#he was the reason for her own containment

[catsukkii]

okay so!

i have been craving an idea... knowing on the bars of my cage... for a katsuki × retired!pro hero... Still young, in her early twenties, who was put out of commission for an injury on the field. From there, she practically goes M.I.A and isolates herself, until Katsuki is finally able to track her down and just finds that she turned from a happy-go-lucky person to someone who is grumpy and brash, refusing help and avoiding him. essentially it's angst/comfort, which I think you could do perfectly! feel free to add any other elements

HELLLOOO BEAUTIFUL!! THIS IS A WONDERFULLL IDEA I HOPE I CAN EXECUTE IT TO YOUR LIKING! 🥹 I messed around with the request and made it so she accepts his help instead I HOPE THATS OKAY WITH YOUU !! 😭

Chasing shadows, chasing you. — katsuki bakugo

IN WHICH…as the request says, you were put out of commission for an intense injury, in a frustrated rush you run away from the place that held your dreams, to a small run down town to live in a shack in the middle of nowhere. months add up and you accept nobody will find you, just as you wanted. until a knock is at your door.

Pairing; Katsuki Bakugo x Afab!reader

Content contains; swearing, angst/comfort, fluff at the end, swearing, mentions of injury, depression implied, LOWKEY selfish reader (but not intentionally), sad sad stuff, bakugo may be a lil ooc…, not proof read so it may suck ass

Word count; somewhere over 1k 😭

A/N; THIS REQUEST WAS LOVEEELY AND IM SORRY IT KIND OF JUMPED ALL OVER THE PLACE! I HOPE YOURE HAPPY WITH THE OUTCOME MY LOVEEE!! 🫶🏻 this is going to flop awfully I feel like I could’ve done so much better OUUUCH

frustrated. that’s what you were. angry. It was ridiculous, a stupid injury and now you can never work again? stupid. It was stupid. having to give up on the dream you had just reached all for your own rookie mistake.

so you ran, you couldn’t stand being in the town where all the big-shot hero’s were, constantly staring at what you could’ve become. what was the point in staying? your dreams were shattered, crushed.

you packed your stuff, and ran from the place that once held your dreams, now a place that would haunt you.

of course, people were concerned. you were an amazing hero, and that injury was practically fatal, just to never be heard of again? the media assumed everything was under wraps for the time being, giving you space to recover. but the more months that went by the more the media pressed.

eventually, the authorities had to make a statement, you were missing completely mia. they didn’t know where you were or what happened, of course this caused an uproar among thousands.

you scoff at the tv, and the crowd going out of control. you reach for the tv remote, ready to turn it off before they spoke,

“we have a team of police and hero’s searching, don’t fret, she will be found.” you roll your eyes at this.

“dynamight will be leading the case, considering they were the closest and even he has no idea what happened.” you still your movements. katsuki? you had grown close throughout the years, but would he really go searching for you? was it just to calm civilians? was he forced into it?

thoughts running through your head, you turn the tv off and sigh, walking to your sad kitchen filled with barely enough food. you avoided grocery stores for obvious reasons. doordash bags scattered on the ground, takeout boxes covering your island, it was a mess. you had no motivation to clean, train, do anything. everything you once loved only reminded you of the incident.

you lean your elbows onto the cold island counter, burying your head in your hands with a long sigh. how could you even face katsuki after all this? what if he really did find you and show up? would he be upset at you? he had good reason but he must’ve understand where you were coming from right?

the thoughts clouded your head, you remove your head from its place in your hands, and look up at the light. a weak attempt to stop the tears that brinked your lash line.

It had been months. you had forgotten about the whole katsuki thing, surely they’d have stopped their searching by now. most of your days were filled with unnecessary naps, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, and occasionally watching some dumb show on tv. you were miserable, your once bright smile has turned into a permanent frown. your sparkling eyes, filled with hopes and dreams, we’re now dead and empty.

knock knock.

the mail, probably. you shake the chip crumbs off of you, and force yourself to spring up off the couch.

knock knock kno—

“I’m coming!” you groan, hes never been this persistent..must have a lot of houses to get to. you make your way to the door, attempting to fix your tangled hair to the best of your abilities, you open the door and immediately a man’s voice speaks.

“hello, I’m dynamight and we’ve been looki—“ he freezes, you freeze. the shell shocked expression on both of your faces, brows raised, eyes blown wide, mouth slightly parted. your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at the sight, fuck had he really been looking all this time? and why is it just him?

“…y/n.” he speaks with the same shocked tone, almost as if he was wondering if you were real or a hallucination. all you could do was stare up at him with a blank expression on your face.

“kat..katsuki—why did—how did you even find me?” you open the door to its full capacity, backing away slightly; he takes this as a sign and steps into the entry of your sad little cottage, silence filled the house more then chatter, both of you still in disbelief.

“I searched—“ he cuts himself off with a harsh swallow. “I searched everywhere for you y/n. why—I don’t…why did you leave?” the question causes a lump to build in your throat, you didn’t know a good answer. hell, you didn’t know if there was a good answer.

silence passed for a minute as you thought, you move out of his way slightly and mumble a “come in.” he nods and steps out of the way, letting you close the door softly as his boots stomp dirt all through your house, not like it’s hurting the piles of dust that were already scattered among your floor.

he sits himself down on your small cheap couch, and crosses his ankles awkwardly, you sit down on the opposite side creating as much distance as possible, more silence looms in the air, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“I missed you.” he grumbles quietly, you bit your lip, staring at the floor avoiding his gaze. “I missed you too.” you speak softly, he nods slowly in understanding. neither of you knew where to go from here.

“so..why. why y/n? why did you leave me? everybody?” all he could muster was ‘why.’ because that was the only question on his mind for borderline a year, just as you open your mouth to speak he continues,

“I mean fuck—“ he lets out a faux laugh, trying to ignore the fact he just wanted to sob right now. “I was so worried, so goddamn worried. All I wanted was confirmation you were safe, do you know how hard it was?” you shake your head no softly, there was nothing you could say at this point.

“everybody pressing me constantly. ‘what happened to athena.’, ‘are you covering for athena?’ ‘how could you not know where she is?’” as he repeats what people were telling him, it makes you realize how selfish you were.

“katsuki i didnt—“ he cut you off quickly. “didnt what hm? y/n I searched every. fucking. day. the authorities even stopped looking for you, but I never did.” tears watered your lash line threatening to spill at any moment, why did he keep looking even when everybody else had given up on you?

“I’m sorry.” you spoke softly, a tear dripping down your eye slowly, which you quickly wipe away. he sighs and rubs a hand through his hair, silence and a few tears go by before he speaks up,

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to blow up like that. I was just worried sick y/n. I was worried something happened to you..” you nod in understandment, you would have been worried if this happened with katsuki.

“I just wasn’t thinking—“ he shushes you. “I know. I know…” even more silence passes, but a comfortable one now, the tension no longer growing in the air.

“I seriously did miss you..you were all I thought about.” you broke the silence, he let out a soft laugh, you missed his laugh.

“I missed you too…or whatever tch.” he scoffs and looks away, putting his nonchalant persona back on playfully, causing you to laugh yourself.

the rest of the night was filled with chatter, catching up on everything eachother had missed, mostly hearing about how katsuki went door to door to almost every town in Japan until he found even a trace of you. It caused your heart to swell at his thoughtfulness, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for all the trouble you put him through.

the days go by, and he makes daily visits, attempting to get your so called house back in shape, but he proposes a suggestion.

“yknow,” he starts, holding another bag of trash in his hand. “my house is pretty big, and I have a guest bedroom maybe you could— ah, I don’t know, move in? atleast for the time being.” you were caught off guard at his gesture, the wide smile you’ve gained back over the days seeing katsuki, mixing with your brows furrowed in confusion, you wait for a remark of him joking but it never comes, your face drops into a more serious expression.

“you serious?” he nods curtly, “dead serious.” your face turns into a bright smile again, and you nod slowly before exclaiming,

“yeah…yeah! yeah, what the hell? of course!?” he laughs at your enthusiasm. “alright, start packin be ready by tomorrow.”

“TOMORROW!?” you screech in shock and he gives you a confused look as if it was a casual encounter. “yeah? best of the best moving.” you jaw drops in shock before you sigh stressfully at the thought of packing in a day but…now that you think about it, it probably won’t take that long considering you only have necessities in your house, and you don’t have to move furniture so…

I guess you’re going back home.

a/n; this is so rushed and kinda jumps all over the place I’m so sorry growls

[starlost-mochi-x]

lonely st. ✧ chapter viii : the breaking point

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: y/n has a bad panic attack, mentions of ed, y/n has trouble eating, felix and his mom, mentions of throwing up, medication, and racing thoughts

a/n: this chapter is really long i can't lie. i got carried away *laughs in obsessed, traumatized writer*

series masterlist | skz masterlist

"Oh, it's so warm in here," Hyunjin groaned, flopping into a chair. Y/n took a seat next to him cautiously, settling down warily and glancing around the store.

Bbokari's was exactly as Felix had said; a convenience store lined with rows and rows of snacks, household items, hygiene products, and even pet food. Not that it was uncommon, but sometimes it still threw Y/n to realise that people actually owned pets. Since she'd never had one of her own, she found herself wondering what owning an animal really entailed.

It can't be much different from taking care of Jisung, she reasoned idly.

The store lights overhead were golden, casting a warm glow over the four teens. The store was bigger than it had initially looked from the outside, with the main part of it being taken up by the shop items. A wall fridge ran along the left side of the store, filled with frozen products and treats, as well as a small, separated section for antibiotics and over-the-counter medications.

There was a small staircase up the back, lining the wall and leading up to what Y/n assumed to be Felix's house on the upper level. A countertop sat in front of it, where there were several automatic checkouts and a manual cashier box. Currently, no one was manning the cashier station.

She looked around from where she was currently sitting; this part of the store was set out like a little cafe; mismatched chairs and tables sat upon the polished, recently-cleaned wooden floors, sectioned off from the shiny linoleum of the convenience aisles.

There was a high bench with tall stools and a large window that ran the length of the wall, giving Y/n a view out into the street beyond. She could see little flowers and plants bobbing their heads and leaves against the glass, moving in the cold, post-storm wind.

On the opposite side from the window, there was another wall and a long wooden countertop, on which sat several microwaves, a kettle, a coffee maker, and a small cupboard containing tea and coffee additions. Y/n noticed there was also a large biscuit jar with a little scribbled drawing of a chicken on the glass, with 'FELIX' written underneath it.

She settled back in her chair; Felix had gone upstairs to fetch something, and had told them to wait downstairs. Jisung and Hyunjin were busy fighting over the last chip from the bag they'd nicked from Felix's lunchbox, and Y/n sat quietly and observed them, not having much else to do apart from survey her surroundings.

She turned just as Felix came down the staircase, weaving amongst the shelves before standing in front of them, breathless.

"Sorry, I had to go check where my mom was. She's out the back but she'll be in soon, so we can go upstairs."

The boys moved to get up, Jisung snatching the chip from between Hyunjin's lips, and followed Felix. Y/n did the same, weaving through the shelves and standing beside him in the middle of the snack aisle. Felix turned back to her as Jisung and Hyunjin began taking food from the shelves, clearly comfortable with their surroundings.

"Take whatever you want," he smiled at her kindly. "You don't have to pay because it's your first time here."

Y/n waved her hands, stuttering. "N-no, it's okay, I'll pay."

Felix opened his mouth to protest before a gentle, warm hand found its way onto her shoulder. Turning, she locked eyes with a taller, older woman with kindly eyes and dark hair tied up in a loose, messy knot. She smiled down at Y/n and it was immediately reminiscent of Felix's easygoing, casual grin, albeit tinged with a motherly kindness.

"Please, feel free to take whatever you like. No need to pay," she said, her voice soft and hospitable. "I insist."

Y/n's head buzzed. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting when Felix had said his mom, but it hadn't been this. She was so nice, and- normal.

"H-hi," she stuttered up at the woman, feeling like a small, lost child in the presence of this motherly figure.

Felix stepped up beside her, placing a gentle hand on Y/n's upper back. "Mom, this is Y/n. She's my new friend."

The woman nodded kindly at Y/n, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, Y/n. Please, call me Auntie. Everyone does."

"Okay," Y/n whispered, feeling suddenly warm at Felix's choice of phrasing. New friend.

The older woman smiled, nodding. She glanced behind the two of them to Hyunjin and Jisung, who were busy fighting yet again, this time over a packet of ramen buldak noodles.

Someone called out something from a door in the corner near the fridges, which Y/n assumed led out to the back supply area.

"Auntie, someone's calling for you," Jisung shouted cheerfully, his hands still tangled around Hyunjin's as they fought for the ramen packet.

She laughed, ruffling Felix's hair. "Thank you, Jisung. I need to go now, but have fun, Y/n. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

She leaned down to Y/n and patted her shoulder, giving her a conspiratorial wink. "Maybe you can teach my son some manners while you're here."

"Mom," Felix protested, fighting a laugh. His mother brushed past him with a laugh even softer and went out the door, shutting it behind herself.

Felix took Y/n's shoulders and turned her towards the shelves, stocked with a variety of tasty snacks and colourful packets.

"Go on," he said encouragingly, before turning to wrestle the ramen packet out of Jisung and Hyunjin's hands.

With Felix's attention off of her, Y/n gulped, frozen in the middle of the aisle. The packaged foods seemed to taunt her with their cutesy cartoon characters and colourful patterns, and their shiny plastic coverings and packages made her eyes hurt as they shone against the golden lights hanging overhead.

She began to feel a bit sick.

Felix and his mother had insisted she take something without the need to pay for it, which meant she had to eat something. In front of Felix and his friends. And he would certainly pinpoint that something was off if she insisted she wasn't hungry. Not for the first time did she half-heartedly curse his unusually perceptive nature.

She swallowed a thick wad of saliva, trying to quell the growing grumbling in her stomach. Sucking her stomach in a little, she exhaled with some difficulty, feeling like she'd been punched hard in the gut all of a sudden.

Trying to suck air into her lungs, but feeling winded, she looked around, eyes darting increasingly quickly around the room. She looked everywhere but she couldn't see at all, unable to focus on anything but the growing buzzing sensation spreading up her neck, settling into the crevices of her hands and ankles.

She suddenly felt wobbly on her feet and her hand moved to fidget frantically with the strap of her bag, unfocused and shaky.

Hyunjin and Jisung were still whining and arguing loud enough that Y/n's frantic, uneven breathing couldn't be heard over the din. She stood, mouth parted, unable to do anything but stare at the shelf and hyperventilate, feeling absolutely stupid and pathetic.

Felix finally managed to disengage the now-crushed ramen packet from the boys' laser-tight grip and shoved them both down the aisle, scolding them lightly. Both of them disappeared around the corner to the fridges, bickering lightly about some nonsense.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Felix deposited the colourful packet back onto its rightful place on the shelf before turning around. His eyes widened at the sight of his friend. He gazed at her in mild confusion, not understanding.

"Y/n?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Felix's panic grew as Y/n shook her head shakily, unable to speak. He looked around for something that might help her calm down, finding nothing but wanting nothing more than to help his friend.

Jisung's had panic attacks before, he told himself firmly, composing himself. He always said that anything cold helps to ground him. Or physical contact... But I might scare her if I touch her suddenly. Should I go get Mom? Or would that make it worse?

Hyunjin, who had come round the corner again, presumably to complain about Jisung, noticed Felix standing motionless next to a hyperventilating Y/n, his hands out, unsure and worried.

"Y/n," he whispered, his mind going blank. Dropping his bag onto the floor, Hyunjin rushed down the aisle, moving to stand next to Felix. He placed a gentle hand on Y/n's arm, her body turning slightly to seek out his touch like a drawing magnetic force.

He enveloped her in a firm, warm hug, letting his chin rest on the top of his head, him having always been taller than her. Felix touched Hyunjin's shoulder and padded down the aisle, his mind set on distracting Jisung so Hyunjin and Y/n could have some privacy.

"It's okay," Hyunjin whispered to her, feeling her hands ball in the fabric of his blazer. "Don't worry."

"I'm sorry," she gasped into him, her voice faraway and timid, broken through with heaving pants.

Hyunjin shook his head, eyes closing as he stroked her hair in a reassuring, constant pattern. "Don't be sorry. It's okay. Can you take a deep breath?"

Y/n leaned back slightly and took in a shaking, hesitant draw-in of breath, Hyunjin encouragingly patting her back.

"There you go," he cooed at her, fighting the urge to kiss the top of her head.

'I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"Don't be. What happened, hmm?"

Y/n bit her lip, face still buried in Hyunjin's chest. He was so warm, and he smelled good. In the quietest voice, so small she was sure he wouldn't hear, she spoke.

"I can't eat," she said helplessly. "It's so difficult and my mind won't stop-"

Hyunjin peered down at her, glancing over his shoulder as Jisung and Felix went up the stairs. Felix shot him a subtle wink and Hyunjin nodded, turning his attention back to Y/n.

"That's okay. Have you eaten today?"

Silence.

Hyunjin sighed. "Let's get you something small to eat, okay?"

"No," Y/n protested fearfully, stomach churning.

"Just a little bit, hmm? Maybe you should rest first. Should I walk you home?"

"No," Y/n repeated instantly. She clutched tighter at him, her face burying further into his chest. "No, no, I can't go, I-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he quieted her gently. "Let's go upstairs to the others and you can just rest, okay? They won't say anything, I promise."

Y/n's voice was sad and subdued as she replied. "I ruin everything, Hyunjinnie."

Hyunjin's heart constricted and he tilted her chin up at him, feeling affection course through his veins at her vulnerable expression. "You don't ruin anything, Y/n. I need you to know that. And I'm proud of you."

She sniffed. "But I didn't do anything."

"I'm still proud."

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Can you walk?" He asked her gently. She shook her head, taking an experimental step.

She could walk, but she felt that any sort of effort-draining movement like walking or going up the stairs would probably make her disintegrate into little Y/n-shaped pieces on the linoleum. And if she was being honest, she didn't really feel like letting go of Hyunjin. She expected him to step back and tell her that she would be fine, and that she could walk up the stairs herself. Either that, or if he was feeling kind, he would take her arm and guide her up the stairs.

What she hadn't expected was Hyunjin looping an arm around the backs of her knees and putting the other around her shoulders before lifting her bridal-style from the ground with little to no effort at all.

"Hyunjin," she squeaked, clutching his shoulder, deathly afraid of falling.

He just chuckled and began walking up the stairs, holding her close to his torso. Y/n looked up at him, feeling the buzzing in her hands and feet subside as it was replaced with Hyunjin's warmth, bleeding into her body and caressing her skin through her uniform.

She leant her head cautiously on his shoulder, and Hyunjin was glad her head was laid on the right side of his torso, so she wouldn't be able to feel his heart practically beating out of his chest.

He set her down at the top of the stairs, pushing her gently into the large, open-plan living room. There was a small countertop sectioning off a kitchenette in the far corner, and two doors led into what Y/n assumed to be Felix's and his mother's separate rooms. There was a door on the opposite side that presumably led to a bathroom.

Ahead of them, Jisung and Felix sat on a plush couch facing a TV on a long, low cabinet, and sunlight spilled in great amounts through the mid-to-ceiling length window next to it.

There was a smaller, low table in front of the couch and Jisung was eagerly leaning on it as he pressed the buttons on his controller, apparently playing some sort of game with Felix on the TV. There was a fluffy, creamy, well-worn rug under the coffee table, matching the colour of the walls.

All of the furniture was cream, beige, or a light shade of brown, save for the mismatched cushions on the couch, making the room seem as bright, comforting, and cheery as Felix's warm smile.

Jisung groaned as his character took damage, sagging back onto the foot of the couch. He looked across and gestured Hyunjin and Y/n over.

"Wanna play?" He asked, offering the controller to Y/n.

She shook her head, suddenly exhausted, and Jisung nodded understandingly, turning back to the TV. Felix smiled empathetically at her over his shoulder, nodding his head at her in a silent question.

Y/n nodded back and a grateful smile ghosted her features as Felix moved to turn the video game's volume down. Hyunjin took a snack from the haphazard assortment on the coffee table and passed a little packet of sweets to Y/n, collapsing comfortably onto the couch.

She took the packet and sank down onto the cushions next to him. letting out a soft groan as it enveloped her body. Closing her eyes, and glancing across at Hyunjin, who was apparently busy watching Jisung play on his controller, she hesitantly took a sweet and put it in her mouth, letting the tangy flavour burst on her tongue.

A momentary surge of energy filled her and she moved to take her blazer off, leaning into the cushions. Her shoulder brushed Hyunjin's and he turned to her, his voice low and reassuring so only she could hear.

"You okay?"

She nodded, unable to stop her eyes from drooping. Hyunjin let out a soft chuckle and pulled her gently closer, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder. His heart jolted in his chest, though he'd been the one to initiate the contact.

The butterflies in Y/n's stomach slowly settled down to rest as her eyes sank shut with exhaustion.

Hyunjin sleepily opened his eyes.

The sunlight filtering into the room had dimmed slightly, taking on a warm, rosy glow, the kind that came with a late, slightly cloudy afternoon. He relished its warmth for a few moments before looking around the room.

He was alone; where Jisung had been sitting with Felix, playing a video game on the TV, there was only a small patch of ruffled, creamy rug to show that he'd ever sat there. Felix himself was nowhere to be seen; he was most likely downstairs, helping out his mom with the store.

Hyunjin moved to stretch an arm over his head, suddenly feeling a great weight on his chest. He was draped over the plush, comfortable couch, long legs bent as he slouched against the arm. His head was cushioned against a pillow which he recognised to be Felix's. He must have put it there after he'd fallen asleep.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking down to see why he felt so weighed down. His heart jolted suddenly and began to attempt to escape his ribcage altogether.

Y/n was fast asleep against his chest.

Hyunjin gulped before laying his head back against the pillow, shuffling slightly under her as he readjusted. He hoped she wouldn't be woken by the banging of his heart inside his chest.

Gathering his wilting courage, he looked down at her; Y/n's face was as serene as he'd ever seen it, untroubled and at peace, with the relaxed expression that came when one slept.

Her hand was resting against his lower torso, fingers tangled into the fabric of his sweater vest. He realised his blazer was draped over her; Felix must have put it there, or Jisung. He didn't remember taking it off himself.

He wondered for a second what she might look like wearing his blazer; would the sleeves be too long for her? Would it hang past down her hips, or would the scent of his cologne weaved into the fabric mix with her body spray?

Hyunjin shook his head, feeling a little dizzy. He considered attempting to move her off of him, but decided against it; she needed to rest. And he had no intention of ruining the quiet, serene moment he'd somehow found himself in.

His hand shook as he lightly traced the curve of her head, feeling the soft, fluffy strands of her hair brush against his fingertips. His heart thudded so loud he could hear it in the quietness of the room, and he brought his hand up to his face, rubbing it tiredly against his cheek. His elbow accidentally bumped her head in the process and he froze, wondering if he'd woken her. He hadn't.

Phew.

Hyunjin let his head fall back onto Felix's pillow, mind wandering. Was it weird that he liked having her close like this? Or was it crossing the line? They were friends, after all...

And besides, she'd just had a panic attack. It wasn't wrong of him to stay close to her and comfort her. That was what she needed; comfort, and affection. All he was doing was taking care of her.

He let his lips part, a soft exhale puffing out of them. Letting his hand rest gingerly on her back, he drew absentminded patterns on the fabric of his blazer. Y/n shifted a little and Hyunjin's head snapped up to look at her, before settling back down with a sigh of relief.

Was it wrong to be this comfortable around her? Surely, as friends, it was fine. He wasn't doing anything wrong. It was normal.

This is normal, he told himself firmly. It's like if Jisung fell asleep on top of me. Which he has. But just because she's a girl, it doesn't mean it has to be any different.

He jumped a little as his phone buzzed. Checking quickly to see if he'd jostled Y/n, he pulled it out from the pocket of his blazer. It was a notification from one of the sports websites he followed.

Noticing a message alert, he distractedly checked his texts, forgetting about the sports site. There was one new message, which had been sent over half an hour ago.

He clicked on it.

sung 🎧: did you get home good? i did

That's right, he remembered. Jisung left early, and alongside Felix, the boys had made it their tradition to check if the others had got home safe. Suddenly, Hyunjin felt bad for not replying. He typed quickly, hoping he was still online.

hyun 🤡: sorry, i fell asleep. i'm still at felix's.

Jisung replied characteristically quickly; a knowing smile graced Hyunjin's elegant features. Jisung was always quick to respond to texts.

sung 🎧: ahh i see sung 🎧: i thought you got murdered sung 🎧: i was hoping to get your inheritance 😔

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, typing back.

hyun 🤡: how kind of you hyun 🤡: also, change my damn contact hyun 🤡: you're the clown here, not me *'sung 🎧' changed 'hyun 🤡' to 'hyun bun 🍑'* hyun bun 🍑: jisung, ew! sung 🎧: i can't lie man sung 🎧: all those squats at basketball practice did you good

Hyunjin groaned, cheeks scarlet, and turned his phone off, tossing it onto the creamy rug below the couch, where it fell face-down, unharmed.

Resting his hand behind his head, he tilted slightly so he was looking up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He could rest for a little longer. Not that he was able to get up; Y/n was still fast asleep, and he was losing feeling in his legs, which felt all staticky, but he didn't mind.

His mind wandered back to his previous train of thought; was it wrong for him to be holding her like this? She needed the comfort, and Hyunjin didn't realise it until he stopped and really thought about it, but he needed the comfort too.

When was the last time he'd been held for this long?

Rather, when was the last time he'd felt so loved? So seen?

Sure, he loved Jisung and Felix, and his family and everyone else who held a shred of meaning to him, but with Y/n, it felt different. Like his whole life, he'd been standing behind a steamed-up mirror, where people had only been able to see him distantly, and now Y/n had wiped away the condensation and seen him for who he was. Who he really was. And it scared him.

What if she didn't like him for who he really was? She'd been quieter around him lately; maybe it was a sign that she wished to pull away, that she didn't want to be friends with him anymore... Just the thought made his heart constrict. He couldn't lose her. She meant so much to him now, with her quiet but interesting nature, her amazing sketches and creative talents, her cool collection of keychains and pins and badges...

And he felt safe around her, like he could tell her anything and she would just listen. Without judging or making fun of him. He was sure, if she extended a hand, he'd take it without a singular shred of doubt in his mind. Even if he didn't know where she was leading him, he knew it would be somewhere warm, somewhere safe, somewhere where he was totally, unequivocally loved.

And it wasn't just that, either; Y/n understood him. More than he had initially realised, she'd been picking up on his body language, on his little habits.

Just the other day he'd seen her in the gym, tossing a basketball around the court by herself. And he'd wanted to join her so badly, but a part of him feared that if he got too close, Y/n would walk away. She would leave the same way she feared he would do to her.

Like a tug of war, you could never win until the other person gave in. And Hyunjin wanted it so badly. He wanted to tug on the rope and pull her closer and closer, and he wanted her to want it.

He wanted her to feel loved by him, but if he pulled too harshly, she would fall. And Hyunjin knew that if she fell, everything he'd worked so hard to build would all come crashing down on him like a colossal tidal wave, washing away any evidence of what was and what could have been.

Was it possible to become closer than they already were? Or was he already pushing it? It was the last thing he wanted, after he'd toiled so hard to bring her close, was to be the reason to push her away. He was grateful for the fact that she wasn't as wary around him as she had been, but he wanted more.

Was it wrong to want more?

Or was it too risky? He didn't know how much longer he could stay in this stalemate, torn between pulling back and pushing further. What if he became the reason she went over the edge? What did he want so badly, anyway? Was it her attention? Her affection?

No, he reasoned. She's given me both of those things before and I never wanted more of it like I do now. It's something else.

But what? What did he want so badly? Did he want her all to himself? Or was that just him being jealous? But why would he be jealous in the first place? Surely, if you loved someone, it wasn't possible to be jealous of them in the first place, since they were already yours-

Wait, loved?

Hyunjin's heart dropped out of his ribcage and plummeted until it reached somewhere around his knees.

He didn't love her, right? Surely not. He hadn't even known her for a long time. Usually you were supposed to be close friends with someone for a long, long time before you liked them... That was the only way it worked.

Love, Hyunjin concluded to himself, was only something that could be achieved through years of close friendship. And then the famed symptoms would kick in; feeling nervous around the person, increased heartrate in their presence, dreaming about them, not being able to think straight when they did something like brush your shoulder or walk home with you or fall asleep in your arms-

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling a lot hotter than he had a minute before. The realisation slapped him in the face, as if someone had slapped him hard across both his cheekbones and punched him in the gut for good measure.

He was in love.

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[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Angst and smut (but it's not angsty smut). All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 7.9k

A/N : 😭😭 This is the last chapter which is why it's so freaking long (I probably should have turned it into two chapters but nevermind). I hope you love it.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eight

You didn’t sleep.

Despite knowing that, for the first time in years, you were finally safe, you didn’t sleep.

Every time you closed your eyes you saw him, you felt his teeth on your neck and his hands on your body.

Every time you closed your eyes you felt helpless and alone.

So, instead of sleeping, you dug out your sketch pad and started to draw. It was a mindless task to begin with, your hand seeming to move of its own accord, drawing the same thing you’d drawn countless times before; the Winter Soldier.

It had started as a way to remember, a way to get the violent images of your brother’s murder out of your head but, now, the man you were sketching wasn’t the cold, mechanical assassin who tortured your brother without blinking. He was Bucky. With soft blue eyes, filled with care and sadness. And, now, you needed to get him out of your head for very different reasons.

The hours blurred until, finally, you fell asleep at the table, pencil dropping from your hand.

A few hours later you were woken by the sound of a door closing and you crept to your peephole just in time to see Bucky leaving his apartment.

Your heart almost stopped as he paused and stared directly at your door as if he knew you were there. Then you saw him inhale through his nose like he was trying to find your scent. Only it wasn't there, with your gland gone, your scent was too weak to linger, and that thought made your chest hurt.

A moment later, he was gone.

For the first day you remained hidden away in your apartment but you knew you couldn't survive like that. You were still owed a fortnight's worth of wages from Gracie’s and you knew that you would need the money if you were going to find a new place to live.

The second day, you managed to slip out of the building unnoticed and get to Gracie’s without being recognised, and lingered outside in the cold for five long minutes, working up the nerve to step inside.

The moment Gracie saw you, her arms were around you and she was babbling about how worried she'd been and how the handsome alpha who used to walk you to work had told her you'd been hurt. Bucky. Bucky had been in to tell her that you were hurt - who else had he told?

You kept your hood up, covering your neck and most of the bandaging. She barely let you get a word in edgeways and, even though you knew it should have been heart-warming that she cared so much, all you felt was numbness knowing that you'd deceived her.

“I just need my last paycheck,” you finally managed to tell her.

“I'll get it for you and don't you worry you can come back to work whenever you're feeling up to it.”

“Back? No, I - I'm not coming back,” you said, confused and feeling worse than ever.

“I know it probably feels like that now, but you'll start to feel like yourself again in no time.”

You stood dumbfounded, not wanting to argue, not wanting to tell her that this was you and there was no going back to the person you'd been pretending to be. Gracie had always been so sweet and kind to you that you didn’t have the heart to ruin things between you.

With your paycheck she gave you an apple pie, commenting on how you looked like you hadn't been eating. You tried to refuse, then tried to offer to pay, but Gracie wouldn’t have it. She ushered you out the door, telling you to head home before the weather turned. 

Unfortunately, you could have done with that warning sooner, as the skies seemed to open the moment you were halfway home. Cold rain quickly soaked through your clothes and threatened to soak through the pie box too.

And that wasn’t even close to the end of your bad luck.

“Mouse!” 

You heard the call just as the elevator doors were closing and, for a brief and wonderful moment, you thought that you’d get away, but a hand slipped between the doors before they could close.

Nikki stepped into the elevator and you found yourself shrinking back.

“Didn’t you hear me?” She asked.

“I -” you didn’t know what to say so you stopped talking and just let out a sigh.

There was a moment of silence and you didn’t even notice that Nikki didn’t hit the button for her floor.

“Bucky told us what happened,” she said.

“Okay,” was all you could think to answer with. 

Again, you felt like you had at Gracie’s; like the moment was happening to someone else and you were just watching it unfold, knowing that there was nothing you could really do to change the predetermined outcome.

“You lied to us.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She asked.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and you started to move towards your door, completely on autopilot. Nikki followed after, not saying another word. And, as you stepped into your apartment, you left the door open so she could follow.

Kicking off your wet shoes, you made your way to the kitchen to put the pie box down before shrugging out of your wet hoodie, letting it drop to the floor. You didn’t realise your mistake until you heard Nikki inhale sharply at the bandaging around your neck.

“What happened?” She asked.

“I thought Bucky told you.”

“He said you’d been hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was.”

You almost shrank back as she closed the distance to look at you, and you saw her face drop as she took in the sight of you.

“It's fine,” you muttered, shivering.

“Nothing about any of this is fine,” she said, ducking her head a little as she tried to get a better look at the bandaging.

You sighed knowing that she was right, but also knowing that it didn't matter anymore.

“What do you want, Nikki?”

“I wanted to see if you were alright, which clearly you're not.”

For the first time since you’d met her, you heard anger in her voice; anger that was directed at you. Your stomach knotted as you were, once again, stuck confronting the life you could have had if you hadn’t gone after Bucky.

“Does it matter anymore?” You asked, not bothering to hold back a tired, resigned sigh.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Bucky told you that I lied about everything, so why do you even care if I'm alright?”

“Because you're my friend.” She said friend, but the tone of her voice didn’t exactly carry the warmth of friendship.

“I'm not though, am I? You don’t even know me.”

“So you’re telling me that it was all lies? Every single second?”

Were you? Some part of you wanted to say yes, to act like you hadn’t enjoyed her and Jade’s company, that you’d just used the pair of them. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t true. It hadn’t all been an act, you did like them, and you regretted ever lying to them.

“No, but -” you took an awkward, shuddered breath, trembling from the cold of your damp clothes, “- I’m not that person. I’m not just some weak, dumb omega.”

“I never thought you were weak or dumb,” she countered, sounding genuinely offended. “None of us ever thought that.”

You could have had this, they would have accepted you. The thought comes to you unbidden and unwanted, and it’s enough to have you turning away from her, bracing yourself on the kitchen counter.

“Is that really what you thought?” Nikki continued. “That we only wanted you around because we thought you were some silly little omega who couldn’t look after herself?”

“That’s all anyone ever sees,” you answered back, tone turning sharp. “Poor little omega who needs to be protected because she can’t take care of herself, silly little omega who just needs an alpha, dumb little omega who -”

“Shut up. You’re the only one here who thinks any of that shit.”

“No, I’m not. Bucky thinks it,” you said softly, keeping your back to her. “He only sees me as an omega.”

“You’re wrong,” Nikki said, continuing when you let out a huff of disbelief. “You haven’t even seen him since you got back, have you?”

“No, why would I?”

“He’s a mess because of you, because of what happened to you. He cares about you.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter anymore either.”

“How can you say that, after everything he’s done to try and help you?” 

The anger had been slowly building, but now it seemed like it had reached a boiling point. Nikki was pissed and some part of you felt like maybe you’d been deliberately trying to rile her so she’d lose her temper and leave. But instead of leaving, she was standing her ground, trying to convince you that you were wrong.

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said again, finally turning back to face her, letting her get a good look at you, at how broken you were. “Even if I wanted to be what he wants me to be, I can’t. The man who took me, he...” tears seemed to come from nowhere, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay in control. “They had to remove my gland, I - I can’t even... I can’t...”

You started to turn away again, not wanting to face her until you had your emotions in check again, but before you could, Nikki’s arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

“It’s not - it’s not. He broke me and I - I fucked everything up. Bucky just wanted an omega and I can’t even be that any more. I’m... I’m nothing now,” you sobbed.

It all started to come out, the upset and the trauma, the part of you that couldn’t come to terms with what had been done to you.

“You’re not nothing,” Nikki told you firmly. “You’re my friend.”

It didn’t matter, the words barely even sank in. You were lost to your spiralling thoughts but, after a few minutes, you managed to pull away from her.

“I’m - I’m fine,” you said, awkwardly scrubbing at your cheeks with your sleeve, doing your best to pretend your little outburst hadn’t just happened. “You should... you should go.”

“No,” was Nikki’s answer. Straight to the point. “I’m not leaving until I’ve gotten some answers.”

For a few seconds you just stared at her, wanting to argue but too exhausted to even get the first word out.

“Go sit down before you fall down,” Nikki ordered. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

You did as you were told, going along with it simply because it seemed easier than arguing. From your seat, you watched her moving around your kitchen as she had done so many times before. You were so tired that you didn’t even think to clear the table as she sat down and pushed a mug towards you.

“What’s this?” She asked, reaching for the stack of sketches you’d left on the table before you could stop her.

You felt your cheeks start to warm as she looked over the first few pages; some newer ones of Bucky, and some older of the Winter Soldier the night he killed your brother. For a few seconds you felt frozen before awkwardly trying to claw the sketches back.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Nikki countered, her expression somewhere between a smirk and worry.

“You said Bucky told you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe he didn’t tell me everything. So, why don’t you start from the start?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re adamant that I shouldn’t think of you as my friend anymore, and I want to know exactly why,” she answered with a shrug.

For a moment you looked down at the drink she’d placed in front of you, your cold hands wrapping around the mug as you let out a heavy sigh.

“Fifteen years ago, the Winter Soldier killed my brother...”

You started from the start, telling her about your brother’s murder and how your quest for revenge had landed you with Rumlow, before explaining how you’d tracked Bucky down after the blip and concocted a plan to get close enough to kill him.

Then, in less detail, you explained the last couple of weeks, and how Bucky had cared for you during your heat. Nikki stayed silent, letting you explain it, right up to the hospital, then you just trailed off into a shrug.

“You didn’t let him see you?” She asked.

You shook your head and, instead of answering, you lifted your mug and took a drink. You’d been speaking for so long that your coffee was almost cold.

“Why not?” She asked.

“I don’t want him to see me like this, I don’t -” you hesitated for a second as you voice broke and your eyes threatened fresh tears, “- it’s just too much. Everything’s changed and there’s no way to fix it.”

“You’re not the only one who’s hurting,” Nikki said softly. “No matter what you think it’s pretty fucking obvious that he cares about you. And you -” she waved at the stack of sketches, “- you’ve clearly got unfinished business with him.”

And then, without warning, before you could even think to say anything, she was getting to her feet.

“Nothing you told me has changed anything,” she said decidedly, “we’re still friends.”

Speechless, you could only watch as she started to head towards the door. You didn’t know if she had somewhere to be or if she’d realised you desperately wanted to be alone - whatever it was, you were glad she was leaving.

“But,” she started again as she reached the door, glancing back at you over her shoulder, “as your friend, I think you owe it to yourself to talk to Bucky.”

She left before you could protest, before you could even tell her that you were planning on leaving and that it really didn’t matter anymore. You were left more confused than ever, not understanding how she could just shrug off everything that you’d done and declare that you were still her friend.

Didn’t you get a say? Didn’t you get to decide how she - how anyone - saw you?

(No. No, of course you didn’t. All this time you’d been trying so hard to control other people’s perception of you, but you were starting to realise that it was impossible.)

You spent the rest of the day in your apartment, looking for new places to live that you could actually afford (there was nothing). You ate some of the pie that Gracie had given you and, in the evening, you ended up at the table again with a pencil in hand.

You just wanted him out of your head; you wanted to forget the softness in his eyes before he’d kissed you that last time, and you wanted to forget how that softness had been replaced by fear and worry the last time you’d seen him as he’d been handing you off to paramedics. You’d always felt empty, but never like this before.

Again, you woke up slumped over a half-finished sketch, a half-hearted attempt to capture his smile on paper. Looking at it in the cold light of day, you weren’t happy with it. It seemed flat and dull, and it didn’t fill your stomach with butterflies the way his rare, happy smiles did.

A hot shower and a change of clothes had you feeling... well, not entirely human but functional at least. Washing around the bandages was a nightmare that had you choking back tears. It was almost funny how you could force away the thoughts of what had been done to you, only to find yourself retraumatised the moment you saw the bandages or moved your neck in such a way that it caused you pain.

The next issue to overcome was your kitchen. You’d never been one for stocking up and, what little you had had in the fridge had gone bad in the weeks that you’d been away, leaving you with nothing but the last of the apple pie to eat and, as much as you liked Gracie’s apple pie, even you knew that you couldn’t survive on it

So, again, you decided that you’d brave the outside world. 

You pulled your hood up and slipped out into the hallway but, as you went to lock the door, the keys slipped from your fingers. As you leaned down to pick them up, you heard Bucky’s door open and you froze, caught between thoughts of diving back into your apartment and fleeing down the hallway.

Indecision saw you doing neither and, instead, you picked up your keys and remained awkwardly frozen. You didn’t turn to look or lift your head, you just stood there.

“They let you out of the hospital,” he said, though there was an unspoken question behind his words; why didn’t you tell me?

You let out a soft sigh. “No, I - I checked myself out.”

“You checked yourself out?” He repeated, almost sounding worried. “Are you - are you okay?”

The shrug you gave was lost somewhere beneath the oversized hoodie. It was pointless to get into it and you were certain he wouldn’t understand. You’d never be alright again,

“Can we just -” he started again, an awkwardness filling his tone, “- can we talk?”

What was there to talk about? What was left? Still, you didn’t look at him.

Oh.

“I’m not going to try to kill you again if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Of course that was it. Of course that was all he cared about. 

Not waiting for his answer, for his relief, you started to walk away from him, feeling like you’d said all that needed to be said to him.

“Wait, that’s not -” he sighed, following after you, his hand finding your wrist and stopping you in your tracks, “- that’s not what this is about. You know that’s not what this is about, don’t you?”

His hand gave a tug on your wrist and, before you could think better of it, you obliged him and turned back towards him, still keeping your head down and your face obscured by the hood.

“Then what, Bucky?” You asked, not sure you wanted him to answer. “What happened was - you said it yourself, it was just biology. I’m an omega, you’re an alpha. Neither of us were thinking straight.”

“I was. And I think you were too, at least for the moments that count.”

You shook your head and took a step back, pulling away from his grasp.

You knew what he was talking about, all those little moments when you’d let your guard down; the night you’d slept in his arms on the floor, the time you’d fallen asleep with your head on his lap as he talked you through the pain, and the way you’d fucked him that final time, offering yourself to him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you answered back bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t want you if he knew about your injuries.

What alpha in their right mind would want an omega that couldn’t be claimed or mated?

“What are you talking about? Of course it still matters, it’s -”

“He ruined me, Bucky,” you interrupted. “They had to remove my mating gland. Now, I - I can’t even...”

Your voice broke and you forced yourself to stop, unwilling to cry in front of him, unwilling to show any more weakness.

While you’d never liked being an omega, never liked feeling like your only purpose in life was to be mated to some alpha, now you felt like only half a person. You weren’t even an omega anymore, you were something less than that. If you couldn’t be mated, you’d never be loved.

Three weeks ago that wouldn’t have bothered you but, since coming to terms with your brother’s death, you suddenly felt like your life was empty and there was nothing left for you.

“Let me see,” he asked softly.

You shook your head but made no effort to stop him as he stepped closer, and you didn’t pull away as his hand slowly pushed your hood down. You looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact as his fingers ghosted over the bandaging. When you still refused to look at him, his hand cupped your cheek and he silently urged you to face him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he told you with a certainty you hadn’t expected.

“Of course it does,” you said, taking a step back, out of his grasp again, acutely feeling the warm touch of his hand on your cheek. “I can’t even pretend to be a good little omega for you like this.”

Realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, almost flooring him. Those three little words that he’d let slip in the heat of the moment, exposing what he wanted, what he wanted you to be for him - not you as you were, but a good little omega.

His mouth opened but, for a few seconds, no words came out.

“That’s why you ran? Because I said that?”

It didn’t matter how he meant for it to sound, you only heard it the way you wanted to hear it; he thought you were stupid, he thought it was your fault for running off and getting yourself caught by Rumlow. You only had yourself to blame for not wanting to be a good little omega.

You turned and started walking away, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Stop, c’mon, just talk to me. Please,” he pleaded, following after you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said it. I didn’t mean it like -”

“I’m not what you want, Bucky,” you said as you hit the elevator call button. “I wouldn’t play the good little omega for you even if I could.”

“Good,” he said, moving to stand in front of you, between you and the elevator doors, desperately trying to get you to look at him. “I don’t want an omega, I want you. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“What about biology?”

After all, that was what had started all of this, wasn’t it? If it hadn’t been for your heat the two of you would never have started getting close. And, now, you couldn’t satisfy his biological desires to mate and claim.

“Fuck biology. I’m not exactly a regular alpha, am I?” He answered back before repeating; “this doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything for me, Bucky,” you tried to explain. “I’ll never belong, I’ll never be loved, I’ll -”

“I love you,” he admitted clumsily and, suddenly, you felt like you were suffocating.

You took a step back, shaking your head, the emptiness inside you feeling like it was growing bigger, turning into a gaping chasm beneath your ribs.

“Don’t say that! Don’t lie to me!” You said, your voice cracking and breaking under the strain of it all.

“I don’t need to put a mark on your neck to know that I love you,” he carried on. “I don’t need you to belong to me, I want you to want to be with me.”

“Stop it! Stop saying that. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

Before he could answer, the elevator doors slid open and you quickly pushed past him, trying to get away. But Bucky followed after you, not willing to let you walk away.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” he said, almost snapping. There was an anger in his tone that you hadn’t really heard before. “I’ve spent enough of my life being told how to think and feel, and I’ll be damned if I go back to that.”

“You don’t love me, Bucky. How could you? You don’t even know me,” you replied, hitting the button for the ground floor, far harder than necessary. “It’s not love, it’s some dumb alpha urge to claim an omega, and you can’t. No one can. Brock saw to that.”

“Will you just fucking listen to me? I don’t care about claiming you. I care about you,” he answered back without hesitation. “What are you so afraid of that you won’t even hear me out?”

Something inside of you snapped at those words and, before you could think about what you were doing, you were shoving him, your open hands slamming against his chest, barely moving him. Again and again, as hard as you could and, when he still didn’t move, you balled your fists and started to bring them down against him.

You weren’t afraid.

You weren’t weak.

You weren’t that scared little omega who hid away while her brother was being murdered.

You weren’t the pathetic little omega that Brock Rumlow had kept for all those years.

You weren’t the weak and tired little omega who couldn’t stop him from tearing your gland.

And you weren’t the sad little omega who’d cried because Bucky had left her to get breakfast.

You weren’t those things anymore. You couldn’t be that person anymore.

“I’m not afraid! I’m not afraid of anything!” You screamed as you hit him. “I’m not some scared little omega who needs protecting. I’m not -”

His arms closed around you, pulling you close, stopping your assault on him.

A sob clawed its way from your throat as you tried to escape his hold, but Bucky just held you tighter. Everything started to come out. You just couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I know,” he said softly, “I know you’re not. You’re the bravest person I know, and I’m so sorry that I fucked up. You’ve always been so much more than an omega to me. I only said it because I thought that was what you wanted; I thought you just wanted an alpha. When you asked me if it was just about biology, I should have been honest. It was never about biology for me.”

And, just like that, he managed to turn everything you’d believed on its head.

You had thought that you were nothing more than an omega to him and, all the while, he’d�� thought he was nothing more than an alpha being used to help you through your heat. How had you both gotten it so wrong? You managed to look up, at him, at the pained look on his face and all you wanted was to understand.

But it was too late.

You knew that you couldn’t handle the pain of almost having him and losing him again, not now, not after everything that you’d been through.

“Mouse, I -” 

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

The elevator doors slid open and you squirmed from his grasp, heading for the door and out onto the street, pulling your hood up as you went. You didn’t even stop as almost knocked over Nikki and Jade on their way into the building, and you certainly didn’t stop when you heard voices calling after you.

You lost yourself for hours, wandering through New York, ducking into the busy crowds of the city, losing yourself in the noise and the bustle - anything not to think about what had happened and what Bucky had told you. 

It felt cruel. It felt needlessly nasty for him to tell you that he loved you now that you couldn’t ever really be with him.

But, on the other hand, there was something else, something hopefully that you didn’t dare think about.

What if he really could love you as you were; unclaimable, unmateable?

It was dark when you returned home, exhausted and without the food that you’d originally left to get. You slipped into your apartment and wanted nothing more than to fall into your warm bed and sleep until all of your problems went away.

So, of course, you should have known that wasn’t how the evening was going to go.

The knock on the door came about fifteen minutes after you got in. At first you tried to ignore it but whoever it was wouldn’t stop.

Finally, you checked the peephole and saw Nikki and Jade standing in the hallway, not looking like they were planning on leaving before seeing you.

“Go away,” you muttered loud enough for them to hear.

“Not happening,” Jade answered. “Open up, we’ve got Thai food.”

“I don’t want -” you started only to find yourself interrupted by Nikki.

“You can either open up, or we can spend the rest of the night out here banging on the door, mouse.”

You knew that they would. You knew that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace until the pair of them got what they wanted.

With a sigh, you unlocked the door and slowly started to open it. That little gesture was more than enough to have the pair of them barging into your apartment before you could even think about reconsidering.

The moment you were hit by the smell of Thai food, your stomach let out an uncomfortable grumble.

As you closed the door, they made their way to your kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery, before moving to the table and starting to set out the food. And you just watched, knowing there was nothing you could possibly say or do to stop them. You didn’t even flinch when Jade started to stack your sketches, taking a moment to look at them.

“You were right, these are really good,” she said to Nikki, and your cheeks instantly started to warm. “Have you shown them to Bucky?”

Your head shook and your gaze dropped, not wanting to think about the alpha across the hall or his declarations of love.

You were beckoned to the table and you took a seat as your favourite Thai dish was placed in front of you, along with a glass of wine.

“Not that this doesn’t look great but... why are you doing this?” You finally asked.

“Because you’re our friend and I saw how empty your cupboards were yesterday,” Nikki shrugged, tucking into her own meal. “You’ve been through a lot and we wanted to make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

“And you looked upset earlier,” Jade added softly.

“And that,” Nikki agreed. “So, are you gonna tell us what happened, or should we ask Bucky?”

With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair, not even managing to take a single bite of food before the conversation shifted to that awkward place. They were Bucky’s friends, you had to remind yourself, of course they were worried about him.

(But, clearly they were your friends too, otherwise they wouldn’t have brought you your favourite food, right? Could it really be possible that they wanted the best for you and Bucky?)

“He told me he loves me,” you confessed, voice quiet, feeling uncertain about saying it aloud as if you were scared it would sound completely ridiculous coming from your mouth.

“And what did you say?” Nikki prompted.

You stalled by reaching for your wine glass and taking a long drink, but they waited, neither of them saying a thing.

“I told him that he couldn’t love me, I’m not -”

“That is such bullshit.”

“Nikki,” Jade said, chastising her girlfriend for her tone, but Nikki didn’t seem to care.

“Of course he loves you. Look at everything he’s been through for you,” Nikki said. “If you don’t love him, that’s fine, that’s your choice, but you don’t get to dictate how he feels about you.”

She was right.

You hated that she was right, hated that it reminded you of what he’d said about people telling him how to think and feel. You were no better than the people who’d hurt him.

“I can’t be what he wants me to be,” you tried again, not really sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

“What does he want you to be?” Jade asked.

“What did he ask you to be?” Nikki added, almost as if she could sense you were going to answer with what you thought rather than what Bucky had told you himself.

“Me,” you answered, your voice turning quieter still. “He said he just wanted me to be me.”

Your stomach hurt and it wasn’t the hunger pangs causing it.

Bucky wanted you. 

He was the first person to ever want you.

He wanted you even now with your gland gone. 

He wanted you, even though you had nothing to offer him.

It was never about you being an omega or him being an alpha. He saw you as a person and he’d let you see him as one too. And, for that, you’d tried to push him away.

A tear rolled down your cheek and, instead of continuing the conversation, you reached for your fork and started to eat.

Nikki and Jade stayed silent, letting you process everything, letting you reach your own conclusions in your own time. You didn’t look at them, but you could feel their gazes wandering to you every now and then as they ate. There wasn’t much to say after that though, for the rest of the meal, you found yourself thinking over every little moment you’d shared with Bucky, re-examining it under a new lens.

He’d brought you your favourite cereal.

He’d held you under the freezing cold water of the shower to help with your fever.

He’d always let you decide what you wanted from him, he’d never once tried to push or tried to convince you, and he’d only ever kissed you when you let him.

He’d trusted you enough to tell you about his time with Hydra.

If he’d wanted an omega, he could have claimed you the last time you’d had sex. You’d offered him your neck, your gland, and if he hadn’t said those three little words, you would have let him claim you.

When the conversation started up again, it was muted and you only half listened as Jade and Nikki spoke, clearing up the mess before letting themselves out. Nikki lingered in the doorway, telling you she’d be back tomorrow and all you could offer in response was a nod. 

Already, you were starting to understand that there was no getting rid of her and, now you’d had a chance to think about it, you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

You were left with your thoughts and you kept circling back to the same thing. Bucky.

A few hours had passed since Nikki and Jade left when you found yourself slipping out of your apartment and into the hallway, eyes fixed on Bucky’s front door.

His scent lingered outside his door, stronger than you remembered it ever being. You found yourself closing your eyes and breathing it in, remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in his arms, face pressed against his neck, basking in his scent.

Before you could second guess or change your mind, you stepped forwards, knocking on his door. 

Ten seconds passed - long enough for you to take a step back, to start to think you might be making a mistake. But then the door opened.

Your eyes went wide when you saw him, wearing nothing but his boxers, his skin flush. He took one look at you and, suddenly, you felt breathless, smothered by his scent and inexorably drawn to him. Shit, you realised entirely too late, his rut had hit.

“What?” He asked.

You could see his knuckles turning white where he gripped the door, anchoring himself in place, like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you.

“I just - I -” you started and stopped, struggling to find the words. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“For what?”

And that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Everything. What I said earlier, how I’ve been acting, I -” you shook your head. A moment later, you noticed the way his chest was rising and falling and you knew that it was a stupid time to try and have a heartfelt conversation. “A-are you okay?”

“Fine, just -”

“Your rut?”

Bucky nodded.

Part of you wanted to shrink back, to retreat to your apartment, but another part of you was sick of running.

Instead of stepping back, you stepped forward, pushing against the door and into his apartment. Bucky moved out of the way, a confused expression on his face. But, despite his uncertainty, you could tell he was still in control of himself. You could tell that you’d always be safe with him.

He let the door fall shut as he turned to face you, not moving towards you, letting you decide what you wanted - if you wanted anything at all.

And that was precisely why you took a step towards him, closing the distance so you could place a hand on his bare chest, right above his racing heart. His skin was hot to the touch, clammy, but it was nowhere near as bad as you had been expecting. His rut must have only just started in the last couple of hours.

“Did you mean it?” You asked softly.

“Every word. I love you.”

You leaned closer, wrapping your arm around his waist and resting your head on his chest. Bucky pressed his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, as if you were his and your scent alone would see him through this. But the second he realised what he was doing, he pulled back a little.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“You helped me...”

“Help? Is that all it is?” His voice betrayed his pain at the thought and had your stomach tying itself in knots.

“I - I don’t know what it is, Bucky,” you confessed, lifting your head to look him in the eyes again. “I want to be here. I want to be with you, but I can’t be yours...”

“I don’t need you to belong to me. I just want you to let me love you.”

“What if I can’t?” You asked, giving away your insecurities. “I don’t know how. What if I fuck it up?”

“You won’t,” he answered. “Can we just try?”

Despite your fears, you managed a nod, and it was all the sign that Bucky needed.

His hands framed your face and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the first time all over again, he kissed you like a man starved of affection, like a man who really did love you. You pressed closer to him, both arms wrapping around his waist as you finally surrendered to what you wanted.

“Tell me this is okay?” He muttered against your lips. “I don’t want to rush you or hurt you.”

Your heart bled at his compassion, the way he was putting you first even though he was going through his rut, and you knew that he’d stop if you asked him to. But you didn’t. You didn’t want it to stop. No, you wanted something good to finally come from all the bad.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Please, don’t stop.”

He lifted you off your legs quickly wrapped around him as he carried you into the bedroom. 

It felt like that first night all over again, only this time you weren’t going to ruin it. 

He sat with you on his lap and, already, you could feel the press of his erection between your thighs and it was enough to cause you to squirm, your hips eagerly rocking against his. Little moans and whimpers quickly started to spill from your lips and into his, but it wasn’t enough. 

(When it came to Bucky, nothing would ever be enough.)

Pulling back a little, you sank to your knees between his legs, tugging his boxers down. You were sure to keep your hands where he could see them, your fingers gripping his thighs as you bowed your head and parted your lips. Bucky’s fingers tangled in your hair, but he didn’t try to move you, he let you go at your own pace. 

A low and breathy groan spilled from him as the tip of his cock slipped between your lips and you started to lightly suck, running your tongue over his slit and lapping up everything that leaked from him.

Looking up at him, you felt yourself wanting to submit, wanting to give yourself to him in whatever way that you could. His heavy scent already had slick pooling between your thighs, eager to feel him inside you again. 

One of your hands moved to grip the base of his cock as your lips sunk down it and you felt him twitch in your mouth, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft throbbing with every little move you made. 

You started slowly, bobbing your head and dragging your lips up and down him, letting out the sweetest little moans for him, while Bucky panted and groaned like he was already on the brink. Your eyes watered as he nudged the back of your throat, but you didn’t let that stop you, you just blinked and carried on.

His mouth went slack and you could see him fight against himself, desperately trying to hold back. That was when you doubled down. Hollowing your cheeks against him, you moved faster, chasing your lips with your hand, making sure no inch of his cock went untouched.

“Fuck, mouse, I’m -” he tried to warn you but it was too late.

Bucky groaned your name as his cock started to pulse, his hip bucking upwards as he started to fill your mouth. You stayed where you were, lips wrapped tight around him, your eyes fixed on his.

(Fuck. How were you only just noticing how beautiful he was when he came?)

Finally, you sat back on your heels, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked up at him.

“So that’s what that feels like when you don’t try to stab me,” Bucky joked breathlessly, a ridiculous grin tugging at his lips.

You tried your best to suppress a laugh, but it managed to escape you. And it reminded you why him, why you wanted this (whatever this ended up being).

He reached for you, helping pull you back onto his lap so he could kiss you again, groaning as he tasted himself on your lips. Almost immediately, he was hard again, and you were quickly tugging off your shirt and bra.

“Mouse, are you sure?” He asked again, barely able to pull himself from your lips.

“Yes, Bucky,” you told him just as desperately. “I want you.”

He turned, dropping you onto your back on the bed and pulling off your leggings and panties, leaving you completely bared to him. Without thinking or waiting for him to say anything, you got on all four, presenting yourself to him, but you quickly found yourself flipped onto your back again.

“I want to see your face, mouse. I want to see all of you,” Bucky told you.

You watched as he crawled onto the bed and over you, his hands and lips skimming up your stomach and over your chest until he was above you.

As you pulled him down into another eager kiss, he slipped a hand between your legs. You gasped against his lips as two fingers slid into your slick pussy and started to grind yourself against his hand, desperate to show him that you wanted this.

You were already so worked up from sucking his cock that you easily fell apart for him, and you knew that was precisely what Bucky wanted from you. He wanted you to be ready for his cock and, while he was doing everything he could to try and make this about your pleasure as much as his own, you could tell his rut was taking its toll on his patience. 

You moaned his name when you felt the press of his cock at your entrance and arched your back at the all too familiar feeling of him slowly filling you. Your arms wrapped tight around him and your thigh hitched on his hip. It was perfect, amazing. It was all you’d ever need.

He stilled inside you once you’d taken every inch, staring down at you, checking for any signs of discomfort.

“It’s okay,” you said in a low whine. “I’m okay. Bucky, please -”

Bucky didn’t make you beg (though you were sure you would have). His hips started to move, slowly at first, but the gentle pace didn’t last for long. You eyes rolled back and your back bowed, pressing your body against his as he finally gave in to his base instincts and let his rut control him.

It didn’t take much for you to come again, crying out beneath him as he fucked you through your orgasm, letting out the filthiest sounds you’d ever heard from him as he did. Every drive of his hips forced a moan from you, and every sound was in worship of him and what he was doing to you.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You almost screamed, not even caring to think about how half the building might be able to hear you.

He kissed you to stifle some of the noise that you were both making and it wasn’t long before you were coming again for him, your body seeming to want to completely submit to him and everything he was doing.

After an unspecified amount of time, his thrusts started to become shorter, more desperate.

“Mouse...” he warned, his voice an awkward gasp, not stopping or slowing.

Rationally, you knew what letting him come inside you meant during his rut, but you didn’t want to think rationally. You wanted this. You wanted Bucky. You wanted to submit to him and take his knot.

“Don’t pull out,” you finally gasped, your fingers pressing into his back, holding him tight against you.

There was no telling if it was your words or just the fact that he’d been close, but the moment you finished speaking, you felt him start to pulse inside you. The sensation alone was enough to push you into another orgasm, your walls fluttering and trembling as you felt his knot start to swell inside you, trapping you together.

Your eyes rolled back and a series of desperate moans spilled from you.

“Alpha,” you groaned, giving yourself over to him completely, your eyes closing.

Your head moved, presenting your bandaged neck, even though you knew he couldn’t mark you or claim you. His hand gripped your chin, turning your face towards him as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth before kissing you again.

When he finally came up for air, he pressed his forehead to yours, still panting, still completely overwhelmed. You reached up, fingers running through his sweat-damp hair, just as overcome by the moment as he was. You’d never experienced a moment like this and you quickly understood why.

“I - I love you too, Bucky,” you confessed.

Your arms gripped tight around him, letting him know that you didn’t want him to move, that you were happy with the weight of him on top of you while his knot locked into place and he came inside you, his cock twitching as it pumped you full. You nuzzled against his neck, intoxicated by his scent, completely overwhelmed in a new and amazing way. 

“Stay with me,” he asked breathlessly. “Not as my omega, but as the person I love.”

“Yes,” you answered without a second of hesitation.

End Note : And that's the end😭 I've had a blast writing this. I never thought I'd enjoy writing omegaverse this much so that's been an interesting discovery. I might come back to this and write an epilogue but I'm actually pretty happy with where this ended; it's open enough that I can come back to it for a second fic but it's also sweet enough that I don't think (or at least I hope) no one is disappointed??

Thanks so much for sticking with this, I really hope you've enjoyed it. I know I'm not great with comments and reblogs but I promise I do read every response that I get even if I don't get around to replying and it's really meant so much to read everything you've all had to say about this one! (also same goes for comments on Ao3)

I do have a potential idea for another Bucky fic in future, so feel free to stick around for that (it won't be until the new year because working retail over the holidays is draining enough without starting a new fic).

As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes

@thecraziestcrayon @silas-aeiou @danzer8705 @notpotatocap @prttylight

@skittslackoffilter @mcira @chimchoom @highwaytomichelle

[savagewildnerness]

There’s really an awful lot of pondering on death & suicide & what it takes to endure existence in The Vampire Lestat… for all it’s viewed as a lighter book than Interview with the Vampire! Like, to the degree that every single main character is at some point either suicidal or wishes to die… or that actually happens. Even though the majority of them are immortal!

It’s making me wonder on this re-read, where I try to think about it more deeply, rather than just reading it - is an innate understanding of how difficult it is to endure/how easy it could be to just slip from existence a reason many of us initially loved this book? Is that Anne can articulate so well that desire to escape oneself & how it feels when that’s impossible one of the most important themes of the books?

Obviously, I’ve spoken about it often: I always associated with Nicolas a lot. Primarily due to how he perceives his own ability/experience of violin playing (I was 12. I definitely wasn’t then, nor am I now anywhere near as cynical as Nicolas….) but I don’t say it is *only* the violin & Nicolas’ music & how he feels to play and about his music that I associate with. Not least because in my opinion, how Nicolas perceives his own music is a reflection of how he perceives himself & how he perceives the world.

In any case, after my last night pondering on Armand’s internal desolation & the way he is actually most emptied of feeling when filled with some external source… yet that’s what he desires/needs because it is the only way he can feel safe… and he’d welcome death it feels if it came to him rather than him having to seek it, and going against God.

Well anyway, I haven’t read on yet, but I listened to the next bit on audiobook as I drive today. And it really struck me how delicate everyone’s mind & heart is.

Nicolas is actually like a fragile genius as a vampire - creating wildly creative, dark plays, articulating the horrors he feels are true (& thus creating Good Art Actually Lestat!) yet he cannot cope. But is it really *madness* that Nicolas screams of horrors in the streets to mortals; that he wants to create a league of vampires; that he wants humans to destroy them all; that he cannot bear it? It seems quite natural to me. Not mad really at all!

And Lestat too, gives himself over to death in despair. For all he talks of enduring, he would not have been able to rise this first time he went into The Earth, but for Marius saving him. And no wonder. He has lost everything. Lestat, talking on fate & how if we escape it, perhaps it waits for us.

It’s hard for me, as a friend died last week at a similar mortal age to Nicolas’ 30 years & this whole part is death & inability to cope with the simple Horror of existence. (Albeit; monstrous existence… but existence *is* monstrous as it is, right? Vampires are a fantastical representation of the very real & way more horrific in my opinion (as it can’t be contained in beautiful, sensual, philosophical vampires in reality…) truth of the actual horror of existence for us all.)

And Lestat speaking on fate reminds me too of Debbie. A girl I went to secondary school with. When she was 11 she got Lupus & her secondary school years were awful, but she endured. I didn’t keep in touch with her after school & her Uncle worked in aircraft engineering & got her a good job. But she survived Lupus in her teenage years, only for death to claim her at 23 in a totally unrelated way… as if it had always just lain in wait. She had escaped it, but then fate waited for her.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I kind of want to create a poll, but I’ve just made myself laugh out loud at what that poll would be - like something like *Did your wee tween self relate to the self-immolatory desires of vampires?* Nice cheery question for a Monday!

I don’t mean it in a depressing way though. We can talk about The Horrors, while allowing joy & fun & play & amusement & silliness & innocence & childlikeness, right? Can we? I am not sure what I’m getting at…?

But this part is hard for me to read right now. And yet cathartic always too. Because… we all feel it, right? Anne is expressing what we humans feel in our tiny existences too.

How to bear it? The overwhelmingness of that.

Right?

[dontcxckitup]

Only reluctantly he pulled his hand away again, the urge to just leave his hand on her cheek and lean in to kiss Vera so strong...but he did manage to contain himself. He was a gentleman, after all. Or at least on the outside. Thankfully refilling the glasses was distraction enough. He handed one to Vera, then filled his own, and placed the bottle back down next to his feet on the floor.

He didn't show what he was thinking; features nearly motionless. In all honesty, though, he was furious at The Foundation. Furious that Vera was stuck with them, that they had the nerve to keep her under their watchful eye - and in their claws.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of an interesting person," his brow rose, and he cast his gaze back up to meet Vera's. Holding his glass so they could clink them together for whatever reason. It just felt right to do so.

"When I'm not at work...I like to read a lot, but you know that already. I...go running or swimming, and sometimes I do some weightlifting." Gareth shrugged his shoulders. "I told you I'm not interesting."

She put her hand over his and took a beat to just breathe. They had so little time together where they could simply be themselves. Vera wanted to enjoy those hopeless hours. "I've told you about the alterations and I've told you about my unusual memory. More of a curse than a gift in this line of work. At least in the long run. Any attempt to replace what I've held onto after fifteen years of this would leave me catatonic. There would be no way for a drug of that magnitude to discern what could stay and what needed erasure, because I hold onto all of it." "I can recall a truly dangerous amount of information and I should consider myself fortunate that this is merely a punishment, because the company does, to some degree, understand my value." Vera looked him in the eye. "When they do finish with me, if I make it that long, I won't be facing retirement." Vera smiled a small, soft smile right back at him. "Yeah. Yeah. Make it double. We go big tonight. And tell me literally anything about yourself, Gareth Mallory! Stop pinning me into spilling my darkest secrets without telling me so much as your hobbies or your anything." Important to be able to bounce back from mortal turmoil when one worked for The Foundation.

[bluegrasshellbard]

My design for The White Lord of Alagadda ft Dr.Willow (for a height comparison). They are quite small compared to the Lords, and Lord White likes to dress them up like a little doll.

[july-19th-club]

was looking up the only ash wednesday song ive ever loved (offering of ashes. btw. or just ashes. tom conry 1978 i know nothing else about this man except that he wrote this song) (for fic purposes) and stumbled upon a forum full of catholics discussing the revised version that was included in the 2021 hymnal and boyyyyyyyy the trads HATE this song. it was a 70s piece and a bit hippydippy in the sense that, for a catholic song, it is low on guilt and strong on self-forgiveness, and the first guy in the thread just has to point out that the unrevised version was too pelagian to be properly catholic

[magic-can]

this just got a thousand times funnier

[masqueradewaltz]

i feel like atsv was pandering to the marvel fans a little. itsv remains superior.

[zaczenemiji]

I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—

The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕

Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster

Emi’s Favorite

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Jealousy (very slight)

Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ

MASTERLIST

Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.

You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.

Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.

He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.

You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.

He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”

Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.

Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.

“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.

The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.

Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”

Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.

“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.

Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.

Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.

“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.

You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.

Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.

Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.

You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.

Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.

“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.

She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.

“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.

Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.

The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.

“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.

“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”

Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.

With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.

“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.

You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.

Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.

You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.

Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.

He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.

“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.

You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”

You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.

You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.

“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”

You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”

You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”

Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.

“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”

Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.

Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”

Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@scribble0rat

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[troublesomesnitch]

Meeting Vhagar - Drabble

Aemond x Wife!Reader

Much to your dismay, Prince Aemond insists on bringing your little son to Vhagar. Set sometime during the Dance.

Contents: Just a little practice thing... Dad!Aemond, Targaryen parenting, subtle fluff. Little bit of subtle angst too. No filth this time..

Words: 3000, and very sloppily proof read.

The carriage can only take you so far as to the Iron Gate. 

Beyond its massive doors, the Rosby Road winds North, poorly maintained and full of potholes, as it is the shortest of the main roads, and thus the least important. It is not as busy as others, and the gate is not guarded as well - clearly, as the men who should be protecting it are presently engaged in a game of cards, laid out on top of a large, flat rock.

That is where the driver will wait, but it is not your destination. 

There is another little trail. One that runs in the opposite direction, scarcely used and partially hidden, visible only to those who know it. No horse or wagon can make the journey, and there is no option but to walk - first along a narrow, trodden path, and then further still, down treacherous steps, carved into the very rock the city rests upon. Past the watchtower, and across the Northern beach, to the vast caves of Maegor the Cruel, where Vhagar has made her nest.

You walk alone, just the two of you. The prince in his coat and boots, and yourself in attire much less suited for the occasion. Fine shoes, fine skirts, and with your little son cradled in your arms. 

The gentle rocking of the carriage has lulled him to sleep. Four months old, he is, and a source of such joy that your poor heart can scarcely contain it. From his first high-pitched cry when you brought him into the world - oh, the pains of labour were all but forgotten, as was the threat of the raging war. And when the prince came to see his son, you could hardly even bear to let him hold him. 

He wanted to bring the boy much sooner, but both you and the dowager queen staunchly put your foot down against that. Children should not be brought outside the home until they have at least lived through the first perilous weeks, and possibly even their first fever. And even then, most would argue, they have no business being around ferocious animals. 

“I don’t like it,” you say, for the umpteenth time, taking the hand offered to you by the prince to help you cross a treacherous stretch. “It is mad, bringing an infant to such a beast - ” 

“Vhagar should know him,” he says, steadfast and determined. As he has done whenever you voiced your concern. 

It does nothing at all to calm your nerves. But it is his most compelling argument, and the only reason you have allowed this lunacy in the first place. So the dragon would recognise the boy as his, and as one of her own. So she would know to protect him, if - something should happen. 

You make it halfway across the pebbled beach before the prince pauses. And you do too, lifting your gaze to follow his line of sight; see what he is looking at. 

An enormous, greyish mass, some yards away, that at first you thought was a moss-grown rock, or years of washed up seaweed. But the mass makes a rumbling noise and begins to shift and lift itself, slowly and carefully, as though with much effort. Part of it becomes a leg, another part unfurls into a great wing, and the rock nearest to you becomes a head, with a mouth full of jagged teeth, and two eyes opening slowly. Amber in colour, and with slitted pupils staring straight at you. 

“She can sense me,” the prince declares, with no small amount of pride, lifting his chin and straightening his back. 

You, however, are paralysed, utterly shocked by her vastness. You have never seen Vhagar this close before, and though you knew of her impressive size, it is one thing to see her soaring across the sky, and quite another to be right next to her, unprotected and vulnerable.

It seems to you that the span of her wings could cover half the city, that entire buildings could fit in her mouth. And certainly, she could end all three of you with her fiery breath, or with a single swipe of her claw or her massive tail. One wrong move, even if accidental, even if she did not mean to - you would all be dead. 

“Come,” the prince says, pushing at the small of your back. But you stall, digging in your heels, frozen in place at the sight of her. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” you stammer. “We should go back - it is not safe…”

The prince gives an overbearing, if somewhat irritated sigh. 

“Dragons are loyal beasts,” he reassures. “Vhagar is loyal to me, she obeys me - ”

“She is a beast,” you hiss, hugging your drowsy son closer to your chest. “She cannot be trusted. It is too dangerous - I won’t let you bring him any closer - ”

Prince Aemond does not like to be challenged. He turns around to look at you coolly, his voice low and scornful as he speaks. 

“Is your opinion of me so unfavourable, wife, that you think I would risk harm to my own son?”

“No,” you respond, quietly, but truthfully. Since you were married, your opinion of the prince has only risen, slowly but surely. And it continues to do so, still - though perhaps not right now. “I don’t like it - ”

“Mhm - so you said,” your husband says dryly, all but wrenching the swaddled boy from your arms. 

He does not complain, the boy. Prince Aemond comes to visit often, at least once a day, and sometimes more. He sits with the child, reads to him, lets him fall asleep in his arms - not for very long each time, but it is at least enough for the little boy to recognise his father’s low voice and stern face as something safe and comfortable. As is evident from the way he now settles against the prince’s leather-clad chest, tangling his little fist into a lock of his hair. 

The beast remains still, pensive as her rider approaches, her serpent’s eyes fixed on the thing in his arms, on what he is bringing her. Your most precious treasure, your life’s very purpose, completely at the mercy of the greatest dragon in the world. 

You might have felt more at ease if the soft, sparse hair on his head had been silver like his father’s, but alas, it is not. It is exactly like yours, and only the bright violet of his eyes gives away his true inheritance. 

And that seems like too little a thing for such a large creature to notice. 

Prince Aemond calls out in that strange language of his, with the open vowels and the rolling R’s. It is beautiful, especially in his mouth, and the dragon responds at once, contorting herself to let him touch her wrinkled neck with affection. Which is a strange sight, but what is even stranger is the way she grumbles - as though she likes it. He speaks to her as if she was another person, in long, full sentences that are much too complicated for you to even attempt to understand. There is only one word you can make out, for the sole reason that he says it twice - yoreliatzeh, or yorelatzya, or something akin to that. You haven’t a clue as to what it means. 

Vhagar snorts once, and the prince steps back to give her room to move, to rise up onto her legs and bring her head closer, her nose almost touching his hip. While you stand at a distance, staring at the utterly bizarre scene playing out in front of you. A fearsome, vicious beast, sniffing the child like a dog would. Gently and carefully, only she is so big that each of her cautious breaths is like a small gust of wind, making your husband’s hair billow about his face. When she makes a grunting noise, he carefully unwraps some of the swaddlings, holding the child up to let her see him better, smell him better. 

He is bright, your darling boy, and curious, like all babes and children. His eyes are wide as they take in Vhagar’s scaly form, and he gives a soft squeal of surprise or wonder, kicking his little feet under the blankets. Reaching his arm towards the beast's massive head, her massive teeth -

“Aemond, please - ” you gasp, clutching your hands to your throat. 

The prince turns his head to give you a stern look, one that clearly shows he is running out of patience. And maybe this time it is justified, because your fearful outburst startles the boy, who begins to squirm unhappily in his father’s arms. Fussing and whimpering; a sound that is as painful to you as salt to an open wound. 

“Bring him to me,” you plead, “can’t you see that he is frightened - ” 

“He is frightened because you are frightened,” the prince says, as soft spoken as always, but with a hint of something sharp underneath.

He cradles the boy closer to his chest, bouncing him gently, holding his head and murmuring soothing words. Exactly as you would do, and to the same effect. It calms him down, and his big, round eyes start darting around again, taking in his surroundings. The dragon, the grey sea, the fine silver clasps on his father’s clothes. It does seem that the latter intrigues him the most. 

Vhagar lifts her neck and tilts her head just slightly, seemingly very interested in the child, in this tiny little creature; the way he moves his little limbs, and his soft coos and noises. There is an almost… thoughtful look in her eyes, or at the very least a curious one. 

It makes you wonder about the extent of her perception. Whether she truly knows that this is Aemond’s child, that it came from him, from his body, his flesh. If she can sense it somehow, through the bond they purportedly share, or if she understood it when he spoke to her. 

How intelligent is a dragon? Are they like dogs or horses, able to learn the meaning of certain words, but not the full breadth of language? Or do they think as people, with nuance and emotion, and a mind as vivid as your own. 

You do not know. You suppose no one really does. 

“Come,” the prince calls, reaching his arm towards you, beckoning you closer. However, a single glance at Vhagar, whose mighty gaze is now focused on you, is enough to inspire disobedience in even the most well-behaved wife.

“I would really rather not - ”

“She must know the both of you,” he insists. 

“Is that - necessary?” you squirm, wringing your hands, very much aware that you are not a dragon rider, that you haven’t a drop of Valyrian blood. “Vhagar has no reason to think fondly of me…”

The prince scoffs. 

“Are you not the mother of my child?” he says. “Now, come.” 

You must go to him. He is your lord husband, and he is a prince, and such is the way of things. But you are not at all glad to, and you walk with shaky, reluctant steps, gripping onto his elbow and cowering behind him like a frightened child. 

You close your eyes when the dragon lowers her head once more, bringing it towards you. A sudden, low-pitched growl makes your heart tremble, but the prince speaks a soft command. Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī.

It has a calming effect on you too. As does the arm he keeps outstretched in front of you - solely for your comfort, you assume, as it would make no difference whatsoever, should Vhagar decide that she does not like you. But you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

The air is warm, this close to her, and your skirts move around your legs when she breathes, slowly and deeply, while the prince speaks to her in soft tones. That word again, the one from before, and many others. You know the words for wife, for king, for father, brother, sister, even for dragon, but he says none of those now, so you have no guess as to what he is telling her. Or if she understands. Or what he would call you, if not his wife. 

This woman is my - spouse? lady? lover?

You do have a kind of love for him, and sometimes you think he does for you, too. Sometimes. One can never be sure of anything with the prince, who keeps himself so closely guarded. Even after more than a year of marriage. Even now that you have given him a child. 

The birth went mercifully well, but your recovery was long, and he has only recently begun to come to your bed again. And so far, only a handful of times. The first time, it was so painful for you that the act could not be completed, and the second time, he finished so quickly that it barely even counts. The third was better. Pleasurable for both of you, but still strange after going so long without it - at least for you. It is both likely and possible that the prince satisfied his urges elsewhere while your body was indisposed. You do not know. Nor do you wish to. 

The ground shifts beneath your feet, and the heat around you lessens, as does the heavy smell of burned flesh and brimstone, the very same one that so often clings to your husband’s clothes. When you open your eyes it is to the sight of Vhagar, settled onto her belly, her head laid atop her claws. Calm and docile, and with a deep rumble coming from her chest - one that is probably a sign of contentment, even if it sounds utterly terrifying. 

“Touch her,” the prince commands, giving a gentle push to your back. “You have nothing to fear, touch her.” 

It is quite clear that Vhagar is unruffled by your presence, that she is resting. But with her eyes heavy and half-closed, it makes her look so menacing, so evil - even though you know that evil does not exist inherently in any beast. Only in those who train it. 

You draw in a steadying breath, gathering up your courage, reaching your hand out - only to then think better of it and let it fall. 

“I am afraid to,” you whisper.

The prince sighs. But his hand closes gently around yours, bringing it to rest on the side of her nose, first the tips of your fingers, and then your whole palm. 

It is like nothing else you have ever felt, her scales. You always imagined that a dragon’s skin would feel like leather, but Vhagar’s skin is so much tougher, so much rougher, like running your hand over little rocks. And she is warm - so warm, as though a fire is always burning somewhere in her throat. 

She does not object at all to your touch, even when the prince withdraws his own hand, leaving only yours. Only you and Vhagar. The largest, oldest being in the world. 

To think, the things she has seen. The conquest, the Dornish Wars, the very founding of the realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Dozens of castles have crumbled in her fire, and thousands of people have perished, and she has fought and won hundreds of battles; torn through stone, rock and earth as though it was boiled jelly. 

It is at once terrifying and romantic, like something from a fairytale, or stories of ancient times. A creature of such myth and legend that you almost feel as though you should bow down to her, as one does before a great matriarch.

Vhagar the Conqueror. Queen of all Dragons. 

She closes her eyes when you draw back. 

“He might ride her too, some day,” the prince says quietly. Wistfully. 

“But dragons only have one rider - ” you protest, cutting yourself off when you realise what he meant. What he left unsaid. 

This is war. The realm is at war. Death is everywhere; at the end of a blade, in the point of an arrow. And if not on the field of battle, then in tainted water or plague-ridden camps; empty bellies or festering wounds.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” you mutter, looking down at your feet. Your dirtied shoes. 

The prince does not answer. A heavy mood has settled over the rocky beach, something vast and bleak and empty, only compounded by the surroundings. The colourless sky, the sombre crashing of waves. Even Vhagar gives a doleful sigh, as though she too is weary of what is to come.

She has been the prince’s companion since childhood. He was born to the queen, but Vhagar made him what he is, made him ruthless, made him brutally ambitious. Made him Aemond One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer. Prince Regent, Protector of the Realm. She has known him boy and man, as well as any, and better than most. She has known him in life, and she may yet know him in death.

You push that thought away as forcefully as your mind allows. You shouldn’t think such things. 

A coo from your son breaks the tension, and his eyes turn to the sky, where a large heron is flapping its wings. The afternoon is turning to evening, and soon the bell will ring for supper - something warm and comforting, you hope. You are cold, your breasts feel sore, and you have most certainly had enough excitement for one day. For several days, in fact.

“Can we go, please,” you breathe, looking up at your husband with wide, pleading eyes. 

“She is tired,” he says, with a soft glance at Vhagar’s terrifying face, and a gentle touch to her side. “Yes, we should.”

—

You walk slower on the way back. Uphill, with sore feet, and your boy now fast asleep in your arms. Safe and snug where he belongs. 

“My Prince,” you begin, sweet and innocent. “What does… yoreliatzeh mean?”

There is a sly little smile on his face when you look at him, a self-assured look in his remaining eye.

“Jorrāeliarza,” he corrects, with an artful pause before he continues. As though to keep you in suspense. “It means dear. Or… beloved.”

If he sees the sudden blush on your face, he does not let on. 

“Jorālitzeh.”

“No,” he says. “Jor-rāe-liar-za.”

“Jor-rāe-liar-za,” you repeat, trying your very best to mimic the exact movements of his mouth, the way he gently rolls his tongue. “Jorrāeliarza.”

“Better,” he nods, and then you round a corner, just in time to see the guards hastily hide their cards away, and the driver shuffling back towards the carriage, eagerly shoving his winnings into a pocket. 

Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. 

Dear. Beloved. 

You like that very much.  

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness, @aemondsbabygirl, @qyburnsghost, @blackswxnn

I am a mess with the tagging, I'm so sorry if I forgot or wrongly tagged anyone. Let me know, I will fix it.

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)

[fxstpace]

the very first night

summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au word count: 19.7k

↳ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ↳ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either. 

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all. 

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that. 

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require. 

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee. 

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought. 

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?” 

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?” 

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider. 

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn. 

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn. 

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots. 

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag. 

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines. 

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?” 

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. 

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :) 

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily. 

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.��� Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him. 

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is. 

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap. 

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea. 

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths. 

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago. 

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own. 

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.” 

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones. 

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him. 

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says. 

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. ���I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?” 

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused. 

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again. 

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well. 

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?” 

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. 

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead. 

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants. 

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway. 

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :) 

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest. 

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.” 

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence. 

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours. 

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils. 

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching. 

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him. 

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN 

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil. 

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back. 

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well. 

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him. 

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit. 

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place? 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying. 

He remembers. 

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly. 

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want? 

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?” 

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin. 

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects. 

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm. 

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves. 

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired. 

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow. 

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” 

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts. 

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again. 

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon. 

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat. 

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity. 

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table. 

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane. 

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit. 

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him. 

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?” 

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone. 

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly. 

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into. 

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship. 

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan. 

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth. 

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips. 

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily. 

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders. 

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name. 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed. 

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause. 

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching. 

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu. 

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that. 

[angelfic]

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you���ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

© angelfic 2023.

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."