook tried to stick up for you, dramatizing the whole event as stating how brave you were to face such a curse head on, Vil only shook his head. He motioned for Rook to follow him, not wanting to pick you up. He loves you, really he does, he just can’t afford to get his clothes dirty or stained. He picks the ingredients effortlessly, starting to brew the cure without a second thought. Both you and Rook seemed to want to get on his nerves as you both prattle on about true love and how he should kiss you. He didn’t expect you to be a cheesy sap (he’s lying), besides, don’t you know how many curses list true love’s kiss as the cure? The meaning is pointless. Besides, he doesn’t need some curse to prove his love for you, hasn’t he shown you how much you mean to him already? Or was he lacking, because he didn’t think you’d doubt him. Either way, you’re drinking the cure, he couldn’t risk that your slimy frog skin might make him break out. But don’t worry, if you really have room to doubt his love, he’ll make sure you can’t within the week.
❥ Idia Shroud
Hahaha. Again, are you sure? He’s always holed up in his room, the only chance you're brought to him is if Ortho finds you (or vice versa). At first Ortho found you adorable, cooing at you as he floated to Idia’s room. He thought this was the perfect opportunity to show both you and Idia just how much you care for the other. How could either of you doubt the other if it's sealed with a true love's kiss? It was a brilliant opportunity! (Orthos a little too into this). He barely let his brother welcome them in before barging in and shoving a frog (you) into Idia’s face. At first Idia screeched, falling out of his gamer chair and scrambling away from the amphibian. Was Ortho pranking him? That’s totally uncool, he wasn’t some normie. But then Ortho happily blabbed about you and the curse and then it clicked…YOU WERE A FROG? Now he’s rolling on the floor laughing at you. You’d smack him if you WEREN’T A FROG. After he’s done laughing it up, he then freezes. Ortho wants him to kiss you? B-but that's gross! Who knows what diseases he’ll get if he kisses you. k. Wait, don't go to someone else! Fine, he’ll do it, but he won’t like it. Inside, he’s absolutely terrified. His mind is running a mile a minute. He doesn’t think you’ll actually turn back, someone like him doesn’t deserve true love…so imagine the face he makes when you do. Face a bright red, his hair a bright pink. Oh no, he feels faint. Give him a peck on the lips to finish him off.
❥ Malleus Draconia
Uh oh. Queue the thunder and lightning. Whoever cursed you is the stupidest motherfucker. Malleus is the one to stumble upon you this time, to the disdain of his family. Lilia on one hand wanted to laugh about the situation, on the other, he knew he’d have to protect the stupid human from being smite for cursing Malleus’ love. Silver and Sebek are sweating as Malleus holds you gently in his hands. If he thought you were gentle as a human, he’s being ten times more careful with you in your froggy state. On the outside, he’s silent and brooding, on the inside he’s lamenting on finding you an enclosure where you can be happiest. What type of tank, soil, plants, water…someone please tell him this is reversible. Lilia chimes in before the rain outside can get worse, mentioning true love's kiss is able to reverse the effects. Malleus’ green slitted eyes never move from your tiny form, he finds you absolutely breathtaking even as a frog (this man is down so bad), but he’s nothing but relieved when he hears the news. Human lifespans are already small as is, he would’ve been completely gut wrenching if that time was cut even shorter. Another one who doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. This man would love you if you were a worm. He strokes your moist skin gently as he leaves a small kiss to your adorable head. His entire being, soul, mind and body all belong to you, and if that isn’t true love then I don’t know what is. His eyes shine brightly as you transform back, holding you gently as he promises to protect you from any miscreant that dares even look at you wrong…yeah so the guy who cursed you is still fucked and now you have a protective dragon at your heel 24/7.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#twst wonderland#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar#azul ashengrotto#kalim al asim#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#malleus draconia
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He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.
Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.
Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.
Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)
w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers
a/n: i can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! i wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully i did it justice. thank you for reading!
tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia
“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”
Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.
Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.
Astarion.
Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.
“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”
The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.
“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”
Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike.
Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses.
“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.
Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds.
Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit.
“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims.
“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying.
While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.
“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.
“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest.
“This is a gift, you know.”
He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.
#personal#astarion#bg3#astarion x tav#bg3 fic#astarion smut#astarion x female reader#astarion x you#astarion x reader#tavstarion#my fics#fic: bloodless
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Boundaries? Never heard of them.
Growing up with Theo had desensitized you to things, like how he was always holding your hand, or how he insisted on cuddling anytime you were to sit down on a couch together, or how he would kiss you on the cheek hello or goodbye, except the kiss was hardly on your cheek and right at the corner of your mouth.
Sure, you were aware how the relationship between the two of you was not the average one of two best friends, but you didn't really mind it. You had gotten used to it, it felt weird to even think about things between the both of you being any different.
It was only when Theo got a girlfriend did you realize things would have to change, much to your dismay, and to Theo's too apparently.
"What'd you mean I can't hold your hand anymore?" Theodore looked taken nearly offended as he said those words, his face twisting in confusion and distaste.
"Theo, you have a girlfriend now." You say, wrapping your arms around your middle uncomfortably. "We can't just hold hands all the time, or at all."
He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Next thing I know you're going to tell me we can't cuddle during movie nights or when I sleep over."
"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you!" You exclaim, tired from having to reiterate the same thing over and over. "And from now on we shouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed at sleep overs, if your girlfriend would even be comfortable with us having sleepovers"
"You're being ridiculous, Angel, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
"I'm being serious, Theo, I'm setting boundaries now that you've got a girlfriend, and another thing on that list is calling me Angel." Theodore frowned harder(if that was even possible) looking taken aback by your words and down right offended.
"Boundaries? Not calling you a name I've called you since we were kids?" Theo took a step closer, which was really a problem since he had already been to close to begin with. Now he towered over you more than usual, bringing his hands up he rested them on your neck, his thumbs coming up over your jaw as he held your face close to his. His eyes were narrowed and scanning your face as though looking for something, "Has someone casted a charm on you? Maybe some potion. Either way, you're being weird and I don't like it."
"I'm being weird?! I'm not being weird!" You insisted, and you knew you should shove his hands off you, push him away or take a step back...but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You'd always liked his touch much more than a friend should. "Y-you're the weird one! Thinking we could continue as we are while you have a girlfriend."
"Why would we change anything?" He asked, as though he was truly confused. "I like the way things are between us."
"Well I can't imagine your girlfriend likes the way things are. I'm sure that if I had a boyfriend he wouldn't like how things are." You had mumbled the last part under your breath, an after thought to your previous sentence, still Theo heard it and his confusion and annoyance turned to something darker.
"Boyfriend?" He questioned, his voice low and more gravely that usual. "What's you having a boyfriend got to do with anything? You, you don't have one do you? No boy here is good enough for you, and I wouldn't change my ways for some sleaze like him."
Theos words had been harsh, a sharp edge to them as he spoke, he'd never spoken like that before, at least not to you. It was odd, he seemed mad at the thought of you having a boyfriend, outraged even, the emotions just simmering beneath the surface.
"No, Theo, I don't have a boyfriend," He looked to deflate a little at this, relaxing slightly, "It's not like I could have gotten one anyway, everyone thought we were dating from the way we acted, and it didn't help that you practically growled at any guy that would try to come up to me." You scoff, annoyed but Theo seemed the opposite, his lips quirking up in a small smirk.
"Was that so bad though? It's not like any of them were good enough for your attention anyways." His hands slid from your neck down to your waist as he seemed to pull you closer.
"Look, we're getting off track. We need to set some boundaries." You press your hands against his chest and push him off you gently, he seems to allow this and walks back a few steps before taking a seat on the edge of your bed and staring up at you. You blushed slightly from the way he was looking at you.
Theo groaned and rolled his eyes, "I still don't see why we need those."
"Because you have a girlfriend for crying out loud!" You say, exasperated form having to repeat yourself, "How would you feel if your girlfriend, the girl you like, had a friend that was overly touchy and clingy and borderline cheating on you with him?"
This seemed to stump him, "The girl I like?" He muttered to himself, then his eyes trailed back to you and his jaw clenched. "No...no I wouldn't like that at all."
"See! That's what I mean. That's likely what your girlfriend is feeling about how we are with each other." But Theo didn't seem like he was really listening at this point.
Inside his head, a switch had flipped for him and he realized something. His eyes widening, lips parting, and cheeks heating up slightly and he turned to look up at you through his eye lashes.
"Shit." He murmured, staring at you and his pupils seemed to dilate. It was like he was seeing you in a whole new light, you were as beautiful as you ever were, the same angel he thought you were all those years ago, but now he realized it was so much more than looked with you. And he was stupid to think this was how best friends were with each other.
Really, could he be any more daft? Standing up, he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting it's prey. He didn't stop until he was closer than before, his hands cradling your head on each side and pulling you close.
His face was right above yours, your noses nearly touching and your breaths mingling. "I'm an idiot." He muttered, his eyes getting lost in yours. "A stupid and blind idiot." His forehead dropped down to yours and he closed his eyes. "And I'm sorry."
Before you could register what was going on his lips were on yours, his hands holding your head tightly against his as he kissed you. You had tried your best not to give in, but you couldn't help yourself because it was the one boy you had liked all your life, finally kissing you, and like his life depended on it at that.
So, you kissed him back, arms twining around his neck and bringing him impossibly closer. One of your hands threaded through the hair on the back of his head and you gripped it tightly and he groaned before kissing you harder.
Then, as fast as it had begun, it ended. He pulled away, cheeks blotchy and red and pupils so big you could hardly see the blue green color of his eyes. "I'm going to fix this. Then I'll be right back." He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, "Don't leave." And then another kiss and then he was gone, your dorm door slamming shut behind him as you stood in stunned silence.
A hand lifted to your face and I gently touched your lips, you were sure you looked like a tomato, and your mind was reeling. That wasn't how things were supposed to go...at all.
#imagine#theodore nott#not edited#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n#hogwarts#harry potter#hp fanfic#fanfic
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Yandere shop! Choose your yandere!
I was thinking, did you ever listen to yandere asmr videos? If so, you will catch on quickly that this is based on the yandere shop, which was so popular in asmr videos during the pandemia. - coffee
If you didn’t, quick summary Coffee gave me: imagine if there is a place where you can enter and you can ‘buy’ (they pay you since you are going to take care of a serial killer so he don’t kill people while you two got your twisted love) a yandere of your choosing. - tea
Word count: 1.2k but this will be edited to correct misspellings or weird sentence structure later, sorry in advance.
tw: yandere behavior, willing reader, delulu, written in you/yours, reader is a little nervous but really interested, you can choose humans yanderes and non-human (although humanoid) yanderes!
You fix your clothing and take a deep breath, your mind filled with ‘what if..’ yet, you were here, in a place that you didn’t trust was real
A creak takes you out of your thoughts, a smiling man dressed rather formally, greets you cheerfully.
“Sorry to interrupt when you are so absorb in your pretty mind My dear, but you know, a little push may help you”
He said as he extended his hand to you, well, you already made your way here hoping to get a yandere so you gather all your corague as you take the man's hand. He led inside the shop, you can hear the click of the door closing behind you as you follow him.
“Oh, I hope you weren’t thinking of backing up so quickly Dear, want something to drink?”
You gently shake your shake as you sit down in one of the couches, on the inside it looks pretty much like a coffee shop.
“Smart choice but you still seem rather nervous, want to say something before I go ahead and show you the catalog?”
“Well, I wanted to know, what can you do for the yandere you like to like you back? What if the one I choose doesn't like me back?”
Your worries were met with a not-so-subtly laugh from the man which make you kind of annoyed and embarrassed.
“Sorry Dear, I just never thought I ever meet somebody that feel insecure about the love of a yandere”
Now you wanted to punch him, is a normal question to ask! The yandere have their own way to fall in love!
“Let me give you a quick explanation, if they had a darling, both of us know they would be busy stalking them. The yanderes we have don’t have a darling, but are eager for the sense of love on their own way which may not suit everyone so to avoid problems, this shop was put in place as a matchmaker between differents kinds of yanderes and people who enjoy them"
You sight in relief as you nod.
“alright, who is more likely to go even more insane if they don't get a darling soon.."
"Sorry, what did you just say? I couldn't hear you well"
"Oh, nothing Dear, I was just searching for the ones that been waiting the most, is how the list work, I will show you a few options first so you have an idea, you can ask for another kind if you had something else in mind, I'm sure we got something that will suit your taste; Although, do remember that is just one yandere, we had problems with that before"
"How is it that someone got the permission to have more than one? I thought you guys will keep in track that since well, it's dangerous for anyone"
"She didn't have permission but she manage because she stubbornly wanted a yandere harem, the result are expected, averyone in that house died except for one yandere, he is again on the list, and as you can guess, he end up more being more... intense. He is totally your perfect option if you like a very possessive yandere, he's a more serious yandere for that experience"
“That will be dangerous for me too?”
"Dont worry Dear, he is truly desperate for love like the rest, his name is Dizie. But if you rather a more gentle treat, Gabriel is your guy, I don't know much about him since he said that only his darling will get to know everything about him. As far as I know, he's kind of yandere that will kiss the ground were his darling walk, a worshiper you can say, if you like someone looks at you like you are a deity, he's definitely your perfect match"
“Isn’t every yandere a worshiper in their own ways?”
"Well, I guess? Is true that others have another específic ways to worship, look, he's the baker, relishes in your enjoyment of their pastries, a very skilled baker that knows how to include the most unique of ingredients to make the sweetest of treats, dreams of putting his heart and soul in every treat he bakes for his darling, his name is Oliver”
"What kind of ingredients tho?"
“The next one you may like is actually a popular singer, he chooses to keep anonymous unless chosen, but if you want to be a celebrity or date one, he is someone you can guess that will love to spoil their darling, he’s on the talkative side, if you like art or stuff like that, you will enjoy his house. although he babbles a lot of how he wish to hear the voice of his darling obsessively for hours”
The seller seems to dodge your question.
“Ah, of course, we also have some special yanderes if humans are boring or less attractive for you, look, he’s Myotis, the classic vampire, he even has wings! Isn’t it perfect to see the sky closer while you enjoy the company of a yandere that looks like he just came out of a book? If you are also into short kings, you gonna love him without a doubt”
"He's not going to drain me out of blood, is he?"
“Dear, why would a yandere who waits so long for their darling, kill them? But if vampires aren't your type, you could go for a mothman! You will be the light of his life, literally. He’s a big softie and kind of clumsy; he just eagerly waits for the arrival of his daylight. A good choose if you like special clingy yanderes, he is not around humans too much, but he said he wanted to be called Lior if he got chosen. Oh, if you are on the stronger side, you may want to keep your eye on Tarak, he said something about his name meaning something like star and protector I think, I guess he chose the name by himself, he’s a prideful dragon and really loves to talk, honestly, I’m not that intelligent to understand some things that he say, but if you like to know new things by listening, asking or reading, he's your man, you can try trying to teach him something new, I don't think is impossible to archive”
“You know what ag…”
You stopped talking when you catch a security camera in a corner moving around frantically yet appear like not seeing anything?
“Don’t mind him, is just Grier, even though I don’t know if that's his real name, I do know he loves trying to spy here using the security cameras so we end up having to put tape on them when a darling is coming to the shop; as you can guess, he’s a hacker, if you choose him, you will be very well protected and taken cared of since you gonna be being watched even if you think you are alone, if that what you wish for, please do choose him.”
The seller looks at you, waiting for an answer, to choose what kind of yandere you want or ask for a specific type now.
“You don’t really go outside too much, so I don’t think you gonna have problems with any of them”
You act like you didn’t hear his murmur as you look at the papers in your hand of every yandere he just talked about.
If your favorite options lose or you want something specific, just send an ask! We love comments and interactions in general so don't be shy.
seller post
Sneak peek of the first encounters
Grier post
sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣
images from pinterest ⚘
#tea speaking#coffee speaking#oc#yandere#yandere male#male yandere#yandere oc#yandere x darling#yandere x willing reader#nonhuman#soft yandere#tw yandere#x reader#oc x reader#reader insert#yandere x reader#yandere oc x reader#monster lover#yandere x you#yandere writing#you choose#monster x human#monster x reader#monster x you
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hii! I love your bully!Sevika headcannons sm
what if she finds reader beaten up and on the brink of death in some long forgotten alley one day?
and reader be like: came to finish me off, huh?
𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘! 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀
when someone touches what’s hers
WARNINGS: minor depictions of violence, mentions of abuse, implied power dynamics
from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : anon this was suuuuch a good idea. i put my own little twist on it.
It’d been a long day.
The usual hussle and bussle of the undercity; dealing with the volatile gang ordeals, organizing shipments of Shimmer, cleaning up after Silco’s blue haired mess, and of course getting into close details with Silco himself.
It’d been a very long day.
She would frequent the brothel in her free time, trying on different bodies everytime she went. It was a good detresser— a quick nut after a long day to really end the night right. If not there, she’d be found at the last drop, sipping slowly on brown liquor while she enjoys a few rounds of poker for a bet.
It helped, it did.
But nothing compared to her little plaything.
She’d make it her mission everyday to track down her favorite little target. Her lips always curled into a smirk at the thought of you— shy, fragile, and oh-so-easy to toy with. Hers to provoke, hers to corner, hers to dominate. It was the best stress reliever.
To finally have something to really sink her teeth into. Something to break slowly over time, all in her control. It felt nice to have control. To finally not be under someone’s wing. It was relieving to take out all that anger, all that sadness, every sadistic urge. It wasn’t anything personal, you’d just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But today was different.
She didn’t feel that satisfaction as she navigates through the usual chaos—shouting vendors, the clatter of machinery, and the occasional muffled scream carried through the maze of alleyways. Sevika strode through it all like a storm given flesh, her mechanical arm glinting in the faint light.
The alley was dark, the harsh glow of Zaun's neon lights flickering erratically, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in Sevika's chest. Her boots echoed like thunder as she stormed down the narrow path, her anger a palpable force that crackled in the air. She had just gotten word that someone had beat her property to a bloody pulp.
She rounded the corner, her eyes scanning the scene. There, slumped against a dumpster, was her victim— bruised, bloodied, and barely conscious. Sevika's jaw clenched. Her heart, if she had one, seemed to twist in her chest. There was a flash of fury, and it took everything in her to restrain herself. Her fingers flexed, aching to crush the throat of whoever had dared to harm what was hers.
No one was allowed to lay a hand on her prey except for her.
You were crumpled on the ground, lip split, bruises blooming across your delicate skin. Blood trickled from your nose, staining your collar. You flinched as you tried to sit up, only to let out a pained hiss.
She marched toward you, boots echoing ominously in the alley. You peered up, eyes widening in fear as if expecting more punishment. Sevika crouched down in front of you, her jaw clenched so tightly it felt like her teeth might crack.
“Who the hell did this to you?” Sevika snarled, her voice like gravel, rough and dangerous. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, but there was no one in sight. She knelt in front of you, a hand gently— but possessively cupping your chin, lifting your face.
You stammered, trying to form words, but her sharp glare silenced them, “I said, who. Did. This.”
Her mind was a mess of confusion and rage. She wasn't supposed to care—not about you, not about the bloodstains on your clothes or the way your eyes barely fluttered open. But she did. She did, and it was making her sick.
"I-I don't know... They... they came out of nowhere. I didn't mean to... to make them angry..." You wheezed in a breath, “Why… did you come to finish the job?” You said, a little snarkily for someone in your position. Sevika's gaze darkened, lips curling into a snarl. "Why didn't you fight back?" she growled, as if the idea that you hadn't defended yourself was a personal betrayal. Her concern for your well-being was entirely overshadowed by her frustration that you hadn't done enough to prevent this from happening in the first place.
She wiped away the blood on your face with the back of her hand, not bothering to hide her disgust, "God, you're so pathetic," she muttered under her breath. "I told you to stay close, didn't I? This is why I tell you to stay put." She spat.
"You shouldn't have been here," Sevika hissed, her voice dangerously low, filled with venom. "You shouldn't have let anyone hurt you." She ran her thumb over your bruised cheek, but it wasn't the soothing gesture it appeared to be. It was possessive. Violent. "I should be the only one to do this to you."
It was daunting really, her way of thinking. How dare she? Stomping in here like she cared. Like she actually cared about your well being. Her concern was twisted—contorted into something dark, something dangerous. She wasn't concerned about your safety, your pain. She was concerned about how this made her look. How it threatened her claim on you. This was hers. You were hers. Goddamn it this was the only thing—!
Sevika's anger didn't fade. In fact, it boiled hotter now. How dare you go off and get yourself hurt like this? She had always been there to make you feel small, to bring you down to your knees, to remind you who you belonged to. But this?
This was your biggest show of audacity yet.
Sevika dragged you to your feet, her hands firm but rough. She forced you to meet her gaze, her eyes wild with fury. "Don't you ever let someone else touch you again. You hear me?" she spat, her voice thick with a possessiveness that bordered on madness. "You're mine to hurt, mine to break. No one else gets that privilege." She pulled you close, your battered body cradled against her. In that moment, there was no tenderness, only a suffocating, possessive need.
“But don’t worry,” she murmured, cracking her knuckles, “I’ll make sure they never even think about coming near you again.” Her smirk etched its way onto her face, sharper than ever. “But you? You and I still need to have a talk about how you let this happen.”
Without waiting for an answer, Sevika turned, already plotting how to make an example of whoever crossed the line. You sat there trembling and confused— you could only watch her disappear into the shadows, fearfully thinking of what that ‘talk’ would consist of.
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LYLAAAAAAAAA OMG ILYSM EAT ABD SKEEP AND DRINK WELL!!!
if you don't mind a req, Jihoon (or svt reaction) when he finds how good it feels to use a shower spray against the hoohaa
clit stimulation using shower spray w woozi <33
WARNINGS: situationship!woozi, bath sex, using shower head to masturbate, dirty talk, mentions of body fluids (cum)
it always started like this with jihoon—blurred lines that somehow felt crystal clear when you were with him. like, you knew what it was, but did you really? dude would pass by your place at 10 p.m. like, “you eat yet? i got chicken katsu.” then, five hours later, he’s snoring on your couch, legs tangled with yours, an arm slung over your stomach like he lived there. and yeah, maybe he didn’t outright say things, but actions...oh, he was fluent.
tonight wasn’t any different. except it was.
you were mid-rant to your group chat about some guy hitting on you at the café when jihoon’s name popped up. jihoon: "should i bring dumplings or ramen? heading over." like. no question if you wanted him over; just straight vibes of "you good? i’m on my way."
fast-forward, and somehow, you ended up here—in the shower, your body pressed up against the tiles while jihoon held your leg like he was tuning a guitar. the steam made everything feel hazy, as he rinsed the soapy bubbles from your body.
the shower spray hit your inner thigh, the pressure tracing lazy lines up to places he wasn’t even aiming for. “lift a little,” he mumbled, voice low like the water could hear him. his hand slid behind your knee, steadying you like it wasn’t a big deal, but when that stream hit right at your clit. your breath stuttered, sharp enough to make his brows knit together.
“what?” he asked, head tilting like a curious cat. the fucker.
you shook your head, mortified.
his lips twitched, like he didn’t fully buy it, but he adjusted the angle anyway, aiming higher. too high. a broken moan fell out of your mouth, and your hand flew to his shoulder, digging in like it could stop time. it didn’t.
jihoon froze, the stream still very much pressing where it shouldn’t. “wait.” his tone was careful, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “does that—does it feel good?”
you groaned, smacking your forehead against his collarbone. “don’t.”
“i’m not judging!” he insisted, but the joy in his voice was hella obvious. “just—wait. do you do this by yourself? like, on purpose?”
“oh my god, stop talking.” you could feel your face burning, like the steam was actively conspiring against you.
jihoon chuckled under his breath, this low, knowing sound that made your embarrassment worse. “okay, okay. no answer needed.” he adjusted the spray, the water softening into a gentler stream, but he didn’t let go of your leg. didn’t pull away either.
the shower went silent for a beat, save for the soft patter of water hitting tiles. you thought that was it—mortification over, donezo. until jihoon, of course, had to ruin it.
“so... you want me to keep going?”
your gaze flickered to him, catching the way his eyes softened regardless the sneer tugging at his lips. you bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the water. and then, quietly, like you were confessing to a crime, you mumbled, “mhmm.”
his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction, his smirk deepening. “okay,” he whispered, so gentle it made your chest ache. “just relax, yeah?”
his hand tightened around your thigh like he was steadying himself, except you knew it was for you. the spray hadn’t moved yet, still teasing the edge of your inner thigh, the warm water trailing in lazy streaks down your skin. jihoon adjusted his grip slightly, his thumb grazing the back of your knee.
“you good?” his voice was soft, almost too soft, and when you peeked up at him, his eyes weren’t mocking anymore. he looked focused. calm. it made your chest twist in ways you weren’t ready to deal with.
you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah.”
“okay.” he glanced down, adjusting the showerhead with his free hand, the click of the spray setting sounding far too loud in the intimate quiet of the bathroom. then, like he’d done it a thousand times before, he tilted the stream closer, the water landing in a direct line that made your toes curl.
“jihoon—” your voice cracked, half his name, half a choke, and your body jolted on reflex. the spray circled over your clit, not quite a flick but not soft either, the pressure just shy of overwhelming.
he paused instantly, pulling the water back. “too much?”
“no, no,” you rushed, your hand gripping his shoulder like it was your lifeline. “just—fuck, i wasn’t ready.”
his lips curved into the faintest smirk, a tiny dimple ghosting one cheek. “should’ve said something. i could’ve warned you.”
you grumbled, heat blooming up your neck, he was already moving again, guiding the water in slow circles. it was gentle at first, the warmth rolling over you, but as he shifted his wrist, tilting the angle just slightly, the stream narrowed, honing in on that one spot.
your hips bucked forward, a strangled whine slipping from your throat, and jihoon chuckled low under his breath. “there it is,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. “feels good, hmm?”
you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop talking like he wasn’t wrecking you in the middle of your own bathroom, but the words dissolved into a needy moan as he flicked the stream upward, the water hitting just right. your fingers dug into his arm, and you swore your knees might give out.
“careful,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, his hand sliding to cup your hip as his forearm holds the back of your knee now, grounding you. “don’t go falling on me now.”
“easy for you to say,” you bit out, your voice trembling, but he only hummed in response.
he switched the spray again, this time narrowing it even more, and when he angled it just below your clit, letting the water ripple against you in a teasing rhythm, your head tipped back against the tile. “holy fuck,” you choked, legs trembling.
jihoon’s smirk widened, but his grip didn’t falter. “yeah?” he asked. “you like that, hmm?”
your only response was a broken whimper, and his hand flexed against your hip like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. “relax,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own breath hitched slightly. “just let it happen. i got you.”
you did relax, maybe too much, because the next moment, your leg wobbled, your body sliding just enough to make you panic. but jihoon moved instantly, catching you before you could even process it, his arm locking around your waist while he adjusted the spray back to that perfect rhythm.
“gotcha,” he said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or just satisfaction at the way you melted into him. “thought you were gonna make me work for it.”
you glared weakly at him, your cheeks burning, but it only made him laugh, the sound soft and familiar, grounding you even as your body threatened to unravel.
“don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping as the spray circled again, the pressure building making your vision blur. “i’m not stopping ‘til you’re begging me to.”
jihoon adjusted the spray again, sharper now, the stream jolting directly onto your clit. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. the sound that ripped from your throat wasn’t human, and your body arched against the tile, your back curving like a bowstring pulled too tight. your neck stretched, your breasts lifting as your lungs fought for air, and he didn’t move.
he just watched. studied, really. his eyes darted between yours, flicking from one to the other, then down to your parted lips, swollen and trembling. but then, as if he couldn’t resist, his gaze fell lower, trailing the path of your shivering belly, your chest rising and falling in frantic bursts.
his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you steady as your legs buckled again. the way you shook wasn’t subtle—your entire body was trembling, your muscles pulled taut under his hands. but jihoon didn’t stop. he tilted the stream slightly, letting the water flick at just the right angle again, and the sound that escaped you was downright obscene, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.
“fuck, jihoon—” your voice cracked on his name, and the way his lips twitched into a barely-there smirk made you want to scream for an entirely different reason.
“yes?” he asked, his tone smooth, but his breath wasn’t. it was uneven, shaky, like he was feeling this just as much as you were. “i can feel it—you’re so close.”
he was right. too right. the pressure built and built, your thighs clenching around nothing as your core tightened, heat pooling low in your belly and spilling over. the water, the angle, his goddamn voice—it was all too much.
“hoon, i—fuck, i’m—” the words dissolved into a scream as your orgasm tore through you. your hips jerked forward, your body trembling uncontrollably as the spray kept hitting that same devastating spot. your moans were loud, messy, your breath hitching in sobs as your climax rolled on.
jihoon didn’t move, his hand firm on your waist, keeping you upright as your legs gave out completely. he looked mesmerized, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering between your face and your trembling pussy. “fuck,” he whispered like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.
but the spray didn’t let up. even as you sagged against him, your hands clutching his arms for dear life, the water kept its merciless rhythm, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks. “jihoon,” you whimpered. “s-stop—too much, it’s—”
he blinked out of his trance, his fingers brushing your hip in silent reassurance before he turned the showerhead aside, finally giving you mercy. the sudden absence of stimulation left you gasping.
jihoon’s gaze dropped, and when he saw it—saw the string of your cum clinging to your folds before dripping down to the tile—his breath hitched. it was wet, but wasn’t water; it couldn’t have been. it was too viscous, too familiar. the memory of your taste, sweet and unique flickered in his mind, and he swallowed hard.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#svt imagines#seventeen headcanons#seventeen#seventeen smut#svt smut#woozi smut#woozi fanfic#woozi imagines#seventeen woozi#woozi seventeen#woozi x reader#svt woozi#woozi headcanons#woozi x y/n#woozi x you#jihoon smut#jihoon x reader#jihoon x you#jihoon imagines#lee jihoon#woozi#jihoon
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before he leaves [1]
pairings: prohero! katsuki bakugou, prohero! eijiro kirishima, prohero! denki kaminari x reader (female) summary: your prohero husband is being called away to a two-week long mission. this is how he says goodbye.
notes: fluff, mild suggestive content, established relationship (married), prohero husband, it's just really cute and sweet, I can't say much more.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: for @onlyisaa becuz apparantly putting bakugou in a timeout is unacceptable
Bakugou’s been called in for a mission overseas. It’s rare, but when it happens, you know it’s something serious. The night before, you couldn’t help but fuss over every little detail. You’d double-checked all of his luggage, then triple-checked it. And now you’re pacing around the room with your mind running through everything he might need. You’d gone over his gear so many times that even Bakugou, usually patient with your worry, had enough.
“Damn it, woman,” he grumbled, grabbing you by the waist and physically dragging you to bed. You’d protested at first, but he ignored you, muttering under his breath, “You need to quit worrying so much, you’re driving me crazy.”
Despite his words, there was a softness in the way he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm but comforting. His frustration was just his way of masking how much he appreciated your care. He knew you worried because you loved him, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it. Even as you lay there, you could feel him quietly shaking his head in amusement, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he muttered, "My dear wife, always stressing."
Still, as much as he tried to calm your nerves, there was a part of him that understood. Missions like this didn’t come often, and both of you knew the stakes. And despite the bravado, despite his confidence, Bakugou knew how hard it was for you every time he had to leave.
It’s five in the morning now, and you’re standing by the door, watching as he slips his phone and passport into his pocket. You stifle a yawn, your voice still groggy from sleep. “How long will you be gone again?”
“Two weeks,” he replies gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You frown at his answer. Two weeks felt like forever without him. Did he really have to go? Your thoughts are full of protest, but you keep them to yourself.
“Are you sure you have everything?” you ask again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Bakugou lets out an exasperated groan, his head tilting back as he closes his eyes in frustration.
“Woman, for the last time, yes, I’ve got everything,” he grumbles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flick back to you, softening slightly despite the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not a damn rookie.”
You know he’s right, of course. Bakugou’s meticulous when it comes to preparation, probably more so than you are. Still, the thought of him leaving for two whole weeks on a dangerous mission makes your stomach twist in knots. You can’t help it— it’s in your nature to worry. And Bakugou knows that too.
He glances at you, and for a moment, his stern expression softens even more. He steps toward you, dropping his backpack onto the floor and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, gentler. “I’ve done this a million times. I’ll be fine.”
You nod, biting your lip, but he can see the lingering concern in your eyes. He sighs, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and for a moment, you can pretend he’s not about to walk out the door.
“I’ve got everything, alright?” he murmurs against your hair. “Except maybe for one thing.”
You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”
He smirks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You. But I’ll be back before you know it.”
Does he really have to go?
“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbles, reading your thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. You groan softly and stay wrapped in his embrace. Two weeks without him. His strong, muscular arms, the ones you’ll miss most, tighten around you as you press your face against his broad chest, nuzzling into him with a quiet sigh. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with his familiar scent— the mix of his skin and that faint, rugged cologne you love so much. It’s comforting, grounding, and you cling to it, knowing it’ll be a while before you get to experience this again.
“I’ll miss you.” You softly whisper in his chest to which he chuckles. His arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter.
“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, savouring the comfort of your presence. He’d definitely miss his pretty wife.
You look up, meeting his gaze. His crimson eyes, still soft with sleep, linger on you with that private smile he shows only to you. His sharp features seem gentler in the dim morning light, and for a moment, you both just exist in each other’s company.
Wordlessly, the both of you share a deep kiss. An intimate mix of love and longing. His hand cradles your cheek as your arms loop loosely around his neck. Reluctantly, the both of you pull away. You sigh softly from the loss of contact. He keeps you close as he gazes into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours. The beautiful eyes of his lover.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in one last, tender kiss before stepping back. You pout a little as his arms fall away, but you know he has to leave.
“I love you,” you say, voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.
“I love you too,” he replies.
You watch as he picks up his luggage and heads to the car. Standing in the doorway, you call out after him, your voice echoing through the quiet morning.
“Text me updates!”
“I will!”
“And when you’re on the plane—”
“I know!”
“And call me when you get to the hotel!”
“Dammit, woman, I know!” he yells back, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his tone.
Exactly an hour and thirty-seven minutes later, your phone buzzes with a message from him. He’s reached the airport. Twenty minutes later, another text arrives to tell you that he’s checked in.
Two hours pass, and your phone lights up again with a photo of him and his colleagues on the jet. He looks as sharp as ever, though there’s the usual trace of annoyance in his expression. And next to him were sheepish looking Red Riot and ChargeBolt. His message follows right after: They were late. Typical.
You smile at his grumbling, imagining him sitting there, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Even from thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s right there with you, sharing his usual complaints.
You watch Kirishima stretch in the morning light. His muscles ripples beneath his tanned skin as he works out the tension from his body. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. The broad back you love so much, facing you. Kirishima’s back is adorned with battle scars, each with their own battle-hardened tale. The scars stretch over his powerful frame and you feel rather tempted to reach out to touch them.
As he stretches his arms out to the sides, twisting slightly to loosen up, your eyes skirt over the fresh scratches running along his skin. Scratches you left from the night before. The memory of it stirs something warm inside you, and you can’t help but let a soft giggle escape your lips.
Upon hearing your fit of giggles, he pauses mid-stretch. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk on his lips. "What’s so funny?" he teases, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, but there's an unmistakable playfulness in his tone.
“Just admiring my work.” you comment, referring to the latest addition of scratches on his back. He chuckles softly, replaying the events of last night in his head. It was a rather vigorous night. He needed that time with you, though. With a two-week mission ahead, he already knows how much he’s going to miss you.
He practically jumps back into bed, sweeping you into his strong, muscular arms as if he can't bear to be away from you for another second. His lips find yours in a tender kiss before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, planting soft, fluttery kisses along your skin. His lips trace over the bite marks he left behind last night, a reminder of the intimacy.
For a moment, there's only the sound of your steady breathing and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Then, you break the silence, your voice still soft and hazy from sleep. “Do you have to go?” Your hand gently combs through his messy red hair, and he responds with a low hum of affirmation, his teeth grazing your neck playfully, causing a shiver to run through you.
“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “but I have to.”
He rises slightly, hovering over you, his gaze tender as he takes in your sleepy features. His hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if memorizing every detail. He’s going to miss you—more than he can express.
You're the reason he’s not in the shower yet. The reason he’s still in bed, holding you close instead of gearing up or standing by the door. He’s prolonging every second he has with you, delaying the inevitable because leaving you feels harder than the mission itself. He knows he's late, that he should already be in the shower, getting ready for the mission. His gear should be laid out, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. But here he is, unable to leave your side.
He knows his hero partner will yell at him.
But how could he resist his beautiful wife?
You know he’s running late too, but you don’t care. Shifting up from the bed, you lazily loop your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his warm, broad back. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle into him.
“I’ll miss you,” you murmur, breathing in his familiar scent, already knowing you’ll be raiding his closet the moment he’s gone, wrapping yourself in whatever he leaves behind.
“I’ll miss you more,” Kirishima replies, his voice full of warmth. You can’t see the smile on his face, but you feel it in the way his muscles relax under your touch, the way his words come out soft and sincere.
What time is it? You glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning? He's definitely getting yelled at. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you loosen your grip around him.
“It’s six,” you say, a playful warning in your tone.
“I know,” he groans, clearly aware of the trouble he's in.
“He’s going to kill you.”
Kirishima just laughs softly. “I’ll survive—gotta come back to you.” His words make you laugh, and as you release him, he turns to face you with that toothy grin you’ve always loved.
Just as Kirishima leans in to kiss you, his phone rings, cutting the moment short. A loud groan escapes his lips as he checks the caller ID. He glances at you, a dry chuckle slipping out before he answers.
He doesn’t even need to speak— Bakugou’s voice is already blaring through the speaker, barking orders. You can hear it loud and clear, his usual demanding tone carrying through the room. “Get your ass up, Eijiro!”
Kirishima doesn’t argue, knowing full well Bakugou had already anticipated this. With a quick tap, he ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He knew he brought this on himself, but it’s far too early for all that yelling.
“You heard that, right?” Kirishima asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.
You nod with a soft chuckle, still amused. “Yeah, pretty much. You should clean up,” you hum, playfully nudging him.
He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join me?”
“Eijiro.”
“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, finally getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. His broad figure disappears behind the door, and you roll your eyes fondly, watching him go. As much as he’s procrastinating, you know he’ll eventually get it together—because, at the end of the day, he’s always reliable. Even if he’s late.
Before you know it, Kirishima is already by the door, fully dressed with his suitcase in hand. The image of him shirtless and relaxed on the bed feels like a distant memory as you stand in front of him, sharing one last deep kiss before he leaves. It’s slow and lingering, filled with the kind of warmth that you’ll hold onto while he’s gone. When you finally part, it’s with a soft peck on the lips, and a smile as you watch him step outside.
You wave as he loads his suitcase into the car, and he shoots you that familiar, reassuring grin before the door closes behind him. The car pulls away, and the house feels quieter already.
Two hours pass, and your phone buzzes with a new message. You open it to find an image of a rather grumpy-looking Dynamight, arms crossed and glaring from his seat on the plane. Next to him, Chargebolt is flashing a sheepish grin, holding up a peace sign. You can almost hear Bakugou grumbling under his breath about something ridiculous, probably annoyed with everything around him.
Kirishima’s caption reads: “Already regretting this trip. Look at these idiots.”
You laugh, texting him back quickly, already missing him but feeling a little lighter knowing he's surrounded by his friends and trusted co-workers. He’ll be in your arms again soon.
“Five more minutes.”
Denki mumbles, his voice muffled as he snuggles deeper into your embrace. He’s still in bed, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging like he’s never going to let go. You let out a soft hum as your fingers comb through his messy blond hair, the strands wild from sleep and so uniquely him. His head rests against your chest, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at him—the pro-hero you love so much, completely content in your arms.
But this is also the very late pro-hero.
“You’re going to be late, Denks,” you murmur, your voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.
He grunts in reply, barely acknowledging your words as he shrugs and buries his face even further into your chest, clearly not bothered by the reality of the situation. “Don’t care,” he mutters, his voice rumbling against your skin. He’s warm, cosy, and in no rush to leave. Being tangled up with you is the only thing that matters in the world right now.
You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You say that now, but wait until Bakugou gets on your case for being late again.”
“I’m not scared of him,” Denki just huffs, his arms tightening around you as if to say let him try. You know he’s dreading the inevitable lecture, but right now, he’d rather enjoy every last second with you. And honestly, you’re not complaining.
The two of you lay there peacefully, soaking in the morning light peeking through the windows. You’re already thinking about how much you’ll miss him during his two-week mission. It’s not often he’s called away for that long, but when he is, you understand. That’s the life of a pro-hero. And while the thought of being apart tugs at your heart, you couldn’t be more proud of him for what he does.
“I’ll miss you,” Denki murmurs into your skin, his breath warm against your chest as he looks up at you. His toned arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His electrifying touch trails in soothing circles across your skin, making you feel that familiar buzz only he can give. He sighs softly, like he’s already dreading the distance. At that moment, you realise just how much you’re going to miss the way he holds you. The warmth of his affection that never fails to make you feel safe.
You smile down at him, your fingers still running through his messy blond hair. “What are you going to miss the most about me?” you ask playfully, your tone light, though a part of you genuinely wonders what his answer will be.
He pauses, his gaze drifting downward to your chest, a playful grin spreading across his face. You immediately catch on, rolling your eyes and swatting him lightly on the head. “Denki!” you scold, but you can’t help laughing as the both of you break into soft chuckles.
He rubs the back of his head, still grinning like a mischievous kid caught in the act. “What? Can you blame me?” he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to reset himself.
“Okay, okay,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Real answer now.”
Denki’s lips curl into a smile, but his eyes stay soft, thoughtful. “Everything,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way you smile at me when I walk through the door, the way you run your fingers through my hair like this…” He trails off, propping himself up on one elbow.
Looking deep into your eyes, his usual playful energy is tempered by the sincerity that only comes out in moments like these. “I’m gonna miss the way you make everything feel... normal. Like, when I’m out there, saving the day and dealing with all the hero stuff, it’s easy to forget who I really am sometimes. But with you,” he pauses, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes over your skin, “you remind me that I’m more than just a pro-hero. You remind me that I’m enough, just as I am. That I’m just Denki Kaminari.”
His words make your heart swell, and for a moment, you forget about the two weeks ahead. All that matters is here and now, with him in your arms, holding onto you like you’re the most important thing in his world.
Just then, his phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment. As Denki picks it up, you glance at the screen and catch the time—half past six in the morning. Oh, he’s much later than you’d initially thought. It’s not Bakugou calling, but Kirishima instead. You can hear his deep, concerned voice on the other end, “Dude, get up. He’s already pissed.”
Before the words even fully register, Denki’s already scrambling, bolting upright and pulling on his boxers in a flurry of movement. The sudden shift from lazy cuddles to frantic dressing makes you burst out laughing. He’s rushing so fast that he practically trips over his own feet as he throws open the closet doors, rifling through his clothes in search of something to wear.
“How did you know I wasn’t already out the door?” Denki fires back at Kirishima, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously struggling to put his clothes on. His words are defensive, but the slight panic in his voice gives him away. He’s juggling a pair of pants in one hand, sliding them on while trying to pull a shirt over his head with the other, looking every bit the chaotic mess you love.
You can’t help but chuckle at the scene— Denki hopping around, trying to get his pants on without losing grip on the phone or his dignity. "Because if you were, you wouldn’t be half-dressed and panicking right now," you tease, watching as he stumbles into his shoes, still fumbling with his shirt.
Denki flashes you a sheepish grin, clearly caught, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he finally manages to get his pants on properly. “I was about to be out the door,” he mutters into the phone, knowing full well that no one’s buying it.
“Tell him I’m—” Denki starts as he finds his packed luggage. Thank god he packed the night before.
“Already on your way?” Kirishima cuts in with a laugh. “Yeah, you can tell him that yourself. You know how he gets when we’re late. He’s already chewed me out. Hurry up man or you’re next.”
It’s hard to hold in your laughter at the situation. Denki shoots you a panicked glare as he starts moving out of the bedroom. “I’ll be out in two seconds!” he says into the phone, though both you and Kirishima know that’s a lie.
You shake your head, still laughing softly, as you follow him out of the bedroom. Amused by the whirlwind that is your husband in a rush. He’s darting around the living room, frantically patting down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. The sight is pure Denki— chaotic, yet somehow endearing.
As he’s about to bolt out the door, you catch sight of his passport sitting on the kitchen counter. With a smile, you grab it and walk over, holding it out to him just as he turns in circles, looking confused. “Looking for this?” you tease, waving the passport in front of his face.
His eyes light up with relief. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, leaning in for a quick kiss.
Before he can rush off again, you grab his arm and pull him in for one last peck on the cheek. “Be safe, okay? And text me when you land.”
He flashes you that playful, electric grin, eyes twinkling. “Promise. Love you.” Then, with a wink, he’s out the door, shoes half-tied, practically running to avoid Bakugou’s wrath.
You lean against the doorframe, still smiling as you watch him disappear down the street. Even in his frantic state, there’s something about him that makes you fall in love with him all over again, every time.
Two hours later, your phone buzzes with a message from your husband. You unlock it to find several crying emojis, and you can already feel the laughter bubbling up before you even open the image. When you do, you’re greeted with a snapshot of chaos: a very pissed off Dynamight, glaring daggers at Denki, looking ready to lunge at him. Red Riot is in the background, struggling to hold Bakugou back, his arms wrapped around Dynamight in a full bear hug, clearly doing his best to keep things under control.
Denki’s sheepish grin isn’t doing him any favours either. His expression is simply the statement of "I'm in trouble". You stifle a laugh as you text him back.
a/n: there will be a part two of this with deku, shoto and sero! I only had energy to write these three idiots xP
border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight
© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.
#x reader#bnha#bakugou katsuki#bnha x reader#mha bakugou#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugo katsuki#x female y/n#x female reader#x fem!reader#bakugou x fem!reader#mha kirishima#kirishima eijirou#kirishima x reader#bnha eijiro kirishima#kirishima x you#kirishima x y/n#reader insert#fem reader#denki fluff#denki x reader#mha denki#bnha denki#denki kaminari#denki x y/n#kaminari#mha kaminari#boku no hero academia
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Sunrise.
Chapter 5
Rating: Teen and Up
Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)
Content warnings: None
Comments: English is not my first language. I recommend you to watch the deleted scene where Noa and Mae talk about dreams and the telescope, it's not too important but it gives a tiny little bit of context for a short paragraph in the story. Enjoy!
Anaya woke up in the morning with more energy than usual and went to the main tower to look for his best friend, hoping they could do some climbing later, maybe he could convince Noa to go beyond the valley and explore a little more the ancient Echoes civilizations. However, when he arrived at Noa´s room, he found nothing but his empty litter and Dar, who was just waking up.
“Dar!” Anaya said, feeling a little invasive “Good morning. Noa?”
The female ape yawned deeply and scratch her belly.
“Dar?”
“Oh, Anaya, I don´t know” she said uninterested, yet calm; getting up to start her day.
“You… not worried?”
“Why would I? Noa… old enough. Not a baby. Probably… out”
Anaya left the tower, feeling a little worried. Ever since the kidnapping, he started to feel uneasy, like he should be alert and ready to fight. When he couldn’t find his friends, he felt this tight in his stomach.
“It´s called anxiety” Noa explain when they were settling their home again. Anaya was brave enough to express his feelings to his leader, hoping he could give him a peace of mind “Raka… told me so”
Soon enough, that word had spread like a quick virus among the apes. Everyone was using it. Noa wondered if they were truly anxious from what happened, or if they were just interested in using a new word.
Walking through the village, Anaya found his best friend sleeping next to the horses, with a blanket over his head, covering him from the sun.
“Noa! What are you… doing?”
The leader woke up and rapidly sat. He looked around him and spotted Anaya looking down on him like he was crazy. Maybe he was.
“What?”
“Why are you here?”
“Oh, not reason” Noa answered, feeling shy and oddly embarrassed. His friend gave him a look “Okey, I was out… all night. When I came back… to tired to go up. Sleep here”
Anaya looked confused.
“Where?”
“Uh… to the lighting dancers’ field”
“What?!” Anaya screamed with excitement, Noa hushed him with his hand and took him to a more private place, just a few meters away from the village.
“Who is… the lucky one?” the eldest asked.
“What?”
“You know”
“I do not”
“Noa. Romantic place. Take girlfriend” Anaya was too excited at this point, giggling and jumping around his friend, happy to be the first to know the details of how the date had gone.
“No, Anaya, it wasn´t… like that” Noa sighed mildly annoyed. Kind of disappointed.
It had been just a sweet moment between Mae and him, it wasn´t a mating ritual, nor a proposal. It was just a night out with a girl he cared about and wanted to show her something nice and pretty.
He didn’t want anybody to think he was trying to marry Mae (´cause he was not). That would be weird. An ape and an animal, getting together? Now way. That was just unnatural, wasn´t it? It would be like marrying a horse. “Except it would not be like that, and you know it” Noa thought. “She has the same features as you. Apes and human… we are not that different” Except they kind of were “But she is smart. She is not like those animals”
“It was just a nice walk”
Anaya snorted at his answer, like it was an obvious lie.
“With… who?”
Noa wondered if he could trust his friend, in a normal situation he would, but Anaya had imagined a whole scenario about a mate and a proposal, he didn’t want him to get his ideas twisted.
“Mae”
The ape stood in silence. The leader couldn’t figure out his expression. It was a mix between shock and something else, maybe fear?
“But I told you… it wasn’t like that” Noa tried to explain, his voice sounded nervous, and he knew that it seemed like he was lying “Really. The Echo never saw the dancers before”
The silence was getting unbearable, he needed to get out of there soon. Acting annoyed and angry, Noa pushed lightly Anaya to the side and started to walk towards the village.
“Wait” Anaya said, “Did she… like the lights?”
Noa turn around and looked at his friend, a kind smile was growing in his face. Noa tried to give him the same gesture, but the anxiety was just too strong.
“Yes, she liked the lights”
“Enjoyed the night? Both”
“Yes, it was nice”
Anaya walked towards his best friend, with open arms and a sympathetic smile, ready to hug the other ape.
“Then… that is all… that matters”
---------
It was a chilly night, not cold, but Mae felt the need to get a blanket to covered herself from the wind. She was getting goosebumps and a slightly runny nose.
She was with a group of apes, sitting in a circle and just telling stories and legends, some were made up and some were real things that happened in the village a while ago. The human was sitting next to Soona and Case, listening to a semi old male ape talking about the time he saw a creature bigger than a horse, with big paws and very fat. He said it attacked his wife, but fortunately they made it to the village and loose the animal on the way. The other apes were making fun of his story, saying he was probably making all up.
Mae supposed the beast he was talking about was a bear, but she stayed silent. She didn’t know exactly why she felt so scared revealing more stuff about the world to the apes. Except she did know.
She was terrified of them sometimes. She could see how they were improving their speech, at least Noa. Mae tried to fake an ape way of speaking, but it was very difficult to pretend and not let difficult words come out of her mouth. It was easier to stay silent. And the reason? She felt like she was teaching them human ways. And that felt like a nightmare came true. Mae saw the evolution among the apes. Spreading.
She learned to be around them, to joke and live a simple life surrounded by the apes. But she felt like crossing a line when it came to “teach” them.
They learned fast. Noa was the fastest. She remembered their conversation at the fire camp when they were after Proximus, how the ape asked about what they saw inside the telescope. She lied and said she didn’t know. Because she was too scared to talk about things only humans on earth knew about.
That same night, she observed Noa, fixing the electric weapon. She was terrified.
“Cold?” said a male voice behind her. It was Noa, holding a blanket in his hands.
“Yeah, a little” Mae answered. The ape sat beside her, squishing between her and Case.
The female ape rolled her eyes and move next to Soona so Noa wouldn’t suffocate her.
Instead of giving Mae the blanket, the male wrapped it around her shoulders. The human girl stood still.
“What are they talking about?” the leader asked in a quiet voice, so he doesn’t interrupt the story telling.
“About everything” Mae said “That old ape saw a beast one time. Nobody believes him”
“Oh, the big paws monster?” Noa snorted.
“Have you heard his story?”
“Yes, he tells it all the time” Noa took a peach from his little bag and started to eat it. Mae noticed how he only eats with his mouth close now. Something he must have learn from the human girl.
“Do you not believe him?” Mae inquired with a rise eyebrow.
“Nobody does”
“Maybe we could—” the girl was interrupted by a different ape, pointing direct at her.
“Okey everyone! Maybe it´s… time… for the Echo… to tell a… story”
Some apes were exciting to hear what the human had to say, while others stayed silent, cautious.
“Oh, I… I don´t really have a story”
“Everyone has a story” Noa said with a grin, he was enjoying watching Mae get embarrassed.
“Can it be made up?”
“Of course”
“Well, uh… there is this story” Mae started “It was very popular in my home. Every kid knew about it. It´s about a princess, well, she wasn´t really one—”
“What is a… princess?” an ape asked from the opposite side of the circle.
“Uh… they used to rule kingdoms—”
Everyone started to murmur, scared, fresh memories of Proximus and the kidnapping.
“But they were nice kingdoms, they were gentle and kind, and showed mercy” That was a lie “Anyway, she was not really a princess, she was just a girl who worked really hard to get what she wanted. On the other hand, there was this boy, who was actually a prince. So, this prince gets turned into a frog by an evil man, and only a true love kiss could turn him back into a human. Then, this girl, found the frog and became very fond of him, they kissed, and the prince turned back into a human, they were happy after that”
There was a moment of complete silence, Mae held her beath, not knowing what to do or expect. Then, a whole lot of questions were asked, all at the same time, the girl tried to answer all of them, without revealing too much or making them confused. That wasn’t the whole story, she skipped a lot of details, but she knew the apes wouldn’t understand the concept of magic or human customs.
“How were… the princess?”
“They were beautiful girls with castles”
“The frog… talked? Like you?”
“Yes, he did. That is how they got to know each other”
After a whole bunch of questions, Noa noticed Mae getting overwhelmed, so he called it a night and send everyone to sleep.
He accompanied the Echo to her room, stopping at the door.
“Goodnight Mae. That was a good story” he said with a smile.
“Thank you”
“Sleep, princess”
#kingdom of the planet of the apes#mae#noa x mae#planet of the apes#fanfic#kotpota#noa and mae#soona#anaya
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Buried in a Book | R.L.
summary: While you were part of the biggest friend group in Hogwarts, you’re often in your own world to even register the plans they make.
pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader
includes: remus being the best boyfriend in the entire world, reader feeling a little insecure, reader’s last name is rawlings (no, i didn’t realize how close it was to rowling until later 😞)
a/n: someone spam message me to finish my coryo series please 😭🙏
One of the best things about being in Gryffindor were the people you made friends with. From rule-breakers — such as James and Sirius — to heavy rule followers — Lily Evans herself — it was so diverse. You could throw pranks with the marauders while being a prefect. By the end of sixth year, the group was tight knit and it seemed as if nothing could ever ruin it.
But there was one thing they would typically forget about with their rambunctious nature. They always forgot about you in their plans. It wasn’t as if they did it intentionally. No, it was because you were always off in your own world, and when they made plans you didn’t hear them. Usually one of the girls would tell you, or your loving boyfriend, but you felt awful every time.
Today was no exception.
Sirius and Marlene made plans to Hogsmeade during breakfast for the weekend. And of course the rest of the group seconded that call and hurriedly ate their food to prepare for the trip. Being oblivious to everything that was happening, you continued to read your novel until Remus cleared his throat as a small warning.
Hearing this, you put a finger to your last sentence and looked up at him, eyebrows knitting up in confusion at the lack of noise coming from around you. “Where did they all go?”
“They made plans for Hogsmeade about…” He looked down at his watch, tapping it softly. “… Five minutes ago.”
He stacked the plates surrounding their area, your eyes watching his movements in silence. You thought you were listening to them this morning, but the last thing you heard before you got fully immersed was the next prank Sirius wanted to pull on Severus Snape.
Frowning, you carefully put your bookmark into your book and leaned your head on Remus’ shoulder, voice coming out quiet. “I didn’t realize.”
Remus wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple for assurance. “It’s okay, dovey. You were so invested in your book that I didn’t want to bother you.” He gently helped you up from the bench and pulled your closer to him, his slender fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder. “Besides, I get to have quality time with my best girl.”
A soft smile graced your lips at his comment, but a small part of your mind was eating at you. What if they were talking about something important and Remus wasn’t there to tell you about it? You guessed the girls would, but you would bet they would forget to tell you before you realized they left you.
“Is there anyway specific they asked us to meet then?” You murmured as you entered the Gryffindor common room where only a young first year was sitting by the fire and reading a muggle book.
“I think we both know the answer to that.” He played with the ends on your hair as he pulled around to face you properly. He twisted the ends and watched them unfurl until meeting your eyes.
You looked up and shook your head in amusement as you both said “The Three Broomsticks” at the same time. You scrunched your nose and smiled again when he kissed your forehead as a short parting gesture.
By the time you left the common rooms and made it to The Three Broomsticks, they were just leaving, causing another wave of guilt pass through you.
“There you two are! We were wondering when the both of you would make it.” Sirius pushed in between the both of you to wrap his arms around yours and Remus’ shoulders. “You guys missed out on Evans chugging down her butterbeer because Dorcas dared her.”
You blinked and looked over to Lily in surprise, but the wave of guild began to crash again. “Oh, that must’ve been interesting.”
“Very.” He nudged your side softly before noticing how weary you looked. “You okay there, Rawlings?” His voice got quiet and leaned closer to you. “You and Moony didn’t… You know?”
“Godric, what is wrong with you?” You push him away and dust the invisible dirt off your side. “No, I didn’t realize you guys left us so we went back to the common room before coming here.” You roll your eyes and trudge into Honeydukes with a frown on your face.
“Just a question!” Sirius called after you and look toward Remus instead. He gave him an unimpressed look and peeled Sirius’ arm off of him, raising a brow at the man. “She knows I was joking, right?”
“She does, but she’s not in the mood.” Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius as well before following your steps into the candy-filled store. “And for your information, the time span between leaving us and coming here wouldn’t give us enough time to make it satisfactory.”
Sirius creased his brows in confusion before gaping at his best friend. He looked back at James in shock before watching Remus enter the store with a smirk on his face. “Never in my entire life have I heard Remus John Lupin talk about his game like that.”
You watched young wizards and witches mess with the candy from the corner of Honeydukes, fiddling with your own sweater. Well, technically it was Remus’ but he gave it to you sometime last year. But as you played with the loose thread, the same guilt came back to gnaw on your feelings.
It was fine when it was only you missing out on the unplanned fun, but when Remus misses out on fun that he could’ve seen made you upset beyond belief. You didn’t think your own behavior could affect Remus this badly. And it’s not like Sirius helped when he asked about you and Remus.
“Dove?” Remus rounded the corner and found you biting the end of your thumbnail, making him sigh. He gently pulled your hand away and met your eyes. “What’s wrong, dovey?”
“Nothing.” You mumbled, wiping your hand on your sweater. You grimaced at the feeling but looked at Remus with solemn eyes. “Where’s the rest of them?”
He laced his hand with yours, squeezing it softly. “They went to Tomes and Scrolls. I think they’re buying gifts? I’m not to sure.”
You frowned, “When did they say that?”
“They didn’t. They were just heading in that direction when I left them.” He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles. He watched your glazed eyes blink to get rid of the wet. “Talk to me, my love.”
You raised both brows at the name and felt your face warm. It was rare for him to call you his love, so everytime it made you feel like a child in a candy store, which was technically half true given the setting.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of annoying I zone in and out of our conversations with that whole group?” You finally spoke after a good second, fiddling with his fingers in anticipation for his answer. “We never get to do anything fun or on time because of me, and I’m not too sure why you still bother with me because of it—“
“Dovey,” Remus gave you a small smile, tilting his head down fully to speak only loud enough for you. “Do you really think I care what we miss with them? As long as I have you with me, I couldn’t care less.”
You gently squeeze his hand, “Don’t you want to hate me just a little bit?”
“Never.” He kissed your head. “Why would I ever hate you for your quirk? I think it’s cute that you get to immersed in your own world when reading. And you know why I love it so much?”
“Why?” You smile and tilt your head up to perfectly meet his own tilted head.
“Because then I get to hear all about what happens from your beautiful voice.” Remus grinned his wolfish grin, adjusting the sweater you have on. “So don’t worry too much about me missing out on those pricks because they don’t talk about anything worthwhile.”
You roll your eyes and let out a noise of surprise when he softly connects his waiting lips to yours. Instantly, you melt and return the kiss with equal passion before breaking apart, smiling giddily at him.
“What was that for?” You lay your cheek on his shoulder as shyness took over your body, especially with so many people around you both.
“Just love you.” He thumbed your waist now, nudging his chin onto your head softly. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms
#august’s works 🫧#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#remus x you#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin angst#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin fic#remus lupin headcanon#remus lupin hc#remus lupin hurt/comfort#harry potter x reader#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin my beloved#remus x y/n#remus fanfic#harry potter#harry potter x you#marauders#marauders x reader#the maraunders map#marauders x y/n
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My Charming Red Savior [2]
・❥ Two odd visitors and a mugging. Can’t you stay out of trouble?
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |
x: he’s back!! a little longer this time, 8k words. enjoy!
That evening after meeting Alastor, you sat at your friend’s dining table, your mind racing.
Your finger aimlessly twisted that gold ring he had magically placed on your digit, as you explained what happened. The creep harassing you, Alastor swooping in to save you. All of it laid out for your friend to digest. Which she wasn’t taking it very well.
“I mean, I'm glad that demon helped you out of that, but you should have gotten away as soon as possible! Haven’t you heard what he’s done, what kind of deals people have made with him?”
You sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with your friend's skepticism. "Look, I get it, you're worried. But Alastor isn't what everyone makes him out to be. He helped me when I needed it most. Besides, who are we to judge someone solely based on rumors?"
Your friend leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the ring adorning your finger. "What about that? What if it's some sort of trap he set for you?"
You instinctively pulled your hand back, a protective gesture. "Don't be ridiculous. Alastor wouldn't do something like that. He's... different."
"Different? More like dangerous," she countered, reaching out to grab your hand. "Come on, let me see that ring. We can take it to someone to see if it’s been magically altered."
Dangerous? He saved you from someone dangerous! Yes, he was a demon. A sinner, who probably did some bad things, and most likely continues to do bad things. Except, for the fact he didn’t leave you, a defenseless nobody, to be taken off and.. you couldn’t even think about it.
You jerked your hand away from her hand, the ring glinting in the lamplight. "There’s nothing wrong with the ring, you’re just being paranoid. It’s.. comforting, actually."
Your friend sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Please, at least consider what I'm saying."
You softened, realizing she was only looking out for you. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions."
Your friend relented after a moment, sinking back into her chair. She nodded slowly, agreeing with your statement.
At that moment, your friend’s husband had entered the room. A large pot of steaming foodstuff in his oven-mitt protected hands as he walked.
“I hope you guys are hungry!” He said cheerfully, the tension in the room easing with his upbeat demeanor. You quite liked him, he had some good jokes and cared about those around him.
You smile gratefully, welcoming the distraction from the intense conversation. “Absolutely starving,” you reply, grateful for the opportunity to shift the focus to something more light-hearted.
Your friend’s husband sets the pot on the table, filling the room with the delightful aroma of home-cooked food. “Well, dig in!” he encourages, serving everyone generous portions.
As you take a bite, the flavors dance on your palate, and your eyes light up as you eat.
“What is this?” You turn to her husband, who looked up from his bowl, face stuffed with food.
“Crawfish Étouffée! A popular dish from New Orleans, back on Earth. Do you like it?”
You nodded vigorously. Is this what Jambalaya tastes like? If so, you really needed to try it. Maybe, you’d see Alastor again, and he could give you that recipe he had mentioned?
As your thoughts drifted back to the red demon, your finger began to twist the ring around your digit once more. Why did it bring you such comfort? You had no idea.
Sometimes, if you put your hand to your face, you could smell faint traces of his scent, that you had first memorized when you walked side by side with him. It smelled like an old cologne, something that you couldn’t quite recognize from your days. Maybe, it was back when he was alive?
Lemony, hay-like and grassy. A whiff of licorice. Something peppery too? You couldn’t quite place it. But every deep inhale sent you into a lull. A trance, almost.
Your finger still mindlessly caressed the golden band a while later, during the early hours of the morning. You had been sweeping the front doors to the formalwear store you worked at, tidying up before it would be opened for customers.
It wasn’t until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, did you get pulled back into reality.
“Pardon me, miss. Are you guys open?”
Turning around to address the voice, you find no one. It wasn’t until you looked down did you see the demon man. He resembled that of an imp. Dark red skin with thin, striped horns that peaked out of the top of his head.
He wore a white turtleneck, with long white hair that curled around his chin. His eyes were unreadable, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They were Ray-Burn glasses. You could immediately tell from the bridge, which were curved to resemble a half-circle rather than an oval.
You also knew how high-end that brand was, and it wasn’t easy getting a pair either. The wait for those was no joke. And, this style was from their newest collection, which meant that he had to be of some importance to get one so soon.
His posture also struck you as odd, especially for an imp. He stood tall, shoulders back, head held high. Despite being a part of one of the lowest social classes in Hell, the demon regarded everyone and everything around him with an air of confidence and assertiveness.
It was also odd that he was wearing sunglasses so early in the morning, there wasn’t really much light to need protection from. Maybe he had some bat genetics in him?
You smiled at him, but shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed right now. You’ll have to come back later.”
The imp visibility deflated at your words, a frown etched on his face. You could see his eyes through the shades just enough to show them flicking down the streets.
“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I guess. Thanks, I'll just.. have to figure something else out.”
He backed away, as he scanned the nearby stores again. He muttered to himself, too quiet for you to hear, but his tone sounded scolding. As if he was berating himself. The demon bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something.
A pang of sympathy hit you, as you watched him become more anguished. It seemed like he really needed whatever was inside, and you didn’t have a reason to deny him business other than to follow the official hours of operation.
Placing the broom against the brick wall, you pulled out a set of keys. The demon turned slightly as he heard its jingle, and you met his shaded gaze.
“There isn’t really anything else I need to do before opening though, so I suppose it’s not a big issue letting you inside.”
The imp perked, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. You bent to turn the lock with a click. Pulling the door handle, you pulled it behind you, allowing the demon to follow you inside.
“That is so kind of you! Truly, you don’t get to meet many kind and considerate people in this place.”
Well, it was Hell. Being friendly to strangers was not a common occurrence. You just weren’t one of the, well, bad ones. Sure, you had some flaws, you weren’t a resident for no reason. But, you prided yourself in having a reasonable moral code.
“Don’t worry, I know what I need. I’ll be quick!” The imp promised, as he passed through the entryway. The large room was dark, besides the morning light casting through the windows.
You flicked on the lights, and the overhead lamps lit the interior of the store. There were mannequins lining the dark-blue walls, styled in different tuxedos and dress shirts. Next to them were rows of shelves, each specific to a type of garment. There were dress pants, vests, shoes, and smaller accessories like ties and belts.
As you walked behind the black-granite countertop, the imp had hurried over to a mannequin facing out of a glass display. He reached down near its feet, a small shelf lifted from the floor. A pile of red suits was neatly tucked next to the display.
Gingerly, he lifted to the top piece, examining it thoroughly. After a few moments, he brought it closer to his chest, before turning to you. Your hands tapped against the display of the digital cash register, readying it for service.
You looked up just as he placed the garment on the counter, your eyes scanning the suit. Strange, he was still wearing those shades. You simply smiled at him, before pulling the item closer to you. Carefully, you unfolded it, examining its form.
It was a beautiful red tuxedo, with golden lapels. Dark-red buttons, with white cuffs. It was a women’s suit, which was rare for you to see, since the store mostly marketed towards men.
“What a wonderful piece!” You exclaimed, your tone dripping with customer-satisfying professionalism. “Getting this for a special someone?”
The imp nodded. “For my daughter. She runs a hotel a few blocks away, up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel, if you've heard of it? She needed a new suit, and this was the perfect fit.”
The hotel that was supposed to help sinners with redemption? You’ve heard bits and pieces, mostly when you watched that disastrous interview with Katie Killjoy. You couldn’t recall who ran it, though.
“A little, but you sure do have an eye for style!” You nodded, grabbing the small tag from the sleeve to input the information into the register.
“Well, it was my sweetheart who picked it out first,” the imp gushed, “I can’t take all the credit, I'm not good at these sorts of things, anyway.”
“Do they have a background in fashion?”
“No, they’re an artist,” the demon beamed, his voice growing softer as he spoke of his lover, “I can promise, you’ve never seen a real painting until you’ve seen theirs. If it were my way, I'd fill every billboard with them, instead of those.. repulsive pornography ads they have downtown.”
The imp held a look of pride and admiration as he spoke, obviously having full confidence in his claim. You pulled up the item on your screen, and read him the price. It was not a cheap suit, but the demon had no reaction to the total and simply pulled out his wallet.
“Is business running smoothly at the hotel? Do you guys get a lot of guests?”
The imp contemplated for a moment, before pulling out a large sum of money, placing it gently on the counter. You reached for it, before licking your finger and counting through the bills.
“Not entirely. It just opened recently, and, with the demons it caters to? Hah, there’s not many around here with the mindset of redemption. But, I'm going to be helping her out, supporting her with the work.”
What a nice father, helping his daughter out like that. If only someone like that had helped you when you were younger, maybe you would be stu-
“Especially when it comes to keeping an eye on some of the.. colorful characters she calls staff. Like that Radio Demon.” As the imp spoke, you could hear the disdain in his tone, as he uttered that name. Your head shot up from the bills in your hand at his words.
Radio demon? Alastor? Alastor was working at the Hazbin Hotel?
“As in, the tall red guy with deer antlers? Carries a staff around with a microphone on it?” You questioned him, excitement lacing your voice.
“Yes. Do you know him? Word of advice, stay away from that demon. He’s nothing but a self-serving, pompous show-off.”
That couldn’t be true, could it?
Quickly, you placed the bills into the cash register, pulling out change to hand to the imp. As he took the money in your hand, you found it right to defend Alastor.
“He helped me out of a tough spot awhile ago, practically saved my life, actually.”
The demon regarded you for a moment, eyebrows raised as he took in your words. He didn’t argue, seemingly trying to leave as fast as possible. Back to the hotel presumably. “Hmph. Well, just be careful, you never know with demons like him.”
You were about to wish him farewell and turn away, before his hand lifted once more. Looking down, he held another stack of money in his hands, you could faintly read ‘100’ on one of the bills alone.
“For your kindness,” the demon stated simply, giving you a wink, “I enjoyed our short chat, there’s not many people down here I'm interested in talking to. Go treat yourself.”
Your eyes widened at his words. How did he have so much money he could just.. give it away?! You almost wanted to reject his offering. But, money was money, so you took them from his grip.
“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you! This is very generous of you.”
He only shrugged, sending you a charming smile. “I am indeed a very generous person. Just don’t spend it on drugs, or anything like that.”
As you handed him the small pink bag, his shaded gaze landed on the ring on your finger, and he leaned in just an inch to get a closer look.
“Boy, that is a fine piece of jewelry you’ve got there! Very nice, was it from a lover? It really makes a statement! Just curious.. do you by any chance know where you got it from?”
You tilted your head, wondering why he wanted to know, was he planning on getting one himself? You just shook your head, you couldn’t really tell him it magically poofed onto your finger by the same demon he held negative feelings for.
He nodded, muttering something like ‘that’s fine’, before pivoting away from you towards the door.
“Adios!” He called, a hand in the air in farewell as he strolled to the exit. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind him, and you saw him step near the curb, away from your view.
Suddenly, a flash of gold illuminated the small window on the door. Crossing the room, you peeked out the large display window. There was no one on the street, even when you cranked your head to both sides of the street. It’s like he just.. vanished. Strange.
You flipped the large sign on the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ before returning behind the counter. Your fingers still holding the money he gave you, your mind elsewhere as you waited for the day to begin.
Your thoughts were still on that encounter when the assistant manager walked up to you a few hours later. He was a rather short, plump man with small horns protruding from his head. His skin was a pale blue, his figure resembling that of an ox. Alan was his name.
You weren’t very fond of him, he always threw flirtatious comments and jokes at you. Always insisting to join you behind the counter, or lean right over your shoulder when you worked. He reminded you too much of that creep from the streets, which made you uncomfortable.
What was up with you always attracting the questionable suitors? Maybe your friend at the cafe was right, you weren’t going to find ‘The One,’ you’d just have to settle for less.
Alan would always try and pry into your personal life, asking if you had a lover, or kids. You’d simply change the conversation as smoothly as possible. If you told him we’re single, he’d no doubt try and court you. Which made you nervous, he didn’t seem like someone who could take a rejection.
You weren’t able to say, ‘why yes, I have a hubby of my own!’ because you never had proof. Without a ring, and the rest of your co-workers aware of your singlehood, you knew lying to him would have consequences.
Not to mention, he was your boss. He had power, and unless you wanted to end up homeless on the street, you had to keep a friendly facade with him.
Luckily, he wasn’t around much. Except today your manager had meetings out of town, and he was the substitute. So, for now, you were stuck with him.
“Hey, you still know how to use that sewing machine in the back, right?” He asked you after you had finished assisting a customer near the large display window.
You nodded, curious about his question. In truth, being a tailor sounded much better than working for customer service. You had spent late nights slowly practicing the craft, on that ancient sewing machine in your basement. Maybe, you’d use that money the imp gave you to buy a new one.
“Well, Darlene just called in, which means I got no one as my seamstress. We’ve got a few pieces in need of mending, you think you can handle that?”
“Oh, sure! I can do that, no problem.”
It was then you heard the bell above the front entrance jingle slightly and the creak as the door opened, which caused you to turn sharply to greet the newcomer. Except.. there was no one there.
That was strange. There were other customers milling about, but you were standing in a position that made it impossible to miss anyone exiting the building.
“Must be having strong winds or something.” Alan remarked, and you turned back to him. As you moved, you noticed the corner next to the doorway was more shaded than usual. As if a large black shadow had taken residence there. Perhaps an overhead light went out? You’d have to check on that later.
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Alan started, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he lowered his voice, “I’ve got VIP access to a new club that just opened a few blocks down. I was thinking you and I could get some drinks and have a little fun, whatcha say?”
You groaned internally. Not this again. How were you going to say no this time?
��Well, I mean, um- you see the thing is…”
Your eyes went down to the ring on your digit, that little A shimmering in the light. Maybe, you could use this.
“… I’m already taken!” You exclaim, your hand shooting up to give Alan a front row seat at the prize on your person.
“You are?” He asked incredulously.
“Mhm!” You nod your head vigorously. “As you can see, this is my wedding ring. I eloped not too long ago, hence why it’s not common knowledge.”
Hopefully, he would buy your lie.
Alan stood there, his eyes flicking from you to the ring. Was he going to try and fight your claim? It seemed like he wanted to. Before you even gave him the chance to, you whipped towards the door being the counter to start mending.
You had only used the machine in the back a handful of times, but you were trying to become more familiar with it. Nodding, you quickly slipped into the back room. The hum of the old sewing machine greeted you like an old friend as you fired it up and began to mend the pieces in need of repair.
The rhythmic clacking of the needle against fabric filled the air as you lost yourself in the task at hand, the radio beside you playing soft old-timey melodies in the background. You continued this calm pace for a few hours, thankful to be away from Alan and the bustling state of the store.
Until a familiar static-laced voice broke through the music.
“Hello, sir! My, what a hellish morning it is!”
Your foot instantly moved off the pedal nestled under the table, the vibrations from the machine ceasing as it stilled. You strained your ears, is that who you thought it was?
“Oh, why hello there! How can I assist you today?” You heard the loud, boisterous voice of Alan as he welcomed the newcomer. Quickly, you left your seat, and peaked through the small crack in the doorway.
Your breath quickened as your eyes landed on the tall, red demon. Alastor. How did he get in here? You didn’t hear the loud bell jingle at his entrance.
He sported his usual red coat, with his staff resting lazily in his grip as he stood before the demon. He had a large smile on his face, but his eyes spoke differently. He looked absolutely bored, disinterested in the man before him and his surroundings.
“I’m simply here to adjust some wear-and-tear on my suit,” he remarked, “as you can see, my sleeve has taken quite the nasty wound.”
He lifted up his arm, displaying a tiny piece of missing fabric from the cuff. It was a clean slice, as if someone had taken a knife and barely nicked it. Nasty wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it, more like itty bitty.
“If I may..” Alan leaned in slightly, reaching out to inspect the tear.
Alastor only pulled his arm back, rejecting the gesture with a subtle yet firm movement.
“I prefer to handle my own attire, thank you,” Alastor stated, his voice carrying a hint of disdain as he withdrew his sleeve from Alan’s reach. His smile widened further, as he stared at the demon.
Your boss recoiled slightly, taken aback by Alastor’s abrupt refusal. “Oh, of course. My apologies,” he stammered, attempting to regain her composure, “but not to worry, sir! We’ve got fabrics that match and a seamstress to do the work. Let me go grab her for you, I'll be right back!”
You saw Alan turn in your direction, and you backed away from the door. Your heart raced as you realized you were going to actually be face to face with Alastor again. How would he react to your presence?
You shot into your seat, spinning around towards the machine. You stepped on the pedal, and the machine hummed to life once more. The door opened, and Alan poked his head in.
“Hey, there’s a customer who needs some assistance. Get out here.”
His head disappeared from view, leaving you alone once more. Exhaling a large breath to ease your nerves, you rose from your seat. Quickly, you walked over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. Another deep breath, and you pulled it open gingerly before taking a step outside.
Your boss was back beside Alastor, who towered over the man. As you slowly entered the room, Alastor’s eyes moved to you. They lit up with interest, the smile seeming to shrink slightly. The crooked edges on his smile softened too, appearing more genuine as he regarded you.
“Ah, there you are, my dear! I was hoping to find you here.” Alastor called to you. He stepped right past Alan, completely ignoring his presence as he strode up to you.
As he closed the distance, you became awfully aware of how fast your heart was beating inside your chest. That smell of lemons and licorice hit your nose as he stood before you, and it eased your nerves as you took a quick inhale of breath.
He turned, allowing Alan to see both of your faces as he slowly reached out to take your hand. His thumb gently grazed against the gold band and it spun slightly. Your breath hitched at his touch.
“It is so nice to be able to visit my dear wife at her place of work,” Alastor started, his gaze shooting to Alan as he spoke, “and, to meet her lovely coworkers! A pleasure indeed.”
Did he hear you telling Alan about your ring? He couldn’t have, but there seemed to be no other reason for him to bring up the whole marriage farce.
Alastor turned back to you, finger still softly caressing your hand as he turned his attention to his sleeve.
“It appears I’ve gotten into another miscommunication with an overly confident adversary, similar to what I spoke to you about before. Would you care to assist me, my love?”
Your eyes momentarily snapped to Alan, who had turned a paler shade as he watched Alastor’s actions. Now, he was finally seeing who your ‘husband’ was. It appeared to be quite a shocker for the demon.
Your gaze flicked back to Alastor, who stood next to you. That grin of his hiding whatever emotions he was feeling as he slowly released your grip, indicating for you to lead him away.
“Thank you for coming to visit, Alastor. I can stitch that up for you, you’ll just need to let me take it for a bit.” You smiled at him, doing your best to play the part with professionality. What, were you supposed to just start calling him pet names like ‘honey’ and ‘babe’?
“I think I'd prefer keeping it on.” Alastor said curtly, adjusting his collar.
He wanted to still be wearing it while you fixed it? That meant you couldn’t use the sewing machine, without risking injury to him.
“… I suppose you can just follow me, then.” You replied, turning away as you beckoned him towards the back room.
Alan didn’t follow the two of you, maybe Alastor’s comments threw him off. You hoped they did, you had enough of that guy for one day.
You opened the dark gray door, pulling it wide so Alastor could follow behind. The back room was a cozy nook from the busy establishment, half of it transformed into a makeshift tailoring nook. A small step stool nestled among tall mirrors allowed a multi-angle look for customers getting a fitting.
Rolls of fabric lined orderly shelves nearby, accompanied by an array of sewing essentials. In the corner, a small table and chair housed the ancient sewing machine. You walked forward, before realizing
“Oh, i’m sorry, I don’t have another chair. Let me go get one!” You pivoted to go find a spare, but Alastor only lifted his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt.
“Not to worry, my dear! I’ve got it under control.”
He reached a hand forward, gripping the air like he was grabbing the top of the backrest of a chair. He tugged at the air, and a plume of green smoke wafted from his fingertips as he pulled a wooden chair from the smoke.
You stared, mesmerized as he dragged it next to your seat. He gingerly lowered himself, and plopped into the chair. That had to be powerful magic, for him to be able to produce such an object easily from thin air. Just like he did with the seasoning.
Quickly, you gathered the necessary essentials to begin fixing his garment. A couple of needles, some dark red thread, and multiple fabrics that you seemed the closest to his suit’s color.
While you collected the items in a small bin, Alastor sat comfortably behind you. His nails clicking against his cane rhythmically as the music from the radio filled the room.
He hummed softly along to the melody, obviously familiar with the tune playing. You had heard it before, a classic rendition of ‘Once In A While’ by Lennie Hayton. It was a softer tune, and an orchestral piece that allowed you to drift into a comfortable lull.
As you carried the bin back to your seat, you nestled in beside him. There was a small distance between the two of you, your knees a few inches from grazing each other.
“May I?” You asked, holding out your hand to take his sleeve. You thought Alastor was going to react negatively to the gesture, like he did with Alan. Instead, he carefully reached out his arm, allowing you to pull his sleeve down to the surface of the table.
You tried very hard not to touch his skin, as you adjusted the tear on his cuff to face you. Grabbing a few pieces of fabric, you began to hold them next to his sleeve, attempting to find the perfect match.
“So, what happened this time? Surely, not that snake demon from before.” You spoke, trying to spark conversation with your ‘husband’.
“Ha, I’m glad you do remember our last conversation! I was worried you'd forgotten as the days went by.” Alastor started, sinking deeper into his seat. He placed his cane against the table,
‘Of course, I'd remember,’ you thought, ‘I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how I try.’
“I had found myself in a rather lively discussion with a particularly vexing imp. Tiny thing, but full of mischief and malice. Managed to get itself tangled in my grip during our little altercation.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I must say, it put up quite the fight for something no larger than a rat. But fear not, I emerged victorious, albeit with a few battle scars.”
Alastor gestured towards the tear on his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at his words, a small chuckle coming from your throat as you pulled another piece of fabric to his cuff.
Finally, you found the color that matched his attire, and you carefully began cutting a large piece from the roll.
“I’m going to have to hand sew your tear, is that okay?”
“Of course, my dear! Just try not to poke me, hm?”
You nodded with a smile, before plucking the small needle from the table.
With nimble fingers, you carefully align the edges of the fabric, pinching them together to ensure a snug fit. Holding the needle firmly between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to weave the thread in and out with practiced precision, creating neat, tiny stitches along the seam.
“I have been meaning to ask, how did the seasoning I gave you fare?” Alastor spoke, his eyes filled with intrigue as he waited for your response.
“Oh! It was fantastic!” You beamed, your mouth watering slightly as you recalled the wonderful dinner from that night. “They made Crawfish Étouffée, and it was very delicious.”
“Ah! Yes, that dish was a staple back in New Orleans, when I was alive. Folks would gather all over to get a taste of my mother’s own twist on the delicacy. She was quite the cook, and her skill never faltered.”
As you listened, you realized his voice softened quite more when he spoke of his mother. That static in his tone seemed to disperse as he mentioned her, and you caught a glimpse of his true voice behind that radio overlay.
“Well, now that I've gotten a glimpse into such an art. I really am interested in trying your Jambalaya.” You spoke genuinely, your fingers still delicately lacing the thread across his sleeve.
“I am pleased to hear that,” Alastor hummed, “I’ll have to bring you a sample the next time I'm in the area.”
Silence filled the room, other than the music that wafted from the radio’s speaker. You continued to adjust and stitch together his sleeve, very close to finishing the mending work.
Even though there were no words spoken between the two of you, the silence was not awkward at all. The two of you simply sat comfortably in each other's presence.
Behind you, the slight crack in the door allowed you to hear the loud voice of Alan, as he spoke to another customer. Alastor’s ears twitched slightly as he heard the demon speaking, his body tensing momentarily.
“Has that wretch been bothering you often?” Alastor spoke after a moment, the static in his voice growing thicker as he spoke of Alan. His claws slightly dug into the table, a faint trail embedded in the wood.
“Well, he doesn't treat me like that succubus did. But, he does not drop the subject of us becoming romantically involved. It gets.. uncomfortable, I guess.”
You sighed as the words slipped from your tongue, a frown forming on your lips as you thought of his many attempts to swoon you. Alastor’s head tilted at your words, that smile cracked even wider as you continued to carefully slip the needle through the fabric.
“Would you like me to ĐɆVØɄⱤ Ⱨł₴ ₴ØɄⱠ?”
You jerked your head up at his words, surprise etched on your face as you turned to him. His voice had changed, the last bit of his sentence distorting into pure static, and you almost didn’t catch his words.
The room crackled with energy, causing your hair to practically stand on end. It was chilling, and you shivered subconsciously at the feeling. The room seemed to darken as Alastor stared at you, his pupils shrinking to resemble radio dials.
“Excuse me?” You questioned, your tone never faltering from its original octane. Which surprised you, since this powerful demon was looking at you with such murderous intent.
‘It’s not you he wants to murder.’ the voice in your head whispered. Which made your heart flutter, was Alastor wanting to kill for you? That was.. unconventionally sweet.
Is that what he did to the succubus the other night when you weren’t looking?
“If the little oaf can’t keep his words to himself, then there is no place for him to continue to sour your mood.” Alastor explained, his eyes taking their original form slowly as he spoke, and the distortion in his tone subsided.
The shadow festering around you slowly shrank away from your seat, illuminating the room once more. That cold feeling that gripped at your shoulders vanished.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling that left you, even if it smelled of darkness and destruction. It felt almost.. comforting to you. Like the shadow was pulling you into a protective hug, the chill cooling your heated skin into a soothing embrace.
You only shook your head, “He doesn’t need to die for something like that. And, he’s my boss. Without him, the store wouldn’t run as well.”
Alastor only huffed, leaning back into his seat. His claws left the table, and were instead enclosed into a fist, as he rested his chin atop of it.
“At least the poor bloke ceased in his courting when he realized another had already taken that place.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down to the gold ring on your hand.
You halted, the needle hanging in the air mid-stitch. How did he know about you and Alan’s conversation? More importantly, what were his feelings about you still wearing the piece of jewelry?
“Oh, right. Yes, I’m sorry for still wearing it, I know it was just for that moment and it was stupid for me to think I could keep it-”
“Nonsense! Do not fret, my dear.” Alastor interjected, brushing off your worry. “Think of it as a small gift to rectify the situation you were forced into that night.”
A gift? He wanted you to keep the ring?
“You could even go as far as to perceive it as a good luck charm, ha-ha. Trouble seems to never escape you, and if this ring can even give you an ounce of protection, why not keep it on to ensure nothing like that night happens again?”
You smiled at him, your eyebrows raised as you listened to his words. A tiny ring, protecting you? You doubted it.
“Well, thank you, Alastor. It is really nice to know someone cares in that way.”
Alastor hummed softly in response, his toothy grin softening into a lipped smile as he turned his attention back to the music playing softly.
The thread tightened snuggly between the two fabrics as you finished the final stitch, your other hand reaching to the small scissors next to you. Carefully, you snipped the thread as close to the sleeve as possible, and you leaned back to take a look at your work.
It looked perfect, like the garment had never taken a hit in the first place. Alastor pulled his arm back slightly, turning it over to inspect it thoughtfully.
“I must say, you have such talent with a needle and thread! When you told me you worked as a door girl, I never expected knowledge of tailoring to be in your resume as well!”
Your cheeks heated as his compliment, and you began to slowly stand from the seat. For a moment, you wished there was something else wrong with his coat that you could fit. If only to keep him here a little longer.
What a selfish thought. You silently reprimanded yourself for such thinking, Alastor had no doubt better things to do than sit here and chit chat with a powerless nobody like you.
Alastor also left his chair, and he adjusted his collar. He gripped his cane, straightening his posture as he turned to you.
“It seems every time we’re together, our conversations are never dull. Thank you for assisting me, I’d love to continue our talks but it appears I have other business to attend to.”
“Back at the hotel?” You asked, as you walked with him to the doorway.
Alastor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened slightly at your words. He tilted his head at you. “Forgive me, my dear, but I do not remember telling you such a thing. Where did you hear that from?”
Fuck. He never had told you about his place of work, and you writhed slightly under his stare as you tried to come up with an explanation.
“Oh, it’s just an imp had come in this morning, buying a tuxedo for his daughter. He said she ran the Hazbin Hotel. He also said you worked at the hotel too.”
‘And he doesn’t seem to like you.’ you added silently.
Alastor’s grip around his cane tightened, and his smile widened as he thought for a moment. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it sounded dark.
“Are you sure it was an imp, my dear?” He asked slowly.
You nodded, recalling the conversation. “Yes, short with white hair and red skin. Sunglasses too, weirdly. He was quite nice, actually. He gave me some money for helping him, nobody has ever done that for me.”
“Ha! What a kind soul he must be. Did he say anything else to you, by chance?”
You shook your head, “no, not really.”
“A surprise, really. That imp has a knack for using his charm to bend others to his whim. I'm sure that gesture of his was nothing more than to sweep you off your feet for his antics. I’d keep your distance from demons like him, if I were you.”
Was Alastor.. jealous? He couldn't be. But, it seemed like the feelings between the two were mutual with the way he spoke with disdain.
The imp seemed like he had someone he cared deeply for, anyway. You were sure his gesture wasn’t anything more than kindness. Although, you didn’t think Alastor would believe you if you told him.
“But, as you previously mentioned, yes,” Alastor changed the conversation, for his sake it seemed, “I do reside at the hotel in exchange for my services. Redeeming sinners is no easy feat, it needs special hands to mold such a dream into reality.”
“Well, I'm sure you’re doing a great job.” You spoke, doing your best to voice your support for him.
Alastor smiled at you, before nodding in agreement. He pulled the door open, and stepped through the doorway. You followed him, stopping at the threshold as he turned back to you.
He lowered himself slightly, a small curtsy in your direction. As he lifted himself, he leaned closer to you.
“Until we meet again, my wife.” He spoke loudly, most likely for the others in the vicinity to hear. His voice was like honey to your ears as that faint hiss of static dispersed from his tone when his lips settled on wife.
You really did like his voice, and hopefully, you’d hear what it really sounded like more often. His eyes settled on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t, instead turning towards the register across the room.
Leaning against the doorway, you watched Alastor stroll to the cash register. Alan stood behind the counter, and he seemed to shrink slightly under the taller demon’s gaze.
The sharp edges of Alastor’s smile returned as he watched the demon quickly ready the digital display for check-out. His pupils dilating slightly, eyes narrowed as he waited.
You had watched him leave the store, watched him stroll down the street without a glance at anyone else. That mild boredom taking over his features, like it had when he had first arrived.
For the rest of your shift, as you sewed buttons back into place or trimmed stray threads that stuck out of garments, your thoughts continued to stray to events earlier in the day. To that imp, to the ring on your finger, to Alastor and those fluffy little ears on his head.
You were still deep in thought when you clocked out, your feet carrying you out the door as your path led you to the bus stop a few blocks down.
It was a small blue sign, with the symbol of a bus engraved into it. There was no one around, the empty streets quiet as you plopped onto the bench to wait.
Your hands reached into your bag, pulling out your phone from its pocket. You scrolled through your notifications, before clicking on a message from one of your friends.
You were so deep into the screen in front of you, that you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approach the bench. You didn’t see the knife pointed directly at your face, or the masked man who’s gaze traveled down your form.
“Hey, you!” A voice coated with malice addressed you.
Your head shot up, and you reeled back at the large knife right in front of your nose. Your heartbeat quickened as you scrambled off the bench, the man only keeping pace with you as you backed away.
“You seem like a nice young lady, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. Just give me everything you’ve got, and we can go our separate ways.”
“I don’t really have anything for you to take!” You said breathlessly, your hands shaking as you pulled miniscule items from your bag. He only ripped the entire thing from your grip, throwing it behind him.
“What about money? Hand everything over, sweet cheeks.”
You grimaced, before pulling the stack of bills the imp had given you from your person. He ripped them from your grip, before stuffing the money down his pocket.
“That’s all I have, I promise! Please let me go.” You begged, your back hitting the wall of an abandoned building behind you.
You prayed for someone to come to your rescue. Alastor graced your mind, that he’d swoop in to save you once more to save you. He was right, trouble never seemed to leave you.
This time, you’d let him tear this guy apart.
“What about jewelry, huh? I see that ring on your finger, it must cost quite a pretty penny.” The thug sleazed.
Instinctively, you brought your hand to your chest, trying to shield the band from his stare. The demon only closed the distance between the two of you, his mask grazing against your chin as he abruptly yanked you forward.
“Don't fight me, you bitch! Just give it to me, don’t make this difficult.”
His rough hand encircled around your wrist. It was harsh against your skin, and you winced in pain.
“Let go of me! I’ve already given you enough, just leave me alone!” You screamed, hoping someone would come to your aid.
He raked his hand down your finger, the ring slowly moving down your digit as he tried to dislodge it.
It was a snug fit against your skin, and it took him a few moments for him to begin pulling it off your finger. Tears pricked at your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your veins, but you dared not to move with the knife slightly pressing into your side.
Another tug, and the ring grazed over your nail as it was pulled harshly. It wasn’t able to make it past before something strange happened.
The ring ignited in a green flame, and the thug’s hand shot away as he yelled in pain. It licked at the tip of your finger, but you felt no heat from its touch.
You barely had time to blink, or scream before the ring exploded. It burst into a large cloud of green smoke that engulfed your figure. Shielding you from your surroundings. Energy crackled in the air, paired with a chill that made your breath visible as you gasped.
It felt like someone had reached out and gripped at the collar of your top, and you felt a much gentler tug and you were pulled backwards.
The smoke seemed to vanish, and you were drenched into darkness. You felt your feet lift off the ground, as if you were floating.
The problem, you had no idea where you were. Your heart felt like it was going to burst as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like hours went by, but in truth, it was only a matter of a few seconds that darkness surrounded you.
Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and your closed eyelids were hit with a ray of light. There were voices surrounding you as your feet touched on solid ground, the floor softer this time, like carpet.
The chatter stopped abruptly as you settled in place, and for a moment you felt like curling into a ball and hiding from whatever scene you had been thrusted into.
“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice exclaimed next to you, static dripping from their words. “I was wondering how long it would be until you showed up!”
Wait a second, was that Alastor speaking? Was he responsible for whatever the hell just happened?
Your eyes slowly opened, revealing a large room covered in dark red wallpaper that cracked with age. Gold framed the edges, and lights mounted on the walls illuminated a few paintings that filled the empty space.
It looked like a lobby. Couches nestled in a corner around a small box tv. Next to that was a small bar, bottles of liquor stacked on shelves behind the counter.
Your eyes trailed away, before they landed on a small group of demons in front of you. Your breath quickened in fear, as you quickly scanned over their figures.
There was a woman in a red tuxedo, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. Long platinum-blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail as it traveled down her back. Beside her, a tall snake held a hand to his chest as he leaned back slightly, as if he was more afraid of you than you were of him.
There were a few others too, but your mind was racing so fast you weren’t able to get a settle on their frames before you eyes were bouncing around for an exit.
It wasn’t until you felt someone’s arm snake around your elbow did you whip your head to the side, Alastor’s large smile greeting you as he laced his arm with yours in comfort, no doubt noticing the way your knees were about to buckle.
“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear!” He exclaimed, as if your arrival was expected and totally-not-strange whatsoever. His eyes were soft, doing his best to calm you with his familiar presence. You opened your mouth to speak, even though you weren’t sure exactly what to say.
“Who the fuck is that?” The fuzzy, pink spider demon piped up from the shocked onlookers. A pair of hands on his hips as he regarded you with confusion.
Your lips upturned into a faint smile, and you lifted your hand for a half-hearted wave.
“Um, hi..?”
I hope you enjoyed part 2! Sorry for that cliff hanger 😭 i hate doing that but had to end it somewhere haha
and.. hold up yall…
for real?! i did not expect this my first month on this app, nor at all really 😍 what started as “just this one luci one-shot..” became so much more!
Thank you all for the support and love you’ve given me, lowkey itching to buy a computer just for writing (yes, all my fics have been written with sore thumbs haha)
HUGE thanks to @spoiled-slutt for being my beta reader and helping me brainstorm ideas for this part! They’ve been an amazing help, and you should definitely check out their works if they interest you! <3
have a great day, my swans! 🦢
—
taglist:
@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites
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𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 l. heeseung ( 이희승 )
synopsis | your boyfriend had come back from a company dinner tipsy, and with one thing on his mind.
pairing : lee heeseung x fem!reader genre : drabble, [ MDNI 18+ ] smut warnings : oral ( fem rec ), petnames, language, overstimulation, slight fingering word count : 1.1k authors note : crazy for him… he’s just sooo
“hee,” you breathed out, threading your fingers through his hair, “hold on.”
the way he dragged his lips along your collarbone and down to the hem of your shirt was making your brain short circuit. he wasn’t usually the one to initiate sex out of nowhere—because, out of you both, he knew how to hide his desires better than you did. however, almost ten minutes ago he’d gotten home from a company dinner where he happened to have a drink or two, leaving him slightly tipsy; it wasn’t nearly enough to impair his ability to think clearly. no, actually he’d never been clearer about what he wanted…
you. under him. head between your legs.
he had pleaded, compromising for the position. initially he wanted you to sit on his face, however you thought he might die in his current state. not that he seemed to mind much. he’d happily die if it meant you on his tongue.
“baby,” you tugged just a little harder, getting him to lift his head with a groan. his eyes met yours, blown out and half-lidded. you knew you were fucked from the moment you met him, always giving him what he wanted if he so much as looked at you a certain way.
his voice was barely over a whisper, peppering less intense kisses between words, “what’s wrong, angel?”
truthfully, nothing. but you thought you needed him to hurry up before you lost your mind entirely. he’d taken his god forsaken time running his hands down, around and over your body before he even pressed his lips to your skin. you thought he was needy, but maybe he was just up to his same old shit, getting you frustrated and pliable enough to beg.
and you would, you both knew that.
“can you…” you couldn't even finish the sentence, heeseung pushing your shirt up entirely and attaching his mouth to your naval. you whimpered, feeling a smirk form against your skin. he watched as you threw your head back into the pillow, letting out a breath-filled moan. he loved you so embarrassingly much, he swore he’d never seen something prettier than you. nonetheless, you were just as deep in love… in reality, how could you not be?
he laughed slightly, gripping your hips and dragging you down towards him. “can i, what?” he asked. except he knew you wouldn’t be able to answer with him sucking marks into your hips; just twist and turn.
your whimpers and moans were only fuel to his flame, splaying his hands over your body to get you to stop moving too much.
“c-can—you, fuck, hurry up?”
his eyebrows rose in amusement, though you wouldn’t notice through closed eyes and a displayed neck.
he thought your attempt to get what you want was admirable, and if he was completely sober—hiding his hips grinding against the sheets—then he’d make you clarify. but he was just as far gone, and borderline, needed it worse than you.
he gave you one last kiss on the middle of your stomach before hooking his fingers in the waistband of your sweats. he dragged down both fabrics from your body, exposing your lower half fully to him.
he fought back a groan that crept up his throat. “you’re so wet, my love.” your fingers curled into his hair tighter, and he couldn’t hold back the noise anymore. it hit your ears, but you played it off like you hadn’t noticed. though, he probably wouldn’t stop even if you made fun of him for being so down bad for pussy—at least he was getting some whenever he wanted, he’d think, in comparison to his single best friends. “is it for me?”
“yes, heeseung! all for you baby.” you didn’t mean for it to border a shout, however you were beyond impatient at this point in time. “now, please wou—“
he cut you off by wrapping your thighs around his head, using his hands to keep them on his shoulders, and diving him.
he dragged his tongue through your folds, (literally) testing the waters. you tried to follow with your hips, but every time he’d lightly smack your skin in response. until you got the hint.
“hee, please.” and he smiled, knowing that he was finally getting what he wanted. “i need more, please, need it—you—so bad.”
that was his cue, his undoing, and he sucked your clit into his mouth. he savored your taste, and basked in the sounds you made. he couldn’t help the grunts that left his throat every time you’d pull on his hair just right. he liked it.
he liked it all.
the way you kept saying his name. the way your legs got tighter as you kept him buried. the way you looked so ethereal just using him to your pleasure, rolling your hips so desperately. this is what he wanted, the exact vision he had in his mind almost twenty minutes ago. you needed it… but he needed it more.
you grabbed at his hand on your leg, with the one not threaded through his dark locks, until he slotted his fingers between yours. you squeezed as an attempt to ground yourself from the sky-soaring pleasure.
“s-shit,” you stuttered, “baby, i-i’m close,”
he hummed, the vibrations only adding pleasure, and readjusted his body to be closer. if you weren’t so close to toppling over the edge, you might’ve laughed.
he didn’t let up, in fact he got—somehow—better; alternating between kissing, sucking and licking. he knew you and your body too damn well, you thought. if you weren’t designed for him, you don’t know who would be.
“gonna cum,” you blurted, body tension under his grip, “hee—fuck!”
however, when he would normally stop and fuck you, he didn’t. he kept his mouth firmly planted on your heat, savoring every last drop you had to offer… and then some. he just couldn’t will himself to pull away. not even when you pulled almost hard enough to take some locks with you.
he listened to your pants and whines, but it was distant and cloudy. and when he broke away from your clenched hand to ghost two fingers at your entrance, you almost screamed.
“no—“ you opted for pushing, but your boyfriend wouldn’t budge, “n-no more,”
the overstimulation was painfully blissful. you both knew you liked it, after all you had an agreed on safe word that you hadn’t used. he could at least hear as much as that. but it didn’t even cross your mind. not even when he pushed in, scissoring and dragging his digits at a rapid pace.
“fuck,” it’s like he came up for air—but not very far—his face glossed over. “you’re so beautiful, baby. give me another, please. i need it.” who were you to deny when it felt as good as it did?
in reality, you had a feeling this was only the start of your night with him.
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