#i added the taglist onto the actual chapters

[umemiyan]

i keep editing links and stuff on these chapters and the masterlist don’t perceive me dhdjsjsjdje i’m learning

also i’m crying over all the nice comments 🥹 thank you guys so much ❤️

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Limits [Final]

There's only so much he can take.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, misunderstanding, smut, (slightly) mean Dom kook, a slap to the thigh, uh, knot is mentioned, it's nasty, unprotected but MC is mentioned to be on birth control, he holds her by the throat? Idk he also has his fingers in her mouth-

Length: 5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: This will act as a final chapter. The main story is therefore wrapped up- but as always, if you want drabbles, you can still request them.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook has never understood the phrase of your ‘heart stopping’- because how could it ever? You’d be dead in that case. But right in this moment, he finally gains the knowledge by experiencing it first hand- eyes wide open and body frozen.

Why are you in his bed? Barely dressed, snuggled up to him who’s only in his underwear?

He thinks through the whole process of yesterday to make sense of this. Did you both get potentially drunk last night? No, not at all. You and him had simply packed your things to drive you to your parents hours away, after having contacted them and told them about everything. He remembers driving you there himself, unloading your bags, leaving you there after waving and driving off. And added to that, that was not last night. It was almost an entire week ago.

He hasn’t seen you in days. So what are you doing here?

It’s not a dream either, clock on his nightstand ticking away, world outside going about its day as the window isn’t all closed to let some fresh air in at night. And yet, you’re there- bare legs entangled with his, arms holding onto his.

He doesn’t really feel alarmed by the fact that you somehow entered his apartment- you know where he lives after all, and you know the passcode to his door, so it’s not really surprising at all. But what he is questioning is why you’re here- and why you’re in his bed, most of all. Has he forgotten some conversation you might’ve had? Or has something happened to make you so upset that you were craving the comfort of him at any cost?

Now he’s worried.

Shaking you a little to wake you up seems to not be very effective- because you just frown, slap his hand away and bury your face right back into his shoulder as if he’s nothing but an annoying fly. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook tells you, and at that you actually open one of your eyes, looking up at him with your tail wagging beneath the covers. “What’re you doing here?” He asks, and you frown again turning onto your back to look up at him who’s sat up by now.

“Why do you sound so upset about that?” You complain with almost a pout in your tone, arms crossed. “I thought couples love reuniting.” You say, and he looks at you, confused.

“Couples?” He questions, and you nod, now visibly unsure as well.

“Well, yeah?” You say, attitude fading and being replaced by uncertainty. “I mean.. we haven’t said the L-word yet, but like.. I thought..” you start, scanning his face for any sign that he realizes what you believed you two were. “..since you uh.. called me baby in the car..” you drift off, and still- there’s no sign of anything on Jungkook’s face as he thinks, and digs around in his memories for the correct moment he might’ve said that. He did, maybe. But he doesn’t remember.

“did I?” He asks, and regrets it the moment he watches the shame visibly wash over you- from the way your ears pin back to the slight change in your gaze, he knows he fucked up by saying it loud- and he’s a little too late as you roll out the bed and run for the bathroom after picking something up from the floor, hiding away now. “hey- wait.” He asks, getting up to walk towards the bathroom floor, knocking on it just to not get an answer. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding-“ He starts, trying hard to calm you down- but it’s clearly not working as the door opens, and you slip right past him to run towards the door where your shoes are. “Hey no- stay, let’s talk-“

“Nuh-uh, nop, this is so embarrassing-“ You rant, visibly frustrated over the shoes not closing fast enough as your hands are too shaky to really tie them. So you just make a simple knot and stuff the laces into the corners, before a tattooed hand snatches your other shoe from you. “give that back!” You bark, not looking at him however as you reach for the shoe he’s holding too high for you. “stop-“

“stop, exactly. Don’t run off now, I’m sorry if I said something that made you think we were more than we are.” He explains, and you visibly deflate at that, ears down low just like your tail. “let me get dressed, and we can talk, okay?” He asks again, and you just shrug.

He sighs as he puts down the shoe and leaves to tug a shirt and pants onto himself- before he realizes his mistake too late-

Door already slamming shut, your jacket the only thing you left at his place.

Fuck.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He’s been knocking since forever it feels like- but even at his third visit today, you refuse to open the door.

You still got a week left in your apartment- but he knows from first hand experience that you got almost no furniture at all in there anymore, so this can’t be an option for you to sleep at. He doesn’t want you to be upset at him- and in hindsight, he really could’ve worded things a bit better, but he’s still new to this as much as you are. “please let me in.” He requests once more as he’s done so often today, sighing. “I missed you too, you know?” He tries this time around, and to be honest, that’s not even a lie.

Its odd how at first glance, he never thought he’d ever get along with you. But having you gone for almost an entire week, he really felt the way you’d somehow snuck into his heart- every task back to being mundane without you causing a little chaos in his daily life here and there.

“That’s a lie.” You say, door open just a crack to glare at him through.

“Its not.” He denies. “I just think we never actually talked about what we want to be- so I was surprised to just.. have you turn up out of nowhere in my bed.” He chuckles a little, and you just look down to the floor in shame.

“M’ sorry.” You apologize. “won’t happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Your gaze snaps up at him at that, confused. “I was just a bit caught off guard, and honestly worried. Did something happen at your parent’s?” He wonders, and you sigh, opening the door to let him into the almost entirely unfurnished apartment- a pile of clothes and a blanket being the last items that were probably used as a makeshift resting spot for you today laying in the corner of the main living room. You sit down there, before letting yourself fall to the side as if exhausted, before you shrug, Jungkook sitting on the floor across from you. “it was.. I don’t know.” You admit. “I love them. And I was really super happy to see them again, and spend time there..” you explain, before you pull the blanket between your fingers to have something to hold onto while you stare into nothingness. “But it was.. really a lot.. I don’t know how to explain.”

“I guess that’s normal. You know, being overwhelmed with it.” Jungkook sympathizes. “I’m exhausted too after spending a day or two with my entire family-pack. Nothing to worry about.” He explains, and you just nod, still avoiding eye contact. “I think what’s important now then, is what we are to one another. You can’t just break into my apartment and sneak into my bed without formally asking me out, you know?” He jokes, but your glare is filled with embarrassment.

“Now I don’t want to anymore.” You huff, before you turn around- and at that, Jungkook feels an odd rush underneath his skull, fueled by your subtle and underlying confession in your words.

“You love me though, don’t you?” He asks, leaning in closer as he sits near you now, a hand on your shoulder. “all you need to do is say it.” He chuckles, as you curl up more into yourself as if that would hide you.

“And then what?” You huff. “You’ll-“

“I’ll say it back.” He cuts you off. “or I’ll say it first, it’s no issue. At this point it’s pretty obvious that I’m starting to fall in love with you.” He easily spills, and you freeze before you slowly unravel, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a face full of wonder.

“You are?” You ask hesitantly, and he smiles, before he nods.

“I am.” He responds, confirms his words and you sit up at that, facing him now. “are you?” He wonders, and you nod.

“I am.” You answer, and he laughs.

“See? Nothing to be scared of. Now come on, I’m not letting you sleep here.” He says, standing up with you to pick up your stuff-

Unaware of the absolute Rollercoaster he just signed himself up for.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook did not know what he got into when basically confessing his growing feelings.

His mundane life is pretty much over at this point, with you always around and currently basically having moved in until you can figure out if this works or not. After all, you’re not used to living with someone else- and it’s clear that no matter what, you’re the opposite of an angel, still trying your tricks on him to make him dance around like you want him to.

But Jungkook isn’t this easy to control. And in a way, it’s a little fun to see how much you can get away with.

“Jesus christ, put some clothes on.!” Jungkook curses as be spots you laying on your stomach on his couch, in nothing but a simple top and underwear, tail wagging. The wolf hybrid has to turn away, distract himself with the task of turning the volume of the TV lower, while you just don’t understand what his fussing is all about, game on your little console in your hands on pause.

“Why?” You ask because of that, not sure why he’s being so overly dramatic in your opinion. It’s just your legs, maybe your butt. So?

“because- just put at least some pants on.”, he groans, and you roll your eyes, before you continue your game instead.

You’re not listening. And he’s not sure if it’s your character- or if you think his decreasing patience is funny to watch.

“Do I have to turn the wifi off to get your full attention?” jungkook asks a little irritated, and you shrug.

“Don’t care.” You respond, eyes on the little screen between your hands. “the game doesn’t need internet.”

Suddenly however, the console is taken out of your hands, as he saves your current progress, and puts it into the charging station near the TV. “Hey!” You complain, getting up now to rush towards him- and as he makes sure you can’t get to your precious game again, he notices that God fucking damn it, you’re not wearing a bra beneath this very flimsy shirt.

You’re really testing him.

“Put pants on.” He says, and you have the audacity to laugh.

“Nah.” You deny, stretching before you step away from him, walking towards the bedroom. “I’ll just take a na-“ you don’t get to say much else, as he suddenly tugs on your tail with just enough force to make it count- but nowhere near enough to hurt. “Hey!” You turn around instantly, just to be basically cornered by the wolf hybrid, who’s backing you into a wall in the living room.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth there.” He simply says, but it sounds like a threat almost-, a very specific kind of threat that makes your skin shiver. “But you tend to forget when to shut it, clearly.” He scoffs, as your back hits the wall, making you swallow your own saliva nervously.

But he can sense, smell, that this is affecting you not in the direction of fear- but something else entirely.

“You’re so lucky, you know?” He asks, somewhat- and you look at him with question. “I’m not usually patient like that.”

“What would you have done?” You ask, unable to really keep it in as you know that if you hesitate for just a second, you’ll never be able to say this out loud, ask for such things. You want them, but you’re also nervous, considering you’ve never actually gotten this far with anyone before. “Put me in timeout?” You almost challenge, tail beginning to sway a little with newfound confidence, when he just shrugs it off, and shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “Brats like you need something that.. Lasts longer.” He words out, and at that, scenes manifest inside your head that make you visibly shy.

You’re not sure if he realized it yet, but a lot of the things you do, you do on full purpose. You like this game of push and pull, you think its exciting and fun- so you hope that with words like that, he means them as such, because that would mean that he’s both aware of the little game you’re playing, and also a willing participant in it.

You don’t want him to just feel like you’re made of porcelain, possibly breaking at the slightest touch.

“Such as?” You ask, and he leans in closer at that, almost unbearably so.

“fuck around and find out, Princess.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Turns out you can be sickeningly sweet almost when you really want to- currently happily laying on his stomach after helping him cook and wash the dishes after, awfully nice today and in a good mood.

It makes him wonder. Are you up to something? Or are you simply not who he thought you were? It would be just a slight bit disappointing, if he was to be honest- considering he’d actually grown quite fond of the idea of you with your ass spanked bright red, Jungkook basically having to work for your submission. But maybe you’re just all bark and no bite- just yapping around, nothing more than that.

Even that would be fine at this point, as long as he’s got you.

It’s when the male lead kisses the female love interest in the admittedly boring drama you both watch on TV, than he notices you staring at the scene. He’s notice too that at this point in time, one might think you would’ve kissed by now- but that’s not the case, neither of you seemingly brave enough to make that step towards the other. But it’s clear from the way you look at the scene in front of you with a shy sense of longing, that you want it- he just needs to find the perfect moment for it.

After all, he doesn’t just want to be any partner for you. He wants to be the one and only.

“I’m tired.” You yawn and stretch, arms above your head before you look at him. “can I get a goodnight-kiss?” You boldly ask, and Jungkook laughs, before he moves to basically lean over you entirely, hands pressing into the cushioning of the couch below you.

And then he finally leans in to peck your lips- or at least that was his intention. You chase after his lips and even move your hands to pull him back, making him act on instinct as he pushes them back, pins them down with his fingers around your wrists. But he has to admit, either the lip balm you’re using is sweet as honey, or he’s surely found the perfect person to kiss in you-

Because he doesn’t want to stop either.

“You said you’re tired.” He hums in when you break apart for just a second, and you shake your head.

“not anymore.” You deny his claims, making him chuckle.

“Not anymore?” He repeats, teasingly escaping your advances. You shake your head, as your legs move to rest around his waist, signals sent pretty clear to him as he watches you try and seduce him. “You’re right.. You’re clearly not yet tired.” He mumbles, as he leans down to kiss you again, letting himself be swept away by the moment, as you both just enjoy each other’s presence.

“Jungkook..” you whine impatiently, hips squirming around in search of any form of friction, while he just laughs under his breath.

“What do you want?” He asks. “this is our first time, after all. I don’t know what you like- or what you can handle.” He teases- though it’s clear that there’s an underlying truth to his words. This is indeed clearly going in a very obvious direction, and you feel warm inside knowing that he actually cares this much about your experience during this.

“I don’t know..” you admit. “I just.. always do it myself, so I don’t know.” You tell him, and he nods, accepting that as his kisses move to your neck, where he makes sure to leave his marks.

Because he wants you to be his, and his alone.

“how far do you want to go?” He asks, pausing his advances for a moment to look at you.

“All the way.” You tell him, and he nods.

“You sure?” He questions, and again, you nod- this time visibly serious.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with like that than you.” You say, and he soaks those words up like a sponge, before he leans back down to kiss you- softer now, more gentle, as if he’s savoring you and your open appreciation for him in this moment.

And he does. He really does.

And you know, through the softness of his touch and the slow and gentle manner in which he undresses you, that tonight, he’s going easy on you.

Tonight, he’s just going to show you real love.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Something clicked into place last night.

As if he’s finally committed himself to you, he’s relaxed, comfortable and most of all; confident. And you’re strangely excited about this new side of him, because it’s unbelievably entertaining to play around with him now that he’s not holding himself back any longer.

Youre currently all laughing, some friend’s of Jungkook’s having spotted him at the grocery store with you, eager to get to know the girl who made him catch feelings. And you’re having a lot of fun hearing some embarrassing facts about your now boyfriend- who’s also laughing along, despite being the butt of the joke. Even when you make jokes about him too he doesn’t seem bothered-

Until a hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing down a little to make sure you know he’s got a good grip on you. And like a cat grabbed by its weak spot, you freeze, one look at him making you almost cower in public as his dark eyes gaze down at you. “yeah- but I think we’ll better head home now.” Jungkook decides to his friends, casually smiling while he says goodbye to his friends. And even when his hand leaves you, you’re strangely affected- waiting for something to happen, as he calmly brings the groceries to the car.

You must’ve gotten away this time, since he seems pretty relaxed on the way back home. Good thing you were in public.

However, once back inside your now shared four walls, things take a turn again when, instead of helping him unpack the groceries, you lounge on his sofa- TV instantly turned on as you watch, and Jungkook makes sure to put everything where it belongs by himself.

Your punishment follows late- but you know when it’s time.

The TV is wordlessly turned off, but you stop mid-breath trying to complain about it, because the smile he sends you is none of pure kindness. He looks almost like a villain ready to move on with his sinister plans, as he approaches you. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” He asks, and when you don’t reply, he clarifies further. “you love getting on my nerves.” He states, and you have the audacity to shrug.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

That was definitely your last mistake made- challenging him, well aware of how he will potentially punish you.

He’s quick to grab at your hips, no matter how fast you’d wanted to dash off. His grip is tight and secure as he carries you unto the bedroom, where he closes the door with his foot, putting you down on the big mattress. And there you sit- waiting, not sure what his silence means.

“Early bedtime, huh?” You scoff, trying to appear unimpressed.

“Its what you make of it.” He however answers. “this is your last chance to get on my good side, Princess.”

“or what?” You ask with an attitude, still not believing in hit bite at all.

Jungkook sits down at that, back against the door, eyes reflecting a little in the darkness of the bedroom. He’s a wolf, deep down, even if he’s mixed- he’s got time, and patience, and he knows it. He’s well aware that after yesterday’s endeavors, you’ve been trying to ‘seduce’ him all day long- wanting more, wanting it again, because as you’d told him last night, you ‘can’t do it the same he does’. It’s normal, as a hybrid-

And as someone like you in particular, who craves everything pleasurable in life.

You’re still sitting there, waiting, adjusting your position a bit, squirming under his watchful eyes. You’re not sure what he’s aiming at here, but it makes you a little uncomfortable-

Mostly because you can feel the way your underwear is soaking up your arousal over this entire situation.

“Go to sleep, baby.” He tells you with fake gentleness in his voice. “it’s late, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to sleep.” You respond, and he chuckles.

“I know.” He tells you.

“Jungkook..” you whine, hoping this will be enough to break him. “I’m sorry..” you admit, ears drooping low, as you look at your lap in shame.

But he’s not fooled.

“try again, princess.” He simply says. “I know you’re not sorry.”

Fuck. What else could you do to get him to crack?

Manipulating him into doing what you wanted him to has worked in the past, so it shouldn’t be this hard. And he’s already seen you naked yesterday, so you don’t have to have shame about what you do next- moving your legs to give him a bit of a teaser to your soiled underwear beneath your skirt, feet digging into the bed below as you try and get under his skin this way.

“…can you help me?” You wonder, noticing how his eyes were captured by the sight for just a second.

“I can.” He nods, getting up to walk over to you- and your tail wags, triumph yours to claim. It’s still so easy to make him dance around like a puppet on strings, because down the line, he’s just another guy who’s quickly caught up in his own lust-

His face is inches from yours, eyes piercing into yours as he still got that wolfish smirk on his lips.

“But I don’t want to.”

Wait- that’s not part of the script.

“do it yourself, puppy.” He laughs, opening the bedroom door. “You know how to-“

“No!” You call out, making him turn his head over his shoulder to look at you. “I want you!” You argue, making him laugh.

“too bad.” He denies, and at that you get up, one leg out of the bed already. “get back on the bed.” He demands, and you huff.

“so you really putting me in timeout?” You scoff, stepping out with the other leg as well.

“You want to act like a brat so I’ll treat you as such.” He explains. “get back on the bed until I’m done cooking.”

“No.” You deny, walking closer.

He says your name, low and clearly in a warning, but you don’t care.

It’s then that your world turns upside down for a second, before you’re thrown back onto the bouncing mattress. You can’t help the sound that escapes your lips at his display of strength over you, a hand still on your arm to push you down. “does pissing me off make you that horny?” He asks, almost in a demeaning tone. “gushing into your panties just because you’re getting on my nerves, huh?” He continues, and your tail still wags.

“Its funny.” You admit, giggling, when a hand slaps your inner thigh, skirt having risen up to cover basically nothing anymore. “ah-!” You call out in surprise, making him laugh.

“it is.” He agrees. “it’s funny how you think you can play me.”

The next second, he’s tugging your underwear off of you, strings of sticky arousal still trying to hold onto the soiled fabric for a good stretch before the piece of clothing is thrown somewhere. “gotta get you off to make you listen?” He asks, agitated, hand between your legs a complete contrast to the gentle way he’s helped you reach highest pleasure last night. “gotta fuck you stupid so you’re finally a good girl for once?” He questions, and you just nod, frantically, overwhelmed by the way he pushes two of his fingers in already, thumb rolling over your most sensitive spot.

“Please-“ you start, but he only laughs down at you.

“Please? That’s a new sound.” He mocks you. His ruthless acts down settle down at all however- instead, he takes his hand away from you, and wipes it on his pants. You’re left alone, watching him, unsure what’s happening. “You ready to listen?” He asks. What an asshole. He knows exactly that in your state you’d accept anything-

“Why did you stop?” You whine however, and your downfall has been sealed.

Only moments later, as you try and escape, he’s on top of you, using his entire body to cage you in, hand around your throat- though he’s gentle enough to not hurt you at all. The hold he has still arches your back, pushes your behind right into him. And considering the fact that you’re on birth control, he doesn’t need to search for any other contraceptive right now, able to just pull himself out of his cotton pants, not needing much to get himself ready.

You whine in complaint when he pushes in. He knows it’s a bluff.

“oh shut up.” He growls into the back of your neck. “You can take it.” He states, well aware that you can. And it seems like finally, you’re quiet and compliant- if only after his fingers press down on your tongue, occupying your mouth with something other than whining. “so this is what it needs to shut you up?” He mocks you. “my cock inside, and my fingers in your mouth?” He purrs against your neck, and you just whimper pathetically.

His pace is steady, but he doesn’t even need to move anymore he notices- you’re for once doing all the work for him, bouncing on his lap like you’ve done this a million times already.

Your stamina does however not match up with his, as your thighs quiver, orgasm approaching you and causing you to lose tempo. Something he catches up on- taking over as he rolls his hips into you with dancer’s precision, while you emit sounds of pleasure the second his digits leave your mouth. You fall forward once he lets go of you entirely, spent.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He however days, as he manhandles you onto your back beneath him, hands tugging on your legs to move them exactly where he wants them. “wants to be fucked stupid but can’t even keep up with me.” He teases, shaking his head as he pushes his length through your thighs, remnants of your own arousal making the movement easy and slick. Your hands reach out sleepily, fingers touching the very tip every time it appears between your legs, and you giggle, visibly out of your mind.

But he notices something else too.

You look entirely relaxed, not even a glimmer of any of your usual insecurities present. You’re just existing in the moment, enjoying this, enjoying what he offers you, and nothing else.

Your head must really just be TV static.

You open your legs again, whining once more as he watches you reach for his hips- one orgasm not enough still, or maybe you just want to please him the best you can. He’s going easy on you this time, he decides, complying with your wordless demand to get back inside you, a wish he happily grants.

You don’t hold back, only shutting up when he leans down to kiss you, needy and chaotic, tongue and bitten lips. But once his hand is between you both, pushing you over the edge alongside him, you squirm once more- his release spilling inside of you, something swelling that you didn’t feel yesterday.

It’s him. He’s locking himself inside you to make sure you don’t spill any of it.

Which isn’t all that easy, since he appears to be a but of an overachiever- some of it already escaping you the second he softens up, cunt pushing out the translucent white as he pulls out of you.

You’re a mess.

Clothes somewhat still on, skin sweaty, opening between hour legs still gaping, clenching around nothing as your body calms down.

But, to be fair-

You also, finally, shut your mouth.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You can be so gentle!” You complain as he helps you put lotion on your skin after your shower, already back to your old self not even a couple of hours after.

“I can.” He laughs.

“But something tells me that you like it rough.”

Oh-

How right he is.

[hcuyk]

OUR INFERNO | CHAPTER ONE

SYNOPSIS ✧ despite being your greatest archnemesis/rival/enemy/frenemy/whateverthefuck he was, haechan had always been by your side. that changed when your boyfriend was brought up, creating a newfound rift in your whateverthefuck relationship with haechan

PAIRING ✧ rival!haechan x fem!reader

GENRE ✧ high school au, enemies to fwb, angst, smut, fluff(?), humor(?) (these mfs bicker a lot), pining

WARNINGS ✧ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — cheating, profanity, mentions of physical fight/bruises, underaged drinking, obsessive/possessive haechan : NSFW TAGS :  outdoor/semipublic sex, dubcon recording, spit/drool/tears, oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetration, scratching/ripping, humping, minimal praise, degradation, sub!hyuck for 0.002 seconds, petnames (princess, good girl, babe/baby, slut)

WORD COUNT ✧ 19k

≡ [ OUR INFERNO EXCLUSIVE ] @flwoie — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

. . . . . . OUR INFERNO M.LIST ✩ next [ TWO ]

⋮≡ [ PERMANENT TAGLIST ] @armysantiny @nyujjan @the-kpop-simp @sunwoosberrie (lmk if you prefer to be tagged for both, or for only hyunjae/haechan!) — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

NCT DREAM MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

AUTHOR'S NOTE : haechan's version for the original our inferno is finally here! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

PART ONE: CHASING THE SPARK (THE FIRE TETRAHEDRON) — fuel, oxygen, and heat | CHAPTER ONE

“Genuine question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who the fuck does Haechan actually think he is?”

Unphased by your up-and-coming rage rant, Jaemin resumed snacking on the protein bar he had brought with him. He tossed his free arm over the camera equipment and backpacks sitting next to him on the bench, watching you stride back and forth within one of the many hallways in the recreational center. 

“Well, he is your boss.”

“No, he’s the student executive producer,” you corrected, your legs unwavering as you kept a consistent pace to release your frustrations. Jaemin shrugged and tossed one leg over the other, staying relaxed despite the hot fumes emanating from your upright and angered figure. You paused momentarily to look him in the eye. 

“Emphasis on the student,” you clarified.

“Emphasis on the executive, Y/N.”

Baffled at how he was defending your greatest archnemesis (well, more like your greatest frenemy), you ignored his rebuttal and started pacing again. Your steps slowed as you envisioned the sensations you experienced just minutes before, back when you, Jaemin, and Haechan were at the indoor pool to report for your school’s broadcasting channel. Technically, you were the one reporting and filming while Haechan was the subject of interest, and Jaemin was there for physical support. 

Chills latched onto your skin as you remembered what it felt like to have Haechan’s bare torso looming over you, his eyes peering over your shoulder to glance at your footage. While staring at the camera, his gentle, irregular breaths would continuously hit your skin. Water from the pool would trickle down his hair and into your shirt, reaching your backside. When it happened, you could barely comprehend Haechan’s ‘advice’ and instead focused on feeling every cold droplet travel through the crevasses created by your spine. You winced at the thought of that happening again, yet somehow you could still hear his irritating voice near your ear, telling you all the reasons why your B-roll of his lap swimming was ‘trash’ and ‘unusable.’

For a moment, you stood there in the hallway frozen, unsure of how to move, before realizing you were just reliving a moment from earlier and that Haechan was still in the locker room changing.

“I’m going to make a complaint,” you declared, turning back towards Jaemin for his encouragement. Alternatively, you were met with the sight of your best friend completely failing to conceal his judgment and disapproval towards your suggestion.

“Against Haechan? You gotta be kidding, right?”

“Yes,” you answered confidently. “Wait, I mean no, I’m not kidding, but yes, against Haechan.”

Jaemin eyed you skeptically, trying to decipher why you felt threatened enough to report someone like Haechan. You may not have spent all your previous years in high school with an affinity for Haechan, but it wasn’t like you hated him either—not in the way you truly loathed others. If that were the case, you wouldn’t spend nearly every day with him, bickering until the sun chose to set.

“Sure, maybe my B-roll was trash, I can attest to that, but that does not give his bitchass the right to, not only shit on how ‘awful’ I was doing, but also yank the camera out of my hands and delete all the footage I got because they weren’t ‘perfect enough.’ What kind of psycho is that?” You glanced over at Jaemin, trying once again to get him to back you up, but the most he gave was a slight nod. Everything you were spurting was half-mindedly being decoded because he had ended up placing more significance on inhaling protein. Regardless, you continued.

“And you would think, hey! As the student executive producer of a high school broadcasting team, he would understand that no! I indeed do not record half-naked people swimming in a pool, whether it be for a career or a hobby. He should also at least have the decency to not swim seven hundred miles per minute while I’m recording. Of course I’m not going to catch up, especially when he barely told me how he wanted things to be recorded? Isn’t he fucking insane for that? Not to mention all the goddamn splashing because of how fucking long his limbs are—”

“You’re explaining this like I didn’t witness the whole exchange,” Jaemin grumbled.

“And you would think he knows, right? That Mr. Executive-slash-Captain-of-the-Swim-Team should either be more considerate when, A, he’s kicking water in my direction when he’s swimming or, B, station me away from the edge of the pool? Just a thought, but fuck me, I guess.”

“Well yeah, but the—”

“Also! Not to mention the camera has the fucking ability to zoom in, so why was there even a need for me to stand by the pool anyway?” You scoffed at the absurdity, almost tempted to cackle like a villain because of it. “The least he could do was tell me how to record it or find a way to adjust and compromise without occasionally soaking me with water on purpose, which I know damn well he was—”

“That’s just how-”

“We have a tripod, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed. By now, Jaemin had given up on providing you with his input. He opted to rest against the wall, finishing up whatever he had left of the protein bar, and occasionally would roll his eyes.

“But even then, who the fuck wants to see him swim anyway? We’ll probably only need like…what? A minute of the footage for the B-roll? So why the hell is he treating it like it’s about to be nominated by the goddamn Oscars for Best Picture? He just loves to nitpick and control me like a fucking puppet—”

“Keep talking and you’ll potentially strain your throat,” a new voice interrupted.

You jerked around to find Haechan, the culprit of your rant, exiting the locker room with a small duffle bag that contained both his swim gear and his school clothes from earlier in the day. His brown hair was only halfway dry, some strands still stuck to his forehead as he approached where you were pacing.

You halted in your path and stared him down. Haechan immediately caught onto the mood you were in, and instead of being shocked or hurt, he grinned.

“You.” 

Your attempt at threatening him with one word made Haechan laugh.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Oh here we go again,” Jaemin mumbled, tossing the wrapper of the protein bar to the side. He pulled out his phone and went on TikTok, deciding it was more worthy of his attention than listening to you two banter—something he had been experiencing for well over five years.

As a mutual friend of yours and Haechan’s since middle school, Jaemin understood the frenemy dynamic better than either of you. Eventually, over the long years he had known you both, he learned to leave you two be. 

“What about me, though? Are you going to try and tattletale on me?” Haechan feigned sympathy as he gave you an exaggerated pout, tilting his head like a puppy’s. “C’mon. I’m just doing my job.”

“Sorry, but I don’t remember ‘being a dick’ being listed under the requirements for your oh-so-important position of power.” You huffed at him and crossed your arms, choosing to face elsewhere as you rooted the soles of your feet to the ground.

Haechan furrowed his brows, his eyes never leaving you, as he addressed the third party within the shared space.

“Jaemin, was I being a dick, or is Y/N exaggerating?”

Jaemin glanced up at his phone and scrunched his nose at Haechan in annoyance.

“Don’t even try to bring me into whatever…this mess is.”

“No, tell him,” you demanded, now looking at him. Your glare was enough to burn Jaemin into ashes, but it was nothing compared to Haechan’s gaze piercing into your back. Knowing that he never looked away made you shiver, hating how fixated he seemed to be—and seemingly without reason too.

“Listen, I wasn’t being a dick. I was treating you the same way I treat everyone else. I’d honestly argue that you’re just narcissistic and think everything is about you when—”

“Oh wow, thank you for admitting that you’re a dick to everyone else!” You tossed your hands up for dramatic appeal as you spun back around to look at him. He scoffed, but his demeanor was quickly shadowed by a smirk that appeared on his lips, testing you with the arch of his brow.

“Oh really? Do you see anyone else complaining?”

“I’m complaining,” Jaemin muttered.

“People don’t complain because they’re scared of you, Sherlock,” you retorted. At this point, Haechan had already caught onto your bullshit of making evidence up, and it was why this exchange ended up lasting for as long as it did. Nevertheless, his ego continued to build the more you spoke.

“You’re not scared of me?”

And you keep falling for the bait.

“Why should I? You’re nothing.” You approached him and pressed a finger into his chest, taunting him as you stared straight into his eyes.

Suddenly a competition seemed to have materialized because now you both were locking eyes, too stubborn to look away. 

“One day you’ll wake up and realize your position doesn’t mean shit. You take it too seriously and make everyone’s job your job when this should be a learning experience for the rest of us.”

“And who exactly is ‘us,’ babe?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that–”

“And it’s also starting to sound like jealousy to me.” Haechan’s eyes finally shifted, but instead of looking away from you like you initially wanted him to, you trailed his line of sight down to your lips. He eyed them shamelessly—technically making you win the unspoken eye contact competition, but at what cost? “I won’t believe you until I receive firm evidence and testimonies from the other students in the club, then maybe I’ll consider your concerns. Deal?”

What you despised most was how well Haechan knew and provoked you to get under your skin. He was a raging flame, making your blood boil from both irritation and excitement. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but after nearly six years of banter with Haechan, you knew damn well you enjoyed every second of it. It was like a nonstop competition, and you were always on the edge of winning.

Maybe it was also because you were so used to him constantly being above you. He was the president of the student council, the swim team’s captain, and specifically the one who snatched the executive position away from you in the broadcasting team, yet somehow you were still able to compete at his level of arrogance and egotism. 

Even though you may never be able to top him in the foreseeable future, you at least knew how to match his fury—his fire, with your own.

“You’re pathetic.” You took a few steps back to gain some distance while his eyes flickered back up to yours. He bit his lip playfully, his smile only growing even wider.

“Woah, Y/N. Exposing my degradation kink so soon?”

“I-...you- w-what?!” you sputtered, your jaw falling slack as Jaemin’s head snapped up, staring at the two of you in disgust.

“Get a room—!”

“I’m going to make sure you get degraded from your position, you freak!”

“Not exactly how that word works, princess, but I’m glad you’re at least passionate.” His cooing made you want to slap the living shit out of him, your eyes protruding from their sockets are you glared. 

“Are you fucking bricked up or something right now—?”

“Hey guys,” a woman’s voice called out. Your heads turned to look at the end of the hallway, catching one of the recreational center’s workers waving in your general direction. She pressed her lips together and smiled, attempting to be as professional and understanding as possible. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is it okay if you guys turn it down a notch?”

You and Haechan both nodded and whispered apologies, feeling like kids who just got scolded for shoving paintbrushes down the drain. Fortunately, the worker’s smile radiated genuine warmth and consideration, providing you some sort of reassurance that you guys weren’t too much of a disturbance (even though you guys totally were).

“You two are the most childish fuckers I know,” Jaemin deadpanned, finally shoving his phone away as he switched between looking at you and the man by your side. His eyebrows bunched up.

“And apparently horny too.”

“I would move across the country if it meant I never had to see him again,” you grumbled, striding back to the pile of equipment to pick up your backpack and the bag with all your reporting necessities (boring script, stationary, and a couple of notebooks shared with all the broadcasting students to collect notes and inspiration in). 

“Hello? I’m still here.”

“Look at that. He already misses me.”

“I’m going to hurl,” Jaemin unnecessarily announced, and Haechan’s face soured.

“Ew.”

“Exactly. That’s how you two make me feel whenever you guys are together.” Jaemin got up on his feet and grabbed the wrapper to shove into one of his pockets (no littering, kids) before outstretching his limbs dramatically. 

“I swear I developed back pain from always listening to you guys bicker.”

“Or, hot take,” Haechan interjected, “maybe it’s because you’re always sitting with your back arching forward like it belongs in the Arches National Park–”

“Yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.” Jaemin waved him off with his hand and rolled his eyes. “I came here to help carry stuff, not listen to your bullshit.”

He picked up the bag that contained the camera and passed it to Haechan. He offered to hold one more thing, but with only his backpack and the tripod left, Jaemin didn’t see much need for his friend’s assistance. 

Jaemin then faced you, his face stern and rid of emotion.

“You too, Y/N,” he stated seriously. “None of this ‘he said this,’ ‘he said that,’ ‘please fuck me’ bullshit from you either.”

You gaped at him, arms wrapped tightly around the crew’s bag.

“Now why the hell do you think—”

“Zip it.”

Without giving you much of an opportunity to continue, Jaemin sped off in front of you, ready to leave the building. You couldn’t even look at Haechan as heat rushed to your cheeks, struggling to trail after Jaemin’s speedy steps.

Despite carrying heavier items, Haechan caught up to you with ease. You wanted nothing more than for Haechan’s feet to either slow down or speed up tremendously, but of course he purposely chose to walk by your side, attached to you by the hip.

“He sees it,” Haechan sing-songed. “Everyone sees it.”

“Sees what?” you snorted, oblivious to what he was indicating.

“That you want me,” he replied nonchalantly.

The moment you two stepped outside the doors of the center, you stopped to face him, trying to confirm what exactly he was implying.

“You can’t be serious.”

Haechan, who also stopped with your steps, shrugged.

“You’re the one in denial.”

Realizing that he was serious, you felt every muscle in your body tense up.

“Haechan,” you stated firmly. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

Instead of receiving something witty from Haechan like normal, his relaxed facial features suddenly scrambled into one that expressed remote shock. His lips were slightly parted, eyes searching yours for any hint that indicated you were lying or messing around with him, but you were serious.

The aggressive playfulness from earlier had evaporated faster than boiling water, and you watched as he became stilled. Your heart started pounding, anxiety creeping up within you due to not being able to read Haechan like you normally do.

“Since when?” he asked. His voice was quiet, his tone firmer, and by now, Jaemin was already by his car, too far from the two of you to understand what was going on. Hell, even you could barely understand what was happening.

“Earth to Haechan?” you joked, nervously laughing in an attempt to eliminate the newfound tension looming in the atmosphere. “It’s always been Yeonjun, remember?”

For a moment, Haechan could feel his mouth drying up. All his thoughts were held captive in his throat, and his lips remained parted as if they weren’t meant to collide at all. He stared at you like you had just teleported in front of him.

“Y/N,” he stated calmly, “he cheated on you.”

Your initial response was to get defensive, claiming that you already knew that because hell, it was your relationship, but then your brain acknowledged the true elephant in the conversation.

“How-...how the hell do you know about that?”

“I- You know word just-…That doesn’t matter. What matters is why in the world—”

“It was a mistake, okay?”

“A mistake?” As Haechan’s brows raised, so did his tone. “You know, people—decent people, don’t make mistakes like that.” 

Seeing how Haechan was gritting his teeth, how his eyes were locked on yours, built up a foreign frustration within you. Something about the way Haechan was behaving felt like he was trying to control you. 

All the rage from before had now returned, yet this time, there was no more leniency from you—not when Haechan was being more condescending than he had ever been.

“You know nothing, Haechan, so frankly, I really don’t care about what you think about my relationship with my boy-”

“You’re still with him??”

“Look,” you snapped. “Just because you have the luxury of crushing my hopes and dreams on a daily basis, it does not give you the right to dictate what’s wrong or right about my love life and my decisions. Understood?”

And just like how you always are, Haechan refused to shut up.

“How is it dictating when it’s common sense to dump a shitty person?” He dropped the bags onto the ground, and not once did he look away from you. “He’s never treated you well either, and you know that—”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you repeated. You could feel the three key elements of creating a fire stir up within you. You had the fuel, the oxygen, and the heat, and Haechan was the chemical chain reaction that would set it off. “How dense can you fucking be to not back down?”

“He cheated on you,” he reasserted, and there was a rage in his eyes that you had never once encountered. “He’s done so many shitty things, and he hasn’t changed–”

“Again, none of your fucking business–”

“And I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“I am not going to repeat myself-”

“Can’t you just listen to what I-”

“Drop it.” You were seconds away from yelling at him, ready to unleash all your anger because never once has someone threatened your love life—Yeonjun, the man you considered your soulmate. Your flame had officially engulfed his, and all Haechan could do was stare at you in disbelief and disappointment.

Turning to look away, you gazed up into the sky and scoffed, not understanding why tears had begun to pool up in your eyes. At the end of the day, Haechan meant nothing to you—you didn’t even consider him a friend.

After moments of experiencing what it was like to be suffocated by a tension so unbearable, you eventually found a way to ground yourself. 

“I can’t blame him, you know,” you whispered, using the back of your hand to wipe away your tears. “We were angry. He just–...he needed an outlet, and at that time, that outlet happened to not be me, okay?”

Haechan stared at you, his mouth desperate to say something, anything, to make you see what he sees—a relationship that isn’t meant to be. That you didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Maybe you were no more than an acquaintance to him, but he knew you have always deserved better. 

“He isn’t someone worth fighting for.”

“And that’s none of your business,” you scowled.

“It isn’t right—”

“Stay in your fucking lane, Hyuck.”

Haechan clamped his mouth shut, and the sight of you completely breaking down tore him apart. Possibly it was all the years you spent together growing up, constantly arguing, yet he knew he was always one to look out for you.

You sucked in a cheek, gnawing at it as your chest urged for you to forgive him, to apologize for lashing out without much notice, but in the end, you prioritized your pride over him.

Not only was Haechan’s persistence a stab to your heart, but you suspected that Jaemin was the one who told him. By spilling your secrets, it was as if Jaemin saw the knife that impaled you and yanked it out of your chest, causing you to bleed to your death.

“I’m done with this conversation,” you muttered, dropping the bag in your arms to the ground by his feet. Your plans had changed to you walking home alone, wanting nothing to do with the other two boys for the next hour or so.

When you turned around to walk away, you knew Haechan was going to try and say something. You knew him best whenever he was at his worst, so you spun around to face him for the last time that day to cut him off.

“Never fucking cross that line with me again, got it?”

And with that, you left. 

//

Jaemin apologized to you the morning after.

He normally drove you to school, and you debated getting into his car when he showed up. Thankfully you chose to do otherwise because the second you stepped inside, Jaemin was apologizing profusely. He talked about how anxious he was all night when Haechan told him what happened, and he wouldn’t have known what to do if you didn’t forgive him. Obviously you did, and the rest of the car ride was spent with him explaining his side of the story.

According to Jaemin, he only told Haechan about how you got cheated on because it seemed like Haechan already knew. As Jaemin recalled the whole scene, you two assessed the signs, such as how Haechan didn’t provide any sort of reaction when Jaemin dropped the news. In fact, it had seemed like Haechan had brought it up to Jaemin instead.

Regardless, it became the last of your worries because all that mattered was that you were back to being on good terms with your best friend.

But avoiding Haechan felt like lighting a match in the rain. 

It was your agonizing reality for the next two months, and although you could argue that you had gotten closer to your boyfriend during the supposed ‘Haechan Drought,’ you were still plagued with him being everywhere around you.

He was in all your classes, and you never truly processed the extent of how involved Haechan had always been throughout high school with you. You weren’t on the swim team, but you were stuck with him during meetings for both the broadcasting team and student council. 

Yet it all felt so different.

Unless he was called on, Haechan would talk much less unprovoked and would never look at you during meetings. When he would address the entire team, he would glance at you for a split second before looking elsewhere, no longer watching you like a hawk.

You had also gotten quieter because without Haechan to banter with, you recognized that you barely had friends in any of those classes either. 

There was no longer a fight between your flames, and you two kept as much distance as possible. You were thankful that there hadn’t been an instance that interrupted that, such as being forced to record more B-roll with him, and you could only hope that the rest of your senior year would remain the same. 

Then you would never have to see him in college.

Now you were back to being the mediocre student that faded into the background. People knew your name at best, but none have ever tried to become your friend aside from Jaemin. No matter how involved you tried to get, the closest you were to anyone was a classmate. 

Haechan had always overshadowed you too, and for the first time in years, you were detached from his fumes—yet somehow, some way, the smoke from his fire would remain in your lungs, continuing to suffocate you even more than it had before. It didn’t give you that breath of fresh air of new friends or a better life; instead, it helped you realize that you didn’t matter. It was a miracle that you even scored Yeonjun as your boyfriend.

But then that begged the question: why did Haechan bother spending his time ridiculing you?

From the very beginning, you had always meant something to him, and you couldn’t pinpoint how or why. When there was no competition in academics, he treated it as if there was. Every time you ranted, he would listen, whether it be about him or something else. Even when you talked about how your chicken from the cafeteria was burnt, he would give you his own before calling you stupid for not noticing until you sat down.

He never shrugged you off like you were nothing or shut you down because your emotions were invalid. He entertained you each time with ease, and most importantly, he knew when to respect your boundaries. Haechan was probably the most mindful person you knew and could often tell when you were distressed or needed another form of reaction from him.

He knew when to stop.

Yet when it came to the one instance involving Yeonjun, he crossed the line multiple times. Why?

“Haechan isn’t here today.”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t show up for a single class.”

Jaemin watched you play with your food with a fork, rolling the cold, barely spherical peas around and into the stale rice.

“That’s not like him,” he replied.

“Yeah.”

“I wonder why.”

“I wonder too.” 

After the driest possible conversation in existence, you sighed and dropped your fork into your tray.

“I need to stop forgetting to pack myself lunch. This shit makes me lose my appetite, I swear. We should call the police and tell them the food they’re serving is illegal and a disgrace to this country.” 

“Keep it away before I lose my appetite too.” 

You didn’t react nor respond to what Jaemin said, letting the conversation rot as you pouted at your food. The cafeteria was unusually louder today, making it easier to space out into thought.

Jaemin took out his sandwich with a wide grin and started eating, grateful he never had to deal with what the school was feeding thanks to his mom, but eventually his eyes shifted over to you. You were unmoving with your gaze locked onto an empty spot on the table, so after moments of debating between asking you what’s wrong and ignoring you to devour his lunch, he opted to set his sandwich aside and stared straight at you.

“Why are you thinking about him?”

That was enough to garner your attention, your head snapping up to stare at your best friend like he was the craziest person you knew for mentioning Haechan, much less suggesting that your mind was wrapped around him.

“What?”

“Haechan. With his perfect attendance, a day without him should be a blessing, yet you brought up how he didn’t show up today and then moped harder than anyone I’ve ever seen mope. You should be over the moon, dancing on the tables and stealing people’s food, not-...” Jaemin waved a finger at you, “whatever this is. You seem out of it.”

“Well it’s not because of Haechan, I’ll tell you that,” you snorted. Your eyes fell back down to your tray, and the more you looked at it, the more nauseous you got. You scrunched your nose. “If anything, it’s probably because of this shit food.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes before tearing his sandwich into halves. You perked at the sight and ogled the half Jaemin taunted you with. You were about to thank him and take it into your possession before Jaemin jerked back his arm, making you whine.

“Throw away your food, then I’ll give you it.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. As Jaemin returned to his delicious, most scrumptious, packed lunch you had ever seen, you picked up your tray and walked it to the nearest trash can. As you dropped the whole thing inside, you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You whipped around to check to see who it was and smiled at the sight of Nagyung waving at you. You wouldn’t consider her a good friend, but you knew her well enough since she was the vice president of the student council.

She ran over to you with a stack of paper in her arms, relieved to have caught you. 

“Y/N, hi! I’m so glad I found you. I was scared I wouldn’t because of how packed it is.”

She flashed you her usual glowing smile, and you noticed that she was a bit more giddy than usual, making you question why she was choosing to talk to you in the first place. All your conversations normally took place before, during, and after student council meetings, so this was slightly out of character.

“What’s up?” you asked. As you looked at her, you noticed how her outfit was slightly more put together than it normally was. She had on a cute top that suited her chest perfectly and a skirt that you had never seen her wear. 

“Your outfit’s really cute today.”

“Really?!” Her bright demeanor then faded into concern. “Wait, is it too noticeable or out of the blue? Is it bad?”

“No, no. Not at all!” you reassured. “It’s just the right amount of perfect.”

“Great! God, that means the world coming from you. It’s because!...” She stopped to glance around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, before taking a step closer to whisper. “It’s because I was finally asked out on a date by my crush!”

She could barely contain her excitement, holding back a squeal with her bottom lip latched between her teeth. Her sunshine-like energy made you grin.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re making progress.” Your eyebrows pinched as you tried to recall the last time Nagyung had updated you about her crush. “You’ve been pining after him for so long—whoever ‘him’ is, anyway.”

The question of who Nagyung liked had always gone unanswered. She never told anyone, not even the ones who knew her best, but she loved gushing about her mystery crush to everyone she knew. All people really knew, you included, was how down bad she was.

A part of you wondered if it was someone you knew—someone pretty like Hyunjin or well-known like…Haechan.

“Oh, I wish I could tell you, and maybe I will if things go really well and we become official!” She squealed and hopped in her spot, unable to resist giving you a half-hug with her free arm. “This is so exciting, Y/N!”

“I’m really happy for you.” Your smile was genuine until you thought about why she was looking for you, starting to doubt that she called you over just so she could tell you about her date. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes, swear. But! That aside, I also have something for you.”

You knew it.

Your brows raised, and when you didn’t catch on, she gestured to the papers in her arms with guilt.

“I know this is kind of a dick move, and I’m really really sorry, but I promised to put up fliers for prom today. My date is right after my last class.” Her frown had deepened, and for a split second, you found yourself sympathizing with her because who wanted to let down such a cheerful personality, especially when this was life-changing for her?

“So you want me to do it?”

“Exactly! Please, that would be great. It shouldn’t take too long, too.”

You thought about how you would have to give up an evening of playing on your switch or extra time to study for an upcoming exam, but you knew it was your duty as secretary to help out whenever needed.

Not to mention that it would also make you a decent friend not to hold Nagyung back from her soon-to-be love life despite her poor date planning. If you were in her shoes, you would have wanted her to do the same for you too.

“Sure,” you accepted. “Why not?”

“You’re the best, seriously!” She handed you the fliers as she began to fill you in on the extra details.

“I already told Mr. Barajas that I wasn’t feeling well and that you were going to do it, so he said it all worked out and to not worry about it,” she rambled, happy to give the extra weight (both literally and metaphorically) to you. “I just printed these out, so everything should be perfect to go. Oh, and don’t worry about any extras! Just set them on Barajas’s desk when you’re finished. Haechan will also be in 142 with tape ready for you.”

The mention of the forbidden name nearly made every cell in your body halt. 

“What?”

Nagyung tilted her head at you, confused, before finally realizing.

“Oh crap, I forgot! I’m so sorry, I really did forget you guys weren’t on good terms. I hope it’s okay that he’s helping you out. I mean, he’s supposed to, but it was meant for him and me to do it together, not you two, so…God, I’m really sorry Y/N.”

Before you could even react to the newfound information, she continued.

“I really have to go now. Thank you again! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” And with her rosy pink cheeks and a stunning shade of red on her lips, she basically skipped away and waved goodbye to you with a smile, so you reciprocated it with an awkward one of your own. 

When she turned her back, your smile immediately dropped and you sighed heavily.

“Have fun on your date,” you mumbled, your eyes falling to fliers in your arms. As you skimmed the one on top, you noticed it was to promote going to prom while also including a big QR code to vote for who should be your school’s prom king and queen. You expected it since it was the last meeting’s topic of discussion, but what you weren’t aware of was who were listed as nominees.

There were eight names listed under ‘Prom Court,’ and while you expected Haechan’s, Nagyung’s, and your boyfriend’s names on it, your jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of your own. 

//

With every passing class period, your anxiety would kick up a notch.

The dread of talking to the face you had been avoiding for two months engulfed you, and it caused you to develop the urge to ditch your current class to go hunt for Jisung, the student council’s historian. You wanted nothing more than to dump the stack of fliers into his arms, and knowing Jisung, he wouldn’t ask any questions. Hell, you were certain that if you asked him nicely, he would do it for you because of how naturally sweet and endearing he was.

But the guilt of ditching your secretary duties kept picking at your skin, and besides, all you had to do was treat Haechan like a colleague. That should be easy, right?

As you suffered through the last few minutes of class and your teacher’s incessant ramblings about the upcoming exam, your thoughts drifted over to what would happen the moment you stepped into room 142.

Haechan hadn’t shown up to a single class all day, yet he was expected to set up fliers after school. As your thoughts snowballed, you arrived at the baseless conclusion that maybe Nagyung wasn’t aware that Haechan was absent today, therefore someone else (like Jisung) would take over. 

Suddenly, your back had straightened with feigned interest in your teacher’s last few words. Something about Jisung being there instead of Haechan had excited you; it felt like you were free and that the universe was listening to your prayers. The gamble of seeing whether it would be Haechan or Jisung (or literally anyone else) had your right leg bouncing, eyes on the clock, and when the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, backpack over your shoulders and fliers in your arms, before dashing out of the classroom.

You sped down the hallway to 142, Mrs. Zhang’s room for Chemistry, bug-eyed, before having your delusions crushed at the sight of Haechan’s stupidly large height leaning against one of the counters. Your feet stood glued to the ground by the doorway, your eyes locked onto him. 

Covered from head to toe in sweats, Haechan was immersed in whatever was on his phone, scrolling through something as his brown waves peeked out from inside his hood. Without any hint of him acknowledging your presence, your shattered hopes slowly began to rebuild.

Maybe if you were quiet enough, you could sneak out with the tape and do everything on your own, avoiding him at all. Actually, scratch that. You didn’t even need the tape. All you had to do was go to another teacher’s room, steal their tape for half an hour, and then return it with ease.

The plan was effortless, and you mentally smacked your forehead for not thinking of it earlier. Right as you were about to execute it, your backpack slammed against the doorframe as you turned on your heels. 

“Nice try.”

You groaned out of embarrassment (and slight pain) and forced yourself to turn around. Haechan’s phone was now face down on the counter, and his arms were crossed over his abdomen. His face remained stoic as his eyes met yours, wielding a tension you didn’t recognize.

Now that you could properly look at him, you noticed a few details that you hadn’t before, such as the small tear on his lower lip and the bandaid on his cheekbone. If you looked long enough, you could catch light patches of purple across his skin, and the sight hindered all your thoughts, your brain too occupied with piecing together how he ended up like this. 

“What happened?” you blurted, your gaze shooting up from his lips to his eyes.

Haechan staggered at your suddenty, but he managed to keep himself stilled, his brows pinching. 

“What do you mean?”

Even if Haechan didn’t mean to, his question became an invitation for your unfiltered thoughts to spill out of your mouth.

“You didn’t show up for any of our classes today,” you began, “but now you’re here? For some stupid fliers? You’re barely dressed properly like you normally are, your hair isn’t straightened, you look pale, Hyuck, and what’s up with the bruises or the bandaid on your cheek–”

“Are you seriously psychoanalyzing me?” he asked with a scoff. There was no humor in his tone. Instead, it looked as if he was irritated, perhaps even more than you were. 

Haechan barely met your eyes, and his arms closed himself off from you. 

“What–?”

“You’re evaluating me like I’m some sort of lab project, Y/N.”

“No, no I’m not,” you rejected. “I’m just saying things are a little off.” You kept your eyes firm on his, even as he pushed himself off the counter with his phone and made his way over to you. “And you know, you really can’t blame me for being somewhat worried when one, you don’t show up, and two, you look like a whole mess—”

“Just hand over the fliers—” he interrupted, gritting his teeth as he outstretched his arm in your direction. You dodged him by turning your body 180 degrees and stood your ground.

“What happened?” you repeated, this time more firmly.

Haechan looked at you, a blank expression on his face, before turning back around to grab the roll of tape left on the teacher’s desk. When he returned, he shoved it into your arms while simultaneously stealing half the stack. You protested with an exclaimed ‘Hey!’ yet he didn’t bat an eye and skimmed over the contents of the flier on top.

Bothered by his lack of response, you frowned and made sure to block the doorway, refusing to let him leave until you received answers.

“Why are you acting like this? Pretending that I’m not even—”

“I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs,” he muttered.

“Did you get into a fight? Why weren’t you here today? Why are you here now—”

“You’d think you’d know,” he finally answered, pushing past you like you weighed none less than a feather.

Your brain had fully malfunctioned at that point, unable to decipher what he meant as Haechan walked off to the nearest staircase. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, you thought about what he was implying yet came to no resolution. Did he assume that you were caught up in your school’s latest gossip? Or that you were the main admin for his biggest fan page on Instagram?

The idea made you snort, and you scowled bitterly at his childish attitude. It wasn’t like you were a complete stranger intruding on his personal life—hell, you felt like you deserved an explanation because of how you were forced to do this with him. 

As you stormed off past the remaining lingering students to the nearest bulletin board, you questioned how you were going to do this on your own. 

You had put up fliers countless times in the past few years yet never alone. Luckily, you had a general idea of where the fliers should go when it came to the school’s hallways, but as you approached your first destination, you struggled with ripping off pieces of tape while holding the stack at the same time. It would’ve been easier with a partner by your side, one who either did the tape ripping or placing of the fliers, but you weren’t desperate enough to fall into the role of a helpless princess in need of her pretty (useless) prince. 

After some trial and error, you found a method that consisted of setting the stack on the ground occasionally so you could rip off pieces of tape. Then you would slap said pieces of tape onto your wrist, having them readily available as you put up a few fliers at a time.

Although slightly time-consuming, it was working well and kept you at a steady pace until you heard crashing footsteps behind you from afar. Without paying any mind to it, you bit back your curiosity in order to focus on the wall in front of you, but then you made the mistake of taking a step back, bumping into the person who was sprinting. 

You lost your balance and fell forward before catching yourself shortly after. However, the fliers had already flown out of your arms, scattering across and down the long hallway.

Ready to curse out the offender for running down the hallway, you were surprised when you saw that it was Nagyung behind you, pouring out apologies while a loopy grin was smacked onto her face.

You steadied your anger and told her it was okay, getting down onto your knees to collect all the fliers. Her ‘sorry’s could only go so far with her smeared lipstick, a dazed gaze, and her hair holding the mold to someone else’s (presumably her crush’s) hands in them, but you still excused her, knowing that she was over the moon right now.

“It’s okay, Nagyung, I promise.” You forced out a chuckle as you crawled to scavenge for the ones that flew a few feet away.

“I really didn’t mean to,” she pouted, but it was shortly followed up with bubbly giggles. “God, Y/N, can you believe this? Oh, it’s going so well! I think I love him, I do.”

“Good for you,” you grumbled, hoping that she didn’t hear it as you continued to move down the hallway, hating how far the fliers had escaped from you. You also hated how she just stood there without intent on helping you at all. 

“I have to really go now. Got volleyball practice soon, but I think I’m seeing him tomorrow too!” She waved you goodbye.

And just like that, she continued running off. 

You stared at how you were only able to collect half the mess, hating how Nagyung had somehow managed to delay you even further from being in the comfort of your bed. You were also salty at how her date was taking place at the school, wishing she could’ve dragged him around while she taped stuff up before getting dick-downed of some sort.

Deciding that she and her business weren’t worth your time, you continued to pick everything up as quickly as you could, wanting nothing more than to go home.

When you finally finished collecting every last flier, you were prepared to get back into the groove of things before feeling your phone vibrate in the side pocket of your backpack. Wondering if it was something important, you took it out and beamed at the idea of it being a new message from Yeonjun.

Dating him felt like falling in love with him all over again whenever he texted. Your heart would pound in your chest when you thought about him and explode whenever he gave you his attention and time. You were addicted to him, especially knowing that he was yours after liking him since middle school.

So to say you were disappointed was far worse than an understatement. It was from a number you hadn’t saved yet always recognized and undoubtedly remembered by heart.

Of course it was Haechan.

You had Haechan’s phone number due to previous class projects and group chats, but you had never once saved it because you thought he was undeserving of being a contact in your phone. Nonetheless, with how the years have passed and how much his number infiltrates every group chat you were in, it was only fair that your brain had unintentionally memorized all ten digits.

The message he sent consisted of him saying that he was done with the fliers, and you rolled your eyes. Even after the way he treated you earlier, he still chose to let you know and brag about how fast he was. 

You shoved your phone away vigorously, ready to return to your slapping-fliers-on-walls duty, before perking at the sound of footsteps behind you once more.

Automatically assuming it was Nagyung or another student staying after for a club or sport, you were stunned when you heard his voice. 

“You’re not even halfway yet?”

In no fucking universe are you turning around; not for him.

“Go gloat somewhere else,” you snapped. The next flier you taped up was nearly slammed onto the wall, but Haechan was left unphased by your sudden outburst. He stood next to you and remained quiet, even when you left to place the next flier a few feet away on the opposite wall.

When he didn’t follow, you sighed out of relief, yet somehow you couldn’t help but peek at him, eyeing his hands that were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was staring straight at the lopsided flier you had put up, and when you decided you had enough of peering at him, he was back by your side.

 “What are you doing?” you grumbled. He was the one who pushed you away, yet now here he was, glued to your side like how he was two months ago. 

“You’re taking too long.”

“I had a mishap,” you explained, “but that’s none of your concern.” The lines on your forehead bunched up, and you waved him off, bending down to place the stack on the ground. Figuring it wasn’t weird at all, you continued your method of ripping off pieces of tape and slapping it onto your wrist.

And Haechan was totally judging.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just go home.”

Despite being on the ground and sitting on your heels, you could physically feel the heat on the back of your head due to his eyes burning a hole into your skull, and for a split second, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I can do it myself,” you explained. 

“What are you even doing?” 

“Can you just go?” You picked up the stack once again as you rose to your feet, doing your best to avoid whatever look was on Haechan’s face. He was probably stifling a laugh or keeping his expression smug, but when you did cave and peek, his face was still solemn, his eyes on your wrist with concern.

“You’re struggling.”

“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Obvious,” you retorted.

“Let me do it.”

Taken aback, you whipped your head over to his direction.

“You’re kidding.”

“You don’t even want to be here,” he reasoned through gritted teeth. “Just go, and you can thank me later.”

“Thank you?!” Appalled at his audacity, you couldn’t help but laugh out of disbelief. “Seriously, Haechan? You want me to thank you for stealing my job? Again? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Because you can’t take any criticism ever, or in this case, any form of help, so just let me do it.”

Haechan was eerily calm about the whole ordeal, his energy far from matching yours.

“I do take help,” you refuted. “I just don’t take yours, and neither do I need it, too.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.” And within a blink of an eye, he had managed to snatch the stack of fliers from you. 

“Hey!” you yelled, feeling as if it was deja vu from earlier (you really needed to step up your defense), and reached out to take them back, but he was quick to turn his body, shielding them from you.

“Give me the tape and go,” he urged, emotionless. The Haechan in front of you now was someone you truly didn’t recognize because the Haechan you knew would have made fun of you and held the fliers above your head, teasing you for being so weak.

Yet he stood still, creating a barrier between you and the duty that was forced upon you. You didn’t want to be here anyway, yet you were so insistent on making sure Haechan wasn’t stealing your work again. You weren’t incapable, and you hated how he always managed to be faster.

Even now, he was miles away from being playful with you, and yet he still had a way to shove it in your face.

“Haechan, I swear—”

“Give me the tape, and you can run off to your little boyfriend waiting for you by the entrance.” 

Your lips parted at his words, eyes wide as you worked to comprehend his words. You questioned how he knew about Yeonjun’s whereabouts, how he knew that Yeonjun was waiting and that you didn’t, but knowing that he was serious, you reluctantly gave up and dropped the roll of tape on the ground, forcing him to pick it up. 

You were sick of constantly arguing with him, and even if he was lying about Yeonjun, at least you would be away from Haechan. There was no point in fighting for your dignity anymore, not when Haechan’s narcissism was insufferable.

By walking away with heavy and quick strides, you hoped he felt humiliated by how poorly he was treating you—how he had always treated you like this.

As much as you wanted it to be true, you hoped Haechan was lying just so you had more evidence against his self-absorbed and shitty personality, but alas, you found Yeonjun standing precisely where Haechan said he was.

Regardless, all stress and frustrations had lifted from your being, and you called out to your boyfriend with a smile that would make your cheeks ache in minutes. 

“Junnie!” You waved your hands with a small bounce in your steps as you rushed over to him.

Your boyfriend’s head shot up, surprised to see you. His utter shock quickly switches to one of sheer happiness, tucking his device away before opening his arms for you.

“Hey, baby!”

You tossed yourself into his embrace, hugging him tight after pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” With your face in his neck, your voice came out muffled, and it made Yeonjun laugh.

“Had to stay after to discuss my grades with a teacher, then I decided to stay back a bit for you.” He cooed and kissed the top of your head, holding you incredibly close. When you pulled back, his hands had moved from behind your backpack to your hips instead, holding them as you stared up at him.

“You were waiting for me?” you asked, eyes wide with stars in them.

“Of course I was, baby.” 

You were radiating, feeling happier than ever. The last time you saw Yeonjun was a week ago, and with your clashing schedules, you two very rarely get the opportunity to make plans. Your hands rested atop his shoulders, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you smiled.

But then it fell.

Something felt off.

//

If someone were to inquire Haechan about who his heart belonged to, your name would be his answer—whether he intended to say it or not. 

Haechan had always been considered the school’s favorite. His intelligence may not be up to par with others, but his authority was what made him a prominent member of your high school. Some blame it on his looks, but most were aware enough to know that wasn’t the case.

Haechan knew how to think on his feet, and his problem-solving skills outwitted everyone within his grade level. Reaching tranquillity had never been an issue for him, allowing him to be levelheaded while making decisions. He emitted an aura that made classmates truly listen to him and the ideas he shared, and overall, it made him a great contender to lead every group and organization he was in. 

Additionally, Haechan’s heart was what won over most people. His lack of vulnerability seemed to be his only flaw, but it was an obstacle he could overlook when it came to empathizing with others. By actively being involved in the community through volunteering and holding fundraisers, everyone could recognize Haechan’s devotion to hope for humanity. 

All these traits were what led Haechan up onto the pedestal and the public eye, a household name for all families in the district. Titles and awards naturally gravitated towards him throughout the years, resulting in him winning the vote as president of your school’s student council and enough scholarships to provide him a full ride at most universities.

It was safe to say that competition against Lee Haechan was sparse, and you were no different. 

Your grades would teeter around his standard, hence how you two collectively ended up in the same classes, but aside from that, you had nothing else that could compare to what he was capable of.

Except for one thing; your fury.

There was an inferno inside you at all times, and instead of your body shielding off your heart with steel, people around you would come to find out that your heart was the reason for that large blaze of fire, possessing a passion unlike any other. 

Haechan had never once seen a peer with as much fight as you. It was a trait only you encapsulated, one that you weren’t afraid to express. You stood up for yourself and your beliefs, and it was easy to pick fights with him when he had been troubling you from the very moment you two were assigned to sit next to each other in seventh-grade algebra. 

Haechan yearned for you ever since, his only want being your attention. You gave him the drive to succeed in high school and thrive in his senior year, and he was positive that he wouldn’t be doing this well without a reason to show off in front of you. He wanted your praise, your acknowledgment, but he loved the chase the most. 

Unfortunately, that was the exact reason he ended up here.

The chase was what made him fall for every part of you, wanting nothing more than your lips on his and the ability to have you by his side at all times, but it was also what landed you with your current boyfriend.

It was like his life was a video game with God giving him the hardest difficulty setting by making sure you were obsessed with someone undeserving of all that he wanted. There wasn’t even a chance of you two possibly being friends in your eyes. Meanwhile, Haechan would argue that you two had more chemistry than any other couple in your class, but that hope was crushed, shredded, and stomped on when he found out you still devoted your love to Yeonjun.

Regardless, it didn’t change who you were as a person. Your heart was still just as large and beautiful, and your drive to succeed hadn’t lessened. The bickering never faltered, and it wasn’t like Haechan was opposed whenever you expressed disgust at the thought of him being turned on because of you (and that was because he found the idea of you thinking about him hot—yes, his expectations were that low). 

So it was why after two months of almost zero to no contact, you treating him as if those months didn’t exist created the largest dilemma he had ever faced. He spent the next week thinking about your intentions and why you seemed to care so much, specifically right after when Haechan had willed himself to believe that he meant jackshit to you. You effortlessly toyed with his heart, leaving him in everlasting misery, while you seemed to do completely fine.

What was a typical and ideal lifestyle for you was a nightmare and tormenting hellhole for Haechan. He didn’t just crave the warmth and comfort from your undying flames.

He wanted to burn.

Insanity engulfed him on the days spent without you, leaving him to wonder why you had to make things extensively worse by pointing out his absence or how he had put less effort into his hair. Why did it seem like the concern you expressed was genuine? Why pretend that you cared for him as much as he cared for you?

He was going insane—so insane that he drove to a college party with three other friends in his sedan on a Wednesday night. 

It was being held by a fraternity he and his friends were far more than familiar with thanks to Jaehyun, an upperclassman he met in his sophomore year and remained friends with since then. The beginning of the senior year marked the origin of parties and hook-ups in weak sporadic attempts to get over you. 

At this rate, Haechan could argue that he was more experienced than half of the current college freshmen class. Getting girls in bed was the easiest part; the hardest part was forgetting about you. From what was a method created to move on from you became one that prepared him for when you wanted sex with him. 

But with your constant longing for Yeonjun, Haechan made sure that this party would be different.

Although accustomed to having sex with various women, Haechan had never been one to drink. This was a fact about him that raised eyebrows, specifically Jaehyun’s when he first tried urging Haechan with a drink, but tonight he vowed to change that. He was normally their designated driver, but when Haechan informed Mark of his plan, the elder was more than delighted to remain sober so Haechan could get a taste of alcohol.

“Hey, man! It’s about time!” Jaehyun exclaimed the instant he found out about Haechan’s willingness to drink, pulling a fresh bottle out of the cooler specifically for his friend.

“That’s what I told him!” Mark projected his voice over the music, giving Haechan a supportive pat on the back.

Haechan rolled his eyes at his friends’ remarks and thanked Jaehyun for the beer, hanging around by the counter as the three conversed and caught up. The two laughed at the way Haechan’s face scrunched up at the taste, Mark shoving him lightly with the claim that Haechan was being overdramatic. 

With his earlier mindless decision of tossing on a mesh long-sleeve shirt over his black tank top, Haechan had attracted another partygoer by his side momentarily after his first sip. She wrapped her arms around one of his and inserted herself into the conversation with hopes of getting Haechan in bed by the end of the night, and crazily enough, he considered it for a moment before feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Normally it would be something he’d ignore, but it remained persistent, signifying that he was receiving a call. He didn’t know who would be calling at this hour—well, aside from Sunwoo and his usual complaints about Haechan partying as a high schooler on a school night. 

After setting the glass down on the counter to grab his phone, any urgency to intoxicate himself as quickly as possible vanished the very second he saw your name glowing on his screen. With an awkward retraction of his arm and a forced cough, Haechan excused himself and answered the call.

“Hello?”

With music pounding inside his ear canals, it was expected that he couldn’t hear anything you were saying. He navigated through various crowds to reach the entrance of the house, his heart replicating the booming vibrations from the loudspeakers as he prayed that you wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Okay, I…I should be free now,” he stammered after stepping outside. The sudden stillness of Mother Nature was a drastic change from the party scene, coercing him to focus on his racing heartbeat and the anxiety accumulating in his tightening chest. He was breathing heavily, both from pushing through people in a rush and also because of you. 

You never failed to render him weak and helpless, leaving him like a puppy longing for their owner’s guidance.

There was a silence, but he could hear your gentle breaths hitting your phone.

“I need a ride.”

Haechan blinked, his body tensing up, as the many thoughts in his brain scrambled to make meaning of what you meant. However, it didn’t matter because you hung up shortly after, leaving him alone to revel in your words.

Your bluntness and suddenty made Haechan malfunction, his thoughts leading him to question if he had even heard you correctly. Rarely did you ever reach out to him, and what could you need him for? Especially after lashing out at him and ignoring him for two months? Of course, there was that one day a week ago when you two were forced to talk together, the day he was given a one-day suspension, but you two returned to treating each other like strangers like it was natural.

He stared at his phone in hopes of receiving more information, that you’d perhaps call again to reconfirm or say you had the wrong number. He felt like he was dreaming—that the person he had wanted for so long needed him for once, but he couldn’t help but also believe that this may be the beginning of another nightmare. 

But it was you, and Haechan was willing to risk it.

After checking his call logs to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he rushed back into the fraternity house, thankful he didn’t proceed with drinking any more than he did. 

He found everyone exactly where he had left them (the girl included) and announced his departure. The girl made sure Haechan knew how disappointed she was, but that was his last concern as he grabbed the beer bottle and handed it to Mark, giving him a pat on the back.

“Drink up and find an Uber.”

“No fucking way you’re leaving us this soon, man.” Jaehyun shook his head in disapproval, his forearms resting against the countertop.

“Another time, I promise, yeah?” Haechan started walking away, waving to them as his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

“He’s lying,” Mark snorted, taking a swig before bidding Haechan a bitter goodbye. “You owe me!"

Haechan ran out of the house, his legs making quick and long strides as he ran to his parked car down the block. His newfound adrenaline made him think about what he was sacrificing to be with you. Was leaving the party and betraying his friends worth spending even a second with you? What if you were asking him to drive you and your boyfriend somewhere? Could his heart even deal with being used like that?

But as much as Haechan hated it, he knew he was making the right choice. The self-respect he had for himself was buried six feet deep beneath the surface of the earth when it came to you. 

God, he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

For a split second, Haechan truly debated what he was doing after getting into his car. He was already driving, but he didn’t know where to go. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to send him a text with your location, and it was a place he was familiar with. 

It was a park that he often frequented as a kid since it resided by his old neighborhood, and he was thankful he knew exactly where to go because he knew he would’ve definitely crashed the car while pulling up your location on his GPS. Haechan was doubtful it was the alcohol in his system making his fingers shake and his mind uneasy. He blamed you for his hysteria, one that had developed over years of endless longing. 

Luckily the drive wasn’t long thanks to the roads being mainly void of other vehicles (and maybe he did speed a few times, but he considered it justified). Before pulling into the parking lot, he spotted a lone figure curled up on a nearby bench. A small weight had been lifted off of him, relieved it was just you, and he parked aimlessly while his eyes rested on you.

You seemed unphased by his added presence, your arms unmoving as they stayed wrapped around your legs. The bench you were sitting in was facing away from the parking lot, but with his headlights illuminating the view in front of you, you certainly had to know he was there. 

In an ideal world, Haechan would leave his car, join you by your side, and, if he was lucky, he’d pull you into his arms and hold you close against his chest. He wanted to be there for you in whatever way he could, but he ended up being a deer in headlights, too afraid to make the wrong move and lose you again.

He sat there for a minute, watching you, and as soon as he received the confidence to reach for the handle of his door, you were up on your feet. His fingers paused midair as he traced your movements, his arm eventually falling to his side as you approach his car. 

Despite how slow his mind was working, Haechan knew to unlock the car right as you opened it (he would’ve died out of embarrassment if he had forgotten), and neither of you greeted the other.

Without any explanation from you, Haechan refrained from staring at you like he normally would, but your outfit made it incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much, just an oversized long-sleeved shirt that reached your thighs, but it was far from the usual clothes he’d seen you wear, like jeans and a nice-fitting blouse. For a moment, he believed you had no pants on, but then he knocked some sense into himself, realizing that you were probably wearing shorts that were hidden.

While Haechan attempted to keep his composure and respect your boundaries, you were eyeing him shamelessly, once again analyzing every detail about him. Beads of sweat pooled up on the back of his neck, and his hair was straightened yet fuzzy. As your eyes trailed downwards, you noticed how the mesh hugged his biceps, catching every crease that defined his muscles. He was quiet, his index finger resting against his lips. 

Where did he even come from?

And why was he so quick to listen?

You held back your tongue from dumping out your thoughts, knowing your questions would end up unanswered like before. Your body instinctively rested against the divot between the car door and your seat, keeping your distance from Haechan. He was meant to be a stranger, perhaps someone you loathed, yet there was an odd comfort that encased you from him just sharing the same air as you.

You cleared your throat, turning your head to look away when he flinched and snapped his gaze towards you.

“Drive.”

Your demand was no louder than a whisper, but Haechan picked it up effortlessly and was already backing out.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Haechan raised a brow at your answer, and you buried yourself further into his seat, directing your gaze out the door. “Just-...anywhere, Hyuck.”

The nickname had his throat tightening and his chest leaping, nodding in your direction as he drove on autopilot. With no destination in mind, he strolled through familiar roads, his fingers tapping against the wheel. 

You stayed silent, creating a tension that was unbearably thick, yet none of you felt the need to leave; neither of you wanted to leave the other, even if it meant having to deal with the looming elephant in the room (or in this case, Haechan’s car).

After spotting the recreational center from afar and its empty parking lot, he instinctively pulled in. There wasn’t a proper explanation for why he decided it’d make a great destination, especially when it was the place that created a rift in your relationship with him, but it felt right.

It was empty, open, and serene—a perfect place to stay as the moon shined.

Haechan stepped out of the car after parking in the middle of it, and when you didn’t follow, he moved to your side and opened the door. He was hesitant but took the risk of offering his hand to you, a warm, nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to know he was there to listen, to be there for you, because, Lord, he would hand you the world if he could.

“I’m not in the mood for walking,” you mumbled, but Haechan shook his head.

“We’re not going to walk, I promise.”

Your eyes flickered up to his briefly, skeptical of what he had planned, but ultimately caved. You ignored his hand, and he pulled it back with regret. When you stood there, your eyes on the sky, he closed the door behind you and guided you to the hood of his car.

Without a second thought, he sat on top of it and gestured for you to do the same.

“I sit here all the time. Helps me think.” He leaned back against his windshield, his hands holding the back of his head as he kept his eyes on the sky. When you didn’t move, he started to feel stupid, wondering if you two were better off in the car, but then you joined him. 

You copied his position, staring upwards as your hands rested over your abdomen. 

Haechan opted to keep to himself, deciding that he didn’t want to make this worse for the two of you. Instead, he fixated his thoughts on the stars in the sky.

There were only a few, but it was a rare sight due to the constant air pollution in your city, so he considered it a miracle. You, on the other hand, were spacing out in thought, and Haechan could tell through his occasional peeks. Without much control, his eyes started tracing down your arms. They then landed on where the hem of your shirt rested, now looking at your bare thighs.

Feeling as if he just reverted back to being the shyest virgin in the country, he gulped and immediately looked elsewhere, trying to get you off his mind despite you being right next to him. His racing heart was all that he could hear, and now he wondered if you could hear it too—if you knew how much you affected him.

And your voice broke the silence.

“How long have you known?”

Okay, maybe his brain did fall out of his skull because Haechan had no idea what you were talking about. He turned his head and caught how you stared up at the sky. Your eyes were glossy, holding the reflections of the whole galaxy within them. They sparkled, and for a beat, Haechan had forgotten your question, too infatuated with your beauty. 

His silence resulted in you turning your head, gaze meeting his, and that was when he noticed the tears.

“About Yeonjun and Nagyung.”

Your light, your flames, his burning desire; all were gone in a flash.

Your voice was delicate, and Haechan knew that with one move, he could break you.

Directing his gaze heavenward, Haechan sighed and brought his arms down to rest over his chest. Somehow he was able to feel all the pain you were experiencing, his heart twisting while his stomach churned and sloshed around in his body. He thought about how to respond as he chewed on the inside of his lip, questioning if he should answer at all to avoid hurting you.

But you asked, and as always, Haechan delivered.

“I don’t think I ever really knew until last week,” he explained, “but I could always tell.” Suddenly, the fight from a week ago had resurrected, and Haechan was forced to relive it all.

The hallways were empty when Haechan left the broadcasting room, a backpack strap slung over his shoulder while the other dangled behind him. He was in the middle of scrolling through his emails when he picked up on the sound of Yeonjun’s voice around the corner. 

His footsteps halted, and Haechan caught Yeonjun’s fatal words.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Nagyung’s squeals followed after, and Haechan stood motionless.

At first, Haechan had no thoughts circulating in his brain, but after hearing their lips collide, he started coming up with solutions, such as interrupting or taking a video to send to you. Unfortunately, before he could act on either of them, he heard footsteps dashing off, practically skipping, as the two bidded one another goodbye. 

Haechan couldn’t pinpoint the reasoning behind his upcoming actions, but he knew how to describe how he felt. 

Anger was the first and only emotion to surge up within him, his fingers instinctively balling up into fists. His muscles had tightened while a forest fire ran rampant through his veins, causing his blood to boil. 

Then with quick strides, Haechan shoved his phone away and made a sharp turn around the corner, tossing his backpack on the ground after spotting Yeonjun against the lockers. The latter had a dazed look on his face, his lips curled into a smirk as he typed away on his phone, but that was changed once he looked up at the sound of Haechan’s backpack crashing against the ground in front of him.

There wasn’t a second in between Yeonjun’s face of surprise and Haechan’s arm being raised, and before Yeonjun could react, Haechan’s fist had slammed into his jaw. 

It was a blur from there, but Haechan knew he had won even after authorities dragged him off Yeonjun’s body. He had received a few jabs in return, but it was nothing compared to the black eye Haechan gave him.

The fact that Yeonjun managed to cover it up with makeup the day after was a miracle, and no one in the school knew about the fight since it happened after school. Haechan wanted it to stay that way, but a selfish, cruel part of him wished that everyone knew how sick your boyfriend was.

Well, now he was unsure if he was still your boyfriend. 

Haechan turned his head back towards you, his cheek meeting the cold metal of his car.

You pursed your lips at his response and nodded slowly. If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have believed him. There was no universe where you’d choose to listen to Haechan over Yeonjun, but after a week of investigating and getting your head out of your ass, you found out on your own terms, and all the pieces made sense.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Haechan’s voice jerked you out of your thoughts, and as you adjusted to look back at him, you were surprised to still find him staring at you.

“I’m not a violent person, Y/N,” he whispered, an enduring hope lingering in his eyes. He wanted you to believe him, and for once, you did; you truly understood the man you hated most.

“I know, Hyuck.”

Haechan eased at your words, and the two of you fell back into a more comfortable yet aching silence. His fingers drummed against his abdomen, and after a while, he got sick of looking at the same four stars, so he closed his eyes, focusing on enjoying the light breeze instead. His heart was still racing, but it was less alarming. Regardless, he hated knowing that he potentially contributed to how much you were hurting right now.

Maybe if he had done something to prevent it earlier, whether it be telling you as soon as he found out or keeping completely out of your business so you could live in bliss, or, if he wasn’t so scared, he could’ve asked you to be his far before Yeonjun had. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, but Haechan would never know since he never tried, and now he was going to beat himself over it because now you’re devastated over losing your boyfriend and it was potentially his faul—

You laughed.

Haechan snapped his head towards you, his brows raised at your sudden change in mood—but it wasn’t the type of laugh he expected. Your laugh was one filled with pain, and he watched you shake your head, trying to refuse the tears that were rapidly welling up in your eyes once more. You sniffed and wiped the tears away with the back of your hand, choosing to look in the opposite direction because the last thing you wanted was for Haechan to see you vulnerable.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “This entire thing is stupid. I’m so fucking dumb.”

His lips parted to interject, to tell you that you were, in fact, ‘not dumb,’ but he clamped his mouth shut, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t help. From what he’d learned in the past, you liked it least when he tried telling you otherwise, no matter the situation. 

“I should’ve known. I did know. The whole world knew. Even you knew, but it makes me think, was Nagyung just flocking around, flaunting to everyone that she had a crush on my boyfriend and managed to win him over? I just—I…I don’t know-...” You paused to catch your breath, beginning to choke on your tears as your chest shook, “I don’t know what I did wrong, you know?”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pain to engulf you. You knew fully well that your punishment was to deal with the pain, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it—that you deserved none of this. Why was this a penalty for being in love?

It was humiliating having everyone witness the reality you shielded from yourself, choosing hope and love over the truth. 

“I just never felt more stupid in my life, and I feel even more stupid knowing that I still love him.”

Haechan sucked in his lips, gnawing on them as he bit back all his feelings, from his brain shredding to his heart weeping.

“I love him so much that I would let him do it to me all over again because I keep thinking he’d be better. I know he can be better, so why-...It’s just- Why do I do this to myself?”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, each one leaving behind a trail for others to fall. They started pouring out of you rapidly, soon sobbing at the heart-wrenching pain of being betrayed by everyone in your life, Haechan included, because why, out of everyone, was he here for you when he should be the last person who cared?

You always wanted Haechan to be the antagonist of your life story, to have him as your biggest enemy and threat, so why was everyone else but him hurting you? Why was the villain of your fantasy taking the role of your knight in shining armor?

And yet, as much as it pained Haechan to process all your emotions, his mind wasn’t running correctly; he had you alone for the first time in months. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in his arms and whisper words of comfort in your ears, knowing you deserved it more than anyone, but he also wanted to shake you awake and slap you out of your misery, praying that you’d forget about Yeonjun; that right now, you being vulnerable was his chance to swoop in, to set whatever you wanted him to into flames, as long as if it meant you’d end up okay. 

You sat up because if you lied down any longer, you would’ve started drowning in your own tears. Your sleeves were soaked, and he sat up alongside you, figuring that he should do something about it.

Haechan got back onto his feet and stood in front of you. He barely knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him from replacing your sleeves with his cold, clammy hands over your cheeks. There wasn’t a time that Haechan could recall where he had been this gentle with someone, and when you didn’t push him away, he tilted your head up to look at him.

Even with tears running down your cheeks, you looked angelic as ever. 

Each droplet mirrored a star from the sky, and your eyes sparkled as they stayed locked on his.

“Take me,” you whispered, and Haechan’s whole world stopped. 

“...What?” Haechan had only intended to wipe your tears away with the pads of his hands, perhaps whisper something along the lines of him being here for you for the night (and the rest of his life, let’s be honest), yet your first words were—no, he had to have been hallucinating.

Your hands trembled as they reached for his wrist, and although you were severely broken, the grip your fingers created was firm.

“Please.”

Like a moth to a flame, Haechan admired how pretty you looked, your lips plump and eyes wide, and he wanted nothing more than to take you into his backseat and treat you the way he’d always wanted to, especially after hearing your pleas, but he knew better. You both knew better. 

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked, feeling like you had just inhaled all his oxygen and left him breathless. 

You released his wrist and opted to hold onto his sleeve, tugging on it as you tried to get him to understand you.

“I want it to hurt, Donghyuck.”

Your tears were gone, and there was a hint of dominance in your tone that would’ve had him dropped to his knees in front of you. You were also one of the very few who resorted to calling him Hyuck, and now his actual name. He favored Haechan, but after hearing ‘Donghyuck’ from your lips, his preference had completely made a turnaround. 

But Haechan worked to collect his thoughts, fully aware that this was wrong and he’d have to be the bigger person here. As much as he hated himself for giving up the perfect opportunity to have the girl of his dreams, he couldn’t ignore the large concern over your current mental state.

“You’re not thinking straight, Y/N,” he reasoned softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, and for a second, Haechan swore he felt the alcohol kicking in—or perhaps it was you instead. The thought of being able to have you right now, to touch you and press his hands over your skin, to have you as his for just this night, was so intoxicating that he was seconds away from foaming at the mouth.

“I don’t need to think straight. I don’t want to think at all.”

Everything felt hotter and tighter, but he kept his composure, though with his eyes dropping to your begging lips and then your delicate fingers, he knew he was beginning to lose whatever was left of his sanity. 

But he also knew you were using him; you had to be. There was no other explanation. It was only minutes ago when you professed how you continued to feel about Yeonjun—that your heart still belonged to him, and Haechan was allowed nowhere near it. He was your backup, your second option, yet that happened to be better than nothing, right?

Especially when he could have you right here, right now. 

“You’re using me.”

Your expression didn’t falter.

“Then say no. Make us go back into your car and drive me home.” Your hand dropped from holding onto his sleeve but that was so you could wrap your arms around his neck, slowly bringing yourself closer to him. His cheeks were flushed as his mind flooded with possibilities of what could happen. Never had you ever wanted him, and he’d been dreaming of a moment like this for years. Your tear-stained cheeks, your pouty red lips—he wanted all of you.

“But you won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes landed on his lips, now craving him as much as he craved you. You needed a release, an outlet, to justify Yeonjun being better than Haechan. Haechan was worse in every way possible, and you wanted him to prove that to you. “You’d do anything I’d say, wouldn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Little did you know Haechan was crumbling inside, completely melting as his fingers grew weak at the idea of your lips on his. His hands, although wary, traveled to your waist, feeling your curves before trailing his hands down to your hips to grip them.

“You love me, don’t you?”

His heart stuttered, all words caught up in his throat, but he knew there was no defending himself—not when he was practically drooling at every move you made; he was hyperaware of the hand playing with the hair on his nape, the way your lips nearly hovered over his, and how your tears glistened under the moonlight.

His entire existence was confirmation of your words, and you knew it.

“You’d do anything for me, Hyuck. What’s stopping you now?”

There was a stillness as you two stared at one another. He swallowed and pulled slightly back.

He knew better.

“You don’t want me.” He was brokenhearted, a part of him understanding that you’d never be his, yet he wanted you in so many ways, wishing to have your mewls fill his ears and the smell of sex staining his clothes. The bulge in his pants was forming and pressing up against the tight confinement, making him groan. 

He dropped his head downwards, his forehead leaning to rest against yours, as he closed his eyes and did his best to regulate his breathing—repeating in his head and out loud, again.

He knew better.

“You’re using me.”

You both knew better.

Yet with your lips ghosting his and your eyes half-hooded, you were prepared to give into the dark side.

“And I say take advantage of it.”

Haechan dived and pressed his lips onto yours, hunger driving his every movement. There was no stopping when he felt your lips curling up into a grin, his hands shifting to wrap around your torso to drag you closer. His heart burst at how perfectly his lips molded with yours, and it seemed as if there was fire shooting up into the sky and exploding—they weren’t fireworks, and the explosion was far bigger and more dangerous. It lit the entirety of the sky, the moon and stars included, into flames, a desire unlike any other.

Your left hand pressed firm against the back of his neck while the other traveled through his hair. Meanwhile, his hands had snuck beneath your shirt and felt for your lower back. Heavy breaths left the two of you as desperation crept through your veins, dictating your every movement. 

The cold touch from his hands ignited your nervous system, every sense activated and overstimulated by Haechan as you released a breathy moan into his mouth.

You didn’t want him, but fuck, you needed him.

When you would pull back, his lips would chase yours, and you two fell into an endless cycle. He couldn’t even fathom how you were pulling away for air when you were his oxygen. Maybe you weren’t oxygen itself, but the fumes you emitted had already replaced his need for air, deluding him into believing that you were what he needed to stay alive.

You were suffocating, toxic, and destructive, and he wanted more. 

After retracting from the kiss for the nth time, you turned your head to hold Haechan back from continuing. You both were panting, your cunt soaking, and he stared into your eyes like a puppy awaiting their next direction.

“Good boy,” you praised, and he laughed lowly and sheepishly, dropping his head as he processed what happened and the idea of it being potentially over. 

“You’re lethal,” he breathed out.

“And you’re pitiful,” you spat. There was a playful grin on your lips, but those words ignited something within Haechan. He raised his head and cocked a brow at you, questioning your genuinity. 

Just minutes ago you were crying over a guy that treated you terribly, and yet here you thought you had the authority to call him weak.

Perhaps he was; he was falling deeper into your pitless trap, enticed with every movement of yours, but he knew for a fact you weren’t any better than him.

You both were sick in the head for falling for people that treated the other like shit, yet your drive, your fuel, to win over the hearts of the people you loved was so strong, and it made you two unstoppable. 

Haechan would punch Yeonjun all over again if he could. 

Without a second thought, Haechan ducked his head down and ruthlessly attached his lips to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. He kissed your skin fervently, his fingers teasing the rim of your shorts, and your hands shifted to hold onto his shoulders for support. You found yourself tossing your head back, providing him more room to do as he pleased, that if Yeonjun were to see you with marks on your neck, then maybe he’d want you back. 

“Bold of you to call me pitiful,” he grumbled, sucking onto your neck until a blot of purple began to form.

“But it’s true, no?”

“You’re just as bad, Y/N.” He licked a stripe up your neck and over the mark, and the sensation made you cringe, disgust itching at your skin due to being covered in his saliva, but you wanted more of it. You wanted Haechan to treat you like you were nothing, to treat you worse than Yeonjun ever had, so you could direct your blame over to Haechan instead of your unknowing boyfriend.

You turned your head and slotted your lips with his again, already addicted to how perfect they were for you. Haechan knew the exact way to kiss you, to keep you on your toes, as your slick pooled up in your underwear at the mere thought of Haechan touching you.

The kiss was eager, a fight for control, and when Haechan didn’t surrender, you raised your knee, forcing your thigh to brush up against his crotch.

He gasped at the sensation and pulled away, bangs hanging over his eyes as he looked down at the sight. You teased him by keeping your touches gentle, but you made sure to keep your leg moving. Nothing intrigued you more than seeing Haechan beg or rut against your thigh, further proof of how pathetic he was for you. You gained a sense of ego knowing that he could have any girl in the world, that he has had every girl, and yet he would always come back to you. Now that you had him, it would be harder for him to return to a life without you under him, moaning his name.

You wanted to be his downfall. 

Your nails latched onto the mesh, taking note of how easily it would be to rip the material, before pressing your thigh firmly up against his dick, making him jerk.

“You’re-...oh my god, Y/N,” he gasped, breathless. His eyes meet your devious ones, how you were basically Satan himself, and somehow, someway, he wouldn’t ask for anything different. “You’re playing a losing…a losing- game.”

“What more do I have left to lose?” There was some truth in your words as vulnerability struck you. Your leg then lowered as you regained a slight sense of reality, realizing that you were forcing Haechan into being your selfish source of relief. You hated Haechan, sure, but you knew this was the last thing he deserved—to use him when he’d been nothing but accommodating to you.

And your sick and twisted plan was that after this encounter, you’d leave him to rot.

Haechan didn’t deserve that at all. 

But Haechan was already too far gone, too intoxicated, to even consider the repercussions of how he’d end up after this. The loss of contact with his crotch was what had him picking you up from his car, the tips of his fingers digging into your thighs, as he led you to the backseat. 

Your eyes widened, your senses fully back, but you made him like this, and you were going to pay for it. Although scared for about what’s to come, the anticipation had you drooling, your lips pressing fierce kisses onto his skin while he opened the door with you in his arms.

He laid you down gently and crawled over you, keeping you trapped between his arms.

“This is what you wanted, right? For me to tear you apart until you can run back to Yeonjun and justify how poorly he treats you?” 

Your brows bunched up at his words, your legs getting antsy being under him. There was no answering him, not when Haechan already knew how you were going to respond.

He brought one of his hands into your shorts and made the aggravating decision to slide his fingers over your underwear, depriving you of contact with his fingers.

Yet even with your underwear being a divider, he found your clit with ease and immediately started rubbing circles into the bud, making you buck your hips with a whine. The friction of the cloth was something you were unfamiliar with, and lord did it mess with you. 

“You want me to treat you how he sees you? Worthless and undeserving of respect?” He flicked your clit and kissed your jaw. “If that’s what you want, that’s exactly what my princess is going to get.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, using your hands to push onto his shoulders and force him down. The drive to ride his tongue was strong, and if he kept teasing you, you would have lost it.

“I know you inside and out, Y/N. I know you better than him, and this is how you treat me.” He sucked in a cheek but ultimately decided to comply with what you wanted. He pulled off your shorts yet left your underwear on, and his brows raised. He wasn’t sure how his fingers had missed the texture of lace, but what you were wearing was certainly lingerie.

You looked down to see why he stopped, and when you realized why he froze, heat rose to your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel pretty,” you whispered, shutting your eyes after turning your head. It was embarrassing, now that you thought about it, but Haechan’s heart soared, and he wanted nothing more than for you to know how ethereal you looked.

But he shoved the feeling away, allowing his frustrations to get the better half of him. 

When he pulled off your underwear, he cooed at how your essence oozed onto the material and raised the undergarment into the air, waiting for you to look.

“Did I do this?”

His mocking tone kept you from looking, but your curiosity got the best of you. You were met with the sight of a large wet, dark patch on your underwear, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with wide eyes. If you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, or if there ever had been a time when you craved someone this badly. 

He tossed it to the side and his hands massaged your thighs, keeping them spread open so he got a proper view of your core on display for him. The sight truly stunned him, reminding him that this was you he fantasized about and replicated with other girls—no one else.

“Do you normally take this long?” you rasped, tossing your head back against the seat, and Haechan rolled his eyes.

“I do you a favor, and this is how you treat me.”

“A favor is a stretch—”

Haechan plunged two fingers into your mouth, having them press firmly down against your tongue. He latched onto your jaw and pulled your head forward and up towards him, having your eyes meet his.

“Remind me, Y/N, who was begging for this?”

He dropped your head back down against the seat before you could even respond and used whatever saliva accumulated in your mouth as temporary lube, figuring that your slick would help him with stretching you out. You grunted at the impact, feeling helpless, as Haechan finally inserted his fingers inside of you. 

Haechan’s fingers were enough to have your eyes rolling, but it was the ring that he wore that stimulated you the most. You weren’t aware that he was even wearing one, yet the cold band against your raging wet heat made you whimper and desperately grasp for his hair.

“Donghyuck, please,” you begged. 

He chuckled and kept his movements slow, forcing you to fuck yourself onto his fingers weakly. When you did, he was in awe at how stunning you looked, how you seemed to be in your own world, and how you were enjoying him. By curling his fingers, a moan was pulled from your throat, making your eyes open as you looked at him. You continued to pool around his fingers, your voice weakly begging for so much more than his fingers and the cold air that brushed against your skin. 

Never had you felt more vulnerable, but Haechan never once made you feel like you were doing something wrong, making you cling desperately to him. You forced his face down into your crotch and jerked at the feeling of his nose brushing up against your clit.

“Shameless, aren’t you?” he commented, laughing lowly, but you were too out of it to care. 

“Shut the-...F-fuck, oh my god.”

Your whines had gotten more incessant the more useless he became, his fingers now completely stilled inside of you as he watched you roll your hips with a cheeky grin. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible, knowing fully well that he could last all night. 

When he took out his fingers, you were yanked out of your bliss and nearly begged for him to put them back in, but before you could get a word out, he had replaced his digits with his tongue. Your slick was dripping onto his lips, and as he dragged his wet muscle up and down your folds, he made sure to collect a small puddle of you onto his tongue to eventually swallow, wanting to savor you. 

“Oh-...Oh my god, Hyuck—” Your orgasm was approaching, unsure of how it was here so soon, but you recognized the signs from the coil in your chest tightening to losing every sensation to the man beneath you. You rocked your hips continuously onto his tongue, and his thumb attached to your clit, making you see stars with how rapid his movements were. 

He pulled his face back and forced his fingers back into you, and the final curl was what made you reach your peak, your hips in the air as you cried out his name. 

As you came down from your high, you caught a glance of the way Haechan was looking at you; to him, you were otherworldly, and it was a sight he’d never forget. He wondered if Yeonjun ever saw you like this, if he ever made you feel this way, and suddenly his admiration had soured and contoured to something of darkness, rid of any empathy as he now looked at you with some form of disgust. 

“All this for me, and you still have the fucking audacity to choose him.” 

The mention of Yeonjun had your eyes wide open, tears reappearing at the mention and while being in your most vulnerable state. Your legs shook from the aftermath, feeling too weak to continue, yet Haechan seemed to have other plans.

Instead of shoving his fingers back into either of your mouths, he hovered over you and made sure you saw the way he dragged his fingers around your abdomen, drawing aimlessly over your skin with your essence before dragging a hand up to your breasts, massaging one of them as his other hand rested by your waist.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you buy this for him and never got to use it? That’s why you’re wearing it now with me? Am I your sloppy seconds?”

There was a slight growl under his tone, and while you shook your head subconsciously, he worked to remove your shirt, wanting a better look at your bra, before being met with a necklace you had been hiding; one with Yeonjun’s name.

And Haechan took no time breaking it from your neck.

Your jaw dropped, and you snapped out of your daze by sitting straight up, yet as you were about to yell at him for breaking your necklace, he shoved three fingers back into your pussy, shutting you up by having you moan at the intrusion. 

“It looked cheap, anyway,” he muttered, forcing his mouth against yours momentarily to nip on your lower lip, tugging on it so your focus remained on him. 

“That was—he’s mine,” you forced out, gasping at every thrust he made with his fingers, your sweet spot being abused as your hands latched onto his shoulders. You made sure your nails dug into his skin, wanting it to hurt, before pulling onto the mesh, wishing for it to tear. 

“He’s not yours, princess. Tell me, how can you say that when his dick has been up other girls?” With his free hand, he grabbed your face and made sure you were staring straight at him before shoving it to the side. 

“You need to fucking wake up and realize that you can dream all you want about how he’d react if he saw you hopping on my dick, but guess what? He wouldn’t care.” Haechan pulled out his fingers and left you alone in the backseat. 

You sat there, a wreck and vulnerable, as you tried to catch your breath. You lay back on your forearms, curious eyes following his every movement.

“There’s a reason he hasn’t left you yet,” Haechan explained, opening the front door to his car to grab a condom and his phone. He tucked both into his back pocket before returning to you, bringing your lips to his before continuing to talk within the kiss.

“He’s stringing you along so you can boost his ego. He knows you will always be there for him, and you allow him to use you like that?” 

You wrapped your fingers around Haechan’s neck, squeezing it before pushing it away to keep your distance, your frustration starting to grow.

“I’m beginning to think you’re all bark and no bite, Donghyuck,” you muttered, and with whatever strength you had left, you pushed him against the seat and got into his lap. Without hesitation, you started rocking your hips over his clothed dick, hoping your slick would seep in so he could feel you.

He hissed but allowed you to do as you pleased, his grip tight on your hips.

“I-...I think…if you asked me, you’re the one who’s projecting. I’m the one in a relationship, and you’re just a side piece.”

The speed of your hips increased, and Haechan felt ecstasy on the tip of his tongue, the confinements of his pants physically paining him the more you continued.

“You’re jealous, Hyuck. Just admit it.”

You pulled at his hair, loving the absolute control you had over him at that moment, but in one languid motion, Haechan managed to push you back down, this time with your stomach against the seats. You could feel your bodily fluids sticking to the nylon, and with how hard Haechan was pressing down into you, you were barely given a chance to move. 

With one hand on your lower back, he kept you still as he took out both his phone and condom, making sure to place both on top of your bare skin.

“What’s there to be jealous of when you’re here under me? You want to be fucked stupid? Fine. Don’t fucking complain when you want me to be the villain.” You lurched at his words, refusing to let him win, but you were completely unable to do much damage as Haechan kicked off his pants and boxers while still keeping his weight on you.

He then picked up his phone and pulled up the camera, making sure to take a photo of you in his car before clicking record and tossing the phone onto the ground, hoping it was close enough to pick up on your sweet noises. 

“Make sure to be loud for me, yeah? I’m sure Yeonjun would love it if I sent that video to him.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you bit back, your hand reaching out in an attempt to grab the device, but Haechan was quicker to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back. 

“I wouldn’t because I know how to appreciate what’s mine.” Haechan released his hold on you to roll on the condom, giving you the opportunity to move and take his phone as you pleased. To your dismay, there was no more effort left within you, only an ache to feel Haechan inside you. 

“He appreciates me,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself otherwise as you waited.

“Does he record you? Jerk off to your moans every night? Because I would, Y/N, just for you.” His voice was now by your ear, and when you turned your head to look at him, he pulled you into another hungry kiss, his dick now grazing against your hole. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you bit back into the kiss, and he grinned against your lips, guiding his dick into you as he spoke.

“Psychotic, just for my princess.”

Venom laced his voice, dripping menacingly, and the insertion of his tip had you grasping for something in front of you, anything, and it was only then that you were able to process how thick his cock was.

“Can you take it?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before. When you gave him a curt nod, he continued pushing in further. Maybe lube should’ve been an option, but you were so wet for him that it didn’t matter, knowing that the stretch probably would have hurt regardless. 

“Fuck, fuck—he really doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Haechan gasped, his head resting against the back of yours. It was better than anything he’d dreamed of, better than any girl he imagined, because it was you, and your body was made for him.

“When was the last time he fucked you?” He was fully inside of you now, and when you didn’t answer, he decided to take it as a sign to move. With a firm grip on your waist, he pulled out just to slam back in, making you yell as you clawed at the seat, wishing there was something to bite on as you endured the pain that was quick to morph into pleasure. 

Every glide pushed you further into the car, your forearms occasionally hitting the door, as his hips moved vigorously, working up to a pace that had you moaning without pause. Tears were flowing down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure of being manhandled—of being Haechan’s rag doll when he was meant to be yours, and your body seized up, being worked up to your orgasm once more with how precise each thrust seemed to be. 

He adjusted to raise one of your legs to his hip, giving him a new angle to pound into you as he worships you with his dick, and you shook out of pleasure, whining as you saw white and reached your second orgasm for the night. You pulsated around his cock, strangled moans ripping from your throat as tears mixed with your drool by your chin.

And Haechan showed no signs of stopping.

He made sure to press your face down against the seats, wanting every liquid to fall and stain his car, giving him something to remember you by.

Oh, and there was the recording too.

While kneeling inside of the cramped car, he slowed his movements and inclined his torso towards you. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you up, locking you inside his elbow as he forced you to look into your reflection in the car window.

“Look at you, the school’s favorite slut. What happens if the recording drops? The whole school would know you’re mine, wouldn’t they?” He pressed his chest against your back, the mesh rubbing against your skin as his lips remained near your ear, forcing you to listen to every word.

You limped against him, your flames completely burnt out, and your fingers tugged onto the mesh around his arm, successfully ripping it after some time, but Haechan seemed unphased. In fact, it turned him on even more knowing that he had you locked in, that you were his.

“Look at your pretty cunt taking me in so well. It was so wet for me, wasn’t it? It still is. And guess what? You’re in my car. You belong to me, and my good girl is only now just finding out about it, isn’t she?” 

“I-I’m…I’m not-...not yours,” you retaliated, creating red angry marks into his skin with your nails as you endured being used, stifling your moans as you looked at how wrecked you were, how bare you seemed to be compared to Haechan. You were much more of a mess, from your hair to the bruises on your neck. Your pussy kept tightening up around his dick, convulsing occasionally with every hit toward your g-spot, and you held onto Haechan each time. 

Your head drooped down, thinking about how your heart ached for Yeonjun, yet the rest of your body was meant for Haechan.

“Whose fucking dick is inside of you right now?” He scoffed and pulled on your hair, forcing your head back up so he could directly speak into your ear. “Wake up, Y/N,” he demanded. “You’re mine.”

He dropped you back onto the seat like you were nothing, leaving you completely helpless, your throat void of any words as your eyes closed and met the back of your skull, too fucked out to communicate. You tried reaching for the door handle, just something to hold onto, yet you couldn’t.

“You tell me I’m pitiful, that I’m basically delusional when you’re going to be the reason my car will smell like sex for weeks.”

Your face was forced back into the puddle of liquid you created earlier, being shifted back and forth against the seat as if you were made for his dick and not vice versa.

“It’s crazy how pathetic you are, how willing you are to break yourself down in front of everyone just to have him. That-...fuck…that you’re so convinced he wants you and you two are soulmates.” He dragged his fingers through your hair and grabbed your roots. “You called me, you wanted me, and I have you right now, moaning my name, and you have nothing.”

Something about his words kept bringing out your orgasms, each thrust adding to the pleasure immensely. You didn’t know how much you could handle—afraid you may pass out from how much he was using you, from his tight grip around you to his dick hitting inside of you mercilessly.

Haechan whispering ‘I won, Y/N’ was what had you losing it, your high this time ending up stronger than the rest. You were fully crying now, and yet he continued as if you were nothing.

He peppered your shoulder with kisses and had the slight decency to slow his pace, but he also took note of your sobs.

“Don’t tell me you still want him,” he began rambling, his lips still on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me after this that your heart still belongs to him, because if that were the case, I’d make you call him right now. Say you wish it was him instead of me, and that he’s the love of your life while you’re stuffed with my dick. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You could no longer think, and what you hated most was how reactive your body was—how you were just able to come for the third time, but Haechan’s dick solely being inside you snapped some other straw you weren’t aware you had, finding that your last high was incoming. 

Haechan had picked up the pace by then, and by knowing your body incredibly well, he reached down to your sensitive clit to relieve you. You both knew your fourth was incoming, and you held on tight to his arm.

“D-Dongh- hyuck, I’m—”

“Mine.”

You cried out, your entire body shaking, and Haechan pulled out, immediately releasing onto your back with a guttural moan after yanking off the condom. He was forced to catch his breath, watching you float in and out of consciousness.

Your eyes were closed, struggling to breathe through your sobs, and Haechan consoled you with a kiss on the back of your shoulder. 

“You’re mine, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaving to grab paper towels from his trunk. You were heaving, still shaking, and left alone as a mess in his backseat, yet with him gone, you felt even more useless, wanting him back by your side instantly. You weakly cried out for him, your nails dragging against the seat in hopes of being in his arms soon, and maybe he was right.

Maybe you were his.

OUR INFERNO [ M.LIST | TWO ]

NAVIGATION — NCT DREAM

© https://hcuyk.tumblr.com/

[gyumibear]

˗ˏˋ STUPID CUPID ˎˊ˗

“cupid, what you do to me….” | stupid cupid — nct dream

synopsis ── after your latest forum fails miserably, you’re almost out of an extracurricular! that is, until a mysterious account going by the name “cupid” brings you just the thing you need to fix your reputation: park wonbin, radio show host and your longtime crush. with the help of cupid, wonbin suddenly falls head over heels in love with you! you’d expect for this to be a good thing right? but no! everyone’s starting to notice how strange wonbin’s acting and now it’s up to you to figure out how and if you can get wonbin back to normal before anyone finds out what you’ve done. especially because “cupid” has disappeared… stupid cupid.

pairing — campus crush!park wonbin x journalist!reader

genre — smau + written. romcom. suggestive. love spell au. college au. angst. “strangers” to lovers.

warnings — hella swearing + crude humor (kys jokes). mentions/illusions to: food/sex/alcohol consumption. fighting (physical and verbal). mind control (what cupid does is essentially brainwashing). light jealous and possessive behaviors. use of pictures of yn but only for reference. everyone makes fun of each other a lot, but not maliciously. yn is a manga reader so spoilers for jjk, csm, the summer hikaru died & black butler. more warnings in the actual chapters, but please always lmk (!!) if i missed something. keep in mind: this story doesn’t describe the idols in real life and is written by a blk person so aave will be used.

playlist — stupid cupid nct dream. mutual butterflies ryan trey. don’t get mad wayv. cosmic red velvet. one kiss riize. love language hibiki. off the record ive. 2nite p1harmony.

notes — the taglist is open! (26/50) updates every saturday! creds to the respective artists for the graphics used! please consider reblogging or replying with your thoughts on each chapter!! it means the world to me but i appreciate spam likes too! you can join the taglist by replying to THIS post. asks will be deleted sorry </3… it’s just easier to manage for me.

profiles ── hate91.1 | public forum mods | specialz

act one let me monopolize that heart…

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ONE ── this week’s forum

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TWO ── nobody wants wonbin

ᯓᡣ𐭩 THREE ── chat… am i cooked?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FOUR ── tell her the truth

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FIVE ── party ready!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SIX ── byob (bring your own baby)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SEVEN ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 EIGHT ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 NINE ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TEN ──

act two girl you got me crazy…

to be added…!

additional notes ── ah sunny back again with another smau! yippee!! um, i don’t have much to say except hii if you’re new round these parts.. i hope y’all enjoy because i worked hard and i hope this doesn’t flop? i’ll be sad. pleek.. pleek…?

early taglist ── @onlyhyunjin @pxnklover @glorism @nujeskz @soheendo @starwonb1n

2024 © GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify, or translate my work onto other social media sites.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Six | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

“Fuck!”

The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief. 

You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.

“You ‘lright?”

The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”

Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.

“What’d ya do to your hand?”

He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.

“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.

“Give it ‘er.”

You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.

“Just surprised, is all.”

“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”

He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”

His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are. 

“You have a cigarette?”

The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.

“It’s just Shane…”

You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.

“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.” 

“Hey…”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.

“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”

Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for. 

Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips. 

“It was nothin���.”

You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.

Taglist: 

@minervadashwood

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@dreamtofus

@youcantstandit

@ajlovesdilfs

@prettywhenibleed

@luvsvnlqt-things

@strnqer

@marina-isabella

@lissanovak

@elissanatok

@luv-4-aria

@moejoeflow-blog

@ceoofdisappointment

@jewellthebooknerd

@callsignwidow

@genderless-ghosty-boi

@all-will-be-well-love

@tabzthemightyyyy

@mychemicalimagines

@nosebleeds-247

@catradora333

@punicorn999

@tybsbnbn

@i-wear-wet-socks313

@sunny92sworld

@echothy

@ta3baee

@rottngzombi

@rhey-007

@all-will-be-well-love

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, v. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook & taehyung)

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 8.2k

summary: everything that hurt has stopped.  

pinterest board: smoke / playlist: moon kitty's playlist / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: yoongi is perfect, mutual masturbation, lots of lustful thoughts of sex and oral, yoongi's pov—literally the biggest warning, sex toys, desperation, praise kink, neediness, mentions of punishment & an actual punishment, too.

note: this might be the best chapter in the series and unfortunately, it's the last chapter i post before my hiatus. thanks to my bestest friend in the world, @tkslovechild, this series is finally moving forward somewhere and it's not a source of my depression anymore. i hope you all enjoy this chapter, my babies. see you after my hiatus. i will miss you all, terribly. luna loves you forever.

side note: make sure to listen to oc's playlist. it's so good.

The lights must be blaring, in the bizarre simplicity of our current happenstance, and the toys for adults must be tinged with a variety of colors, but my eyes are moored on the prismatic delicacy of her utter engrossment. 

Pupils wide and swallowing each detail of the display of the instruments of pleasure, my cock is so tight in my pants that I struggle for air, my fists clenched by my sides, ever so ready to snatch the product she points at just so I could become the means to make that joy explode further in her. She teased me in the car with her naughty songs, with her coy glances at me to suss out whether I caught onto the meaning—when in reality I tried my fucking hardest not to give in to my imagination and crash my car. Her body was curled so divinely, facing me, and my hands gripped the steering wheel until the leather squeaked. We laughed about it, she blamed me for farting, and I longed to kiss her until she would shut up. 

And I should have—because now she’s teasing me with her utmost fascination with a certain clit sucker. 

Whatever color it is. 

It was her idea to head inside this store. We drove around through the moonlit streets of Seoul for an hour, listening to her playlist reverberating throughout the vehicle. With the windows pulled down, the miscellaneous paraphernalia of her soul—the erotism of persona, the melancholia of her heart and the despondency caused from her pain—rumbling out of them, letting everyone see and hear the echo of her newly bloomed enthusiasm and the sprightliness of her being. She was alive at night, alive with me, liking the principle of me learning about her through this artful form. And I liked her liking that. 

The songs spoke what our mouths couldn’t, communicating for us, because we acted as though my own pain didn’t break us apart. In the vivacity of the car drive, in the lapis lazuli of our own exclusive, atmospheric globe, I didn’t tell her off for being bare for me the previous morning. No, I took off her night dress and drank from the sweet nectar of her bosom, right there on the ivory of her plush couch until she drenched it so well that she blushed. 

In fact, it’s the only thing I voiced out in terms of the conflict. 

Perhaps it was due to the influence of her songs, laced with the heady aroma of her energy—fuck, if I know, but I didn’t regret my words. 

Not this time. 

And her glimmering cheeks flushed like they did in my imagination, tightening my cock in the easy way that she was only capable of doing. I seized the tension between us—and I might as well clasped my hand over her thighs, which were still turned to me, with how her breath hitched in her throat in reaction to my brazenness. 

It was the reason why she wrapped her fingers around my wrist when we walked by that sex shop en route to the restaurant I chose, stopping me dead in my tracks. She held our sexuality close to her chest, not adding to it in the car, but unraveling it there, in the middle of the street, with strangers passing by. Gave me a look only a moon kitty like her could, mischievous yet innocent, and tilted her head in the direction of the store. And I knew, deep in my heart, that it was the little creature inside her that dragged me in—no longer neglected, but attuned to my attention, to my care and the respect I wafted towards her. 

There were no two sides to her, and on no account did we stand on the opposite sides of the chessboard with our agonies, despite the fact all I could see was the monochrome of its pattern once I regarded her enthrallment. 

Somehow, we are unified at this very moment,  and I crave to buy her that clit sucker. 

“Choose a color,” I rasp, and my cock agrees with me, twitching at the idea of her picking a color of her liking, one that can match her nails or perhaps the dark wine of her hair. One that bewitched me so profusely once I observed it under that soft white light of the interior of my car, its sleekness dipping into my heart that began to thunder for her. One that absolutely pales in comparison as I look at it now, the red dull and bleak, my sight unfolding in colors. My craving expands when her eyes widen at my seemingly brainsick idea, digging into mine while her tightened lips quiver in a smile. I smirk, enjoying her coy reaction, and I take this teasing into another dimension, austerely because I want to—and because I can, because we can. “Maybe the red one to match your hair.” 

Her gasp melts into a delicate laughter that tickles my insides and, mindlessly, she runs her elongated fingers through the ends of her hair at her tummy. Taps her long, cross-embellished nail, on another package beside it. “This one has the thingy that vibrates inside you.” 

It’s the same rose toy, but with a silicone attachment with a bulbous end. I’m not sure how those violent vibrations inside her walls can feel pleasurable for her, but the way she gazes at it—with a smirk akin to mine and lowered long lashes that languidly beat against the tops of her cheeks—propels me to seek my answer. 

I take it in my hands, inspecting it further. And I notice that the petals hide a small tongue in their center, simulating an oral sex for her lonesome times. 

Heat clings to my skin as I grow feverish. I am leaving for a tour in a few weeks. Who will be there to eat her sweet little pussy? 

The apples of her cheeks blaze in pinkness, regarding me as she is, and I lick my lips. “This one licks your clit. Do you think it’ll do a better job than me?” 

The rose tint deepens at my teasing words and all I can think about is how she’s gonna press those petals deeper and deeper into her folds, digging her long nails into the silicon surface just like she dug her nails into my scalp. And suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. 

I fast forward. 

“Do you want this thing or the bullet?” I ask her, impatient, but for what—I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t stay in this place any longer with my imagination bursting forth and clouding everything negative I ever felt towards this girl. And while the newness crests joy and contentment in me, I need to be distracted from the lust that has become so natural between us. Or else, I bend her over in this aisle, rip the package open and use it on her while I fuck her dumb. 

I might become unhinged. Just for her, just for the flush blanketing her features. Just so I have her positive feelings in my hands. 

She’s too overwhelmed to respond, redder than her hair and it’s endearing. Kitty cups her face and turns around, letting me see her back, and I do the thing I unknowingly wanted to do the moment I inched closer to her. 

I brush my hand down her noble spine, clothed in the sheer fabric of her tight top that exposes her camisole underneath to me. I hook my fingers on the belt loop of her baggy jeans and bring her back to me. Her gasp is so tender and so unlike her when she collides into me, her fists bunched on the top of my chest, her hair a mess—tangled on her forehead and eyelashes and I’m awestruck. 

By her beauty, by the way there’s no end to her. And I want to keep acknowledging myself with the inexhaustible wholeness of her until I’m gray and stooped in the old age of my affection for her. 

No gold, no golden power staining my hands. She’s silver and I am desperate for that moonlit glory to mist my veins. Privately, for me and her. A thing only we know of. 

No Sun-mi, no Jungkook. 

Pinching the strands of hair away from her face, she seems to be swimming in a thought I’m very curious about. Even more so, when she engages her hands and hangs them over my neck. Calmness relaxes the muscles of my stomach and I take a detailed note of that. 

No anxiousness, no winged demons beneath. 

This is right. This is how it should’ve been from the start. Playfulness, a little bit of lust, and a whole lot of exuberance. Nothing else, at least not this early on. 

And even though I asked her a million naughty questions that I’d love for her to sophistically answer for me, something whispers in my gut that I should share my thoughts with her. And without a hint of fear, I do. 

“This is good, isn’t it?” I murmur, tipping my chin, my body leading me to lean my forehead against hers and I do—I do, I do. Kitty sighs, oddly validating me, and I continue. “I mean I wasn’t planning on buying you a fucking clit sucker tonight, but I’m glad we’re here.” 

She laughs and I lift my head, needing to see her expression of delight. And atypically, my mouth rounds in the same grin and the same laughter spills out of me. 

One that breaks into an indecent groan when she finally graces me with her response. 

“You know, they have rose toys for men as well. So if I’m getting one, you’re buying one, too.” 

It’s like she palmed me over my jeans with her words, but I disagree with a fraction of it. 

“Wrong. I’m getting you one.” 

She appears to be stunned by my willfulness to not let her spend a dime when she’s with me, her mouth parted and her head cocking back just once. And when she closes her pretty, half-glossy mouth, curls the pillows under her teeth and drops her eyes, her palms sliding down my chest, she accepts it. 

And I feel like a man, not a skeleton of who I used to be. 

“You’ll be getting two, then.” 

I chuckle. Draw near to her ear, sinking under the waterfall of her hair, and I hear her breathing harden. “I can get three if you can’t decide,” I flirt, pulling back more to edge her than to stuff my hand with the other toy that includes the bullet, holding it up for her. Her pools sparkle as she looks at them before perching up at mine, melting.

I bite my lip, feral; and I don’t wait for her to answer once I stack them up in one hand, pivoting on my feet. 

“Wait.” 

She steals the box with the bullet and puts it back to its original place. Replaces it with a male version of it, her smile cheerful and full of mischief. I take something else that I cover from her sight, which glides upon the display of all kinds of different cock rings and whatnot. 

Little does she know what I intend to surprise her with as soon as she allows me back into her girlish lust. 

My heart hammers in my chest in tandem with my cock as I pay for it. And I hope that she gets the memo. 

That she’s not just a fling—and certainly not just a friend. 

“Do you think your toy will pass through security?” 

Had I not swallowed my noodles, I would’ve spat them out at her black little outfit. Kitty giggles at my reaction—at the frozen tension in my face as I gaze up at her from my bowl, the soup dripping from my chin. Our movements are simultaneous—hands letting go of our chopstick, but while mine reach for a napkin, hers rummage in the white plastic bag I set down on the empty chair beside me. 

The table is too narrow, and it’s a blessing and a curse. 

Her vanilla perfume hits my nostrils and I’m convinced it’s what the moon must smell like. The box of the male toy is overly big for her hands and her hair shields her from me as she discreetly reads the description and the instructions. I widen my legs under the table, my bloodstream focusing on only one body part of mine, and I wonder if that’s what she was truly thinking of while she ate her own bowl of noodles. 

Fucking myself with a rose fleshlight. Away from her; across the sea. 

Jungkook must’ve told her about our tour. I wasn’t going to mention it tonight because I didn’t want to ruin the night with the sombreness of my work. As much as I looked forward to seeing our Army from that side of the globe, I wasn’t happy with the decision installed upon us—wasn’t happy that our management didn’t ask us about our feelings, whether we’re ready for it or not. It was more of a—you have a job now, do it well, cameras will be rolling—and that was the end of it. Namjoon sensed my dissatisfaction, slouching in his chair in front of me, with his jaw propped between his fingers and his eyes piercing through me but he, too, couldn’t say a thing. 

None of us could. 

It cast me to a deeper sea of my anguish that I didn’t want to stream into my ordinary life with Kitty. I was going to tell her as soon as my fresh emotions would’ve settled and we would’ve settled to the same extent, though having the toy be in the center of it changes everything now. 

It’ll be different. 

I won’t be a puppet, channeling my humanness through my love for our beloved Army. On the contrary, I will be a dancing fool, knowing I have someone waiting for me back in Seoul while being the epitome of my deepest longings and sentiments overseas. My heart, the toy and the means of our communication. 

I wasn’t going to bring the toy with me because if the members were ever to find out, I wouldn’t live it down. But if it makes that sparkle in her irises last a little longer, I shall put extra care into hiding it at the bottom of my suitcase. 

“You want me to take it?” I ask, softly, leaning back in my chair, one hand on the table, the other across my thigh. Her smile curves as she glimpses up at me, and I still can’t believe she pulled out an actual sex toy in a restaurant filled with hungry drunken people. If anyone recognizes me, I’m fucked. Majestically, devastatingly fucked if they take a picture, the said picture gets to our management and I have to write an apology letter on Weverse afterward. 

I’m sorry for having a personal life with a beautiful girl who’s unlike any shallow pretty faces I’ve come across. I will be more mindful of my actions in the future.

Fuck that. 

She can take it out of the packaging and see if it needs to be charged before we can use it if she so much as wishes so. 

We.

Yes, that’s right.

I’m not the same person I was yesterday, and something tells me that I have her to thank for that. 

“Well, I’m sure the Christmas spirit will get to you and you’ll be lonely. Also, let’s not forget it’ll be cuffing season most of all.” 

It’s funny she says that, considering what I secretly bought for her. Hysterical, in fact. Hilarious. 

It’s hidden in the pocket of my jacket, so even though she followed her curiosity into the bag, she still doesn’t know about the surprise that awaits her. I took it out when I let her walk in front of me, discreetly. It brought me more joy than I thought I was ever capable of bearing. 

Still, I wonder how much more of it I can be filled with. And I want to tempt it—brim with it. I reckon she’s the safest person to take that risk with, but the quiet, unknown voice in me adds that it’s not a risk at all. 

Quite the opposite. 

And the idea of cuffing her, both literally and figuratively, draws me closer to that cliff of brisk water of that ultimate joy and I want to get soaked. I want to drink. 

I want to be cleansed by it. 

“Would you like to be cuffed by me, little one?” 

It was automatic, the pet name streaming out of my mouth like that mini waterfall I seem to be dazed by. The question, too. And I’m not afraid, not even a hint of dread crawls upon me, and I find myself hoping that it stays. That everything I do and say from now on is of that automatic matter, unabashed, not blocked, not held back. 

I hope to be a real person with her. Without any ghosts, any demons. Any pain to scar her with. 

The little one doesn’t smile this time, shrinks in her flummox, but still I don’t fear, I don’t wish to grasp my words and put them back in my throat. Taking little steps means grazing your knees and I’m here to place band aids on her bleeding spots. 

I’m here for her. 

And my belief is supported by my actions this whole evening. 

The person I was yesterday is almost unrecognizable to me and I pray, I pray and I will pray once this night is over that it shall remain so. 

“I’m not sure what kind of question you’re asking me right now,” she murmurs, leaning her elbows on the table, drawing close to me like I’m drawing close to her, and it’s good enough. I don’t ask for anything else from her. 

“It’s the one you think it is,” I rasp, making her eyes widen slightly, and I have to chuckle. She’s so damn adorable, standing outside of her comfort zone, and my own eye is watchful over her, over her little steps, band aids ready in my hands. 

At the sound of my soft laughter, she drops her gaze, running her tongue over the inside flesh of her cheek—and there it is. That kind heat rushing through her. I want her to be smoldered by it. 

I want a lot of things when it comes to her, a phenomenon that forces me ponder if there ever will be an end to it. It’s better than feeling dissatisfaction regarding someone, digging a hand deep in them, expecting gold, yet plucking out stones that only cut your skin eventually. The more you dig, the bigger the wound. But I don’t have to do that in her. The little one, the moon kitty herself, gives it over, willingly. All of her silver moon dust, glory, and the ashes from her firelight. 

Maybe that’s how it should be. 

Not expecting, not reaching, but being given, being provided. 

Her eyelids lift and descend over the package in her hands before they root upon mine. And her response to my words keeps me company all the way to America. 

“Show me how well you can use this and I just might be.” 

Dead or alive, I blur between the lines. Jet lagged or just sick with love, it is a conjoined affair in me like the two halves of my heart. 

I miss her, even though I haven’t been able to unattach myself from my phone, the only tangible connection between us—the back and forth exchange of words, emojis and stickers that I had never used in my life but began to spam our conversations with once she coyly hid behind them. I miss her, even though I spent nearly every day with her until I boarded my flight. 

In Jungkook’s hotel room, the members share a meal together while I stay back, settled comfortably on the beige couch by the floor-length windows as the morning sun shimmers its rays across the walls. I’m sporting a hard-on, which I camouflage with a rough-textured pillow across my lap, due to the contents of our text messages. Hobi is slurping his ramen next to me, elbows propped on his elbows, posture slouched, oblivious to the fact that the girl of his platonic dreams is horny and challenging me to join her in her evening self-care. 

Yes, Hobi has developed a crush on the moon kitty and I was the first one to know. 

During the last of our leisure time in November before the tour, Hobi called me up and asked me to join him on his last drinking adventure before our work duties swallowed us. He lured me into his apartment with the two bottles of Hennessy that he had bought for the occasion and we talked work, we talked our management and we talked girls. 

He admitted to me how guilty he felt for triggering such unpleasant memories in Kitty’s mind after I shared with him the reason why I picked her up into my arms and walked away from him. I was purposefully vague in my speech, not wanting to disclose such privacy without her present, without her knowing especially, and Hobi respected that. Told me he thought about her since that day, remembering only the negative, tethered wisps that seemed to curl tightly in his gut. And I, drunk out of my mind, doting and devoted, shared with him that I wanted her. 

Made sure to emphasize in my admission that she was mine. 

It was the bravest thing I ever had done. 

Hobi understood, explained to me that how he regarded her was strictly friendly. Thought that she carried a certain elegance of beauty that was unprecedented in today’s culture, however, with which I enthusiastically agreed. Then he clutched my shoulder, the wounded one, with extra tenderness, looked me carefully in the eye, and gave me a groundbreaking word of advice that shook through my world. 

Don’t treat her like you treated Sun-mi. 

I didn’t grasp the meaning until we opened the second bottle and Hobi, seeing my puzzlement, fleshed out his wisdom. 

Don’t cling, don’t make her the air you breathe. Just live your life by her side and breathe your own air. You worked too hard to get here to backtrack. 

And I tried, within the little time we had together. 

We didn’t fuck, we didn’t devour each other’s bodies. We conversed, I learned her favorite color, the name of her favorite band, the dishes she liked—and the common ins and outs of her life. White wasn’t the only color of her soul, she liked red; that deep, dark tint one would only witness alive in the depth of the night. She liked the color of the stop lights, of the tail lights; she liked the way it bathed my face in gentle, undangerous fire whenever we would get stuck in traffic on our car drives—and apparently she liked my patience. 

Chase Atlantic was her favorite band. 

Tteokbokki her favorite dish. 

And I was her favorite person. A fact I already knew by the way she would kiss me at those favorite stop lights of hers. 

That was all we did. Kiss and converse. And I didn’t cling to her, didn’t make her the air I breathed. On the contrary, following Hobi’s wisdom, I fell for her in the purest of ways, which I somehow made possible in this befouled world. 

And, perhaps, she did, too. A deduction of mine because she began to smoke in front of me at some point. 

She was afraid I wouldn’t like it, a sensitive wound that she let me in on—a formless, unclear one that kept me wide awake at night, scrambling my brain to try and figure out what the fucker before me did to her. That was, until she told me, upon our last car drive during that last week we’d have with each other, that the said wound was caused by my own fault. 

I told her off for being bare for me at the beginning of the trajectory of our closeness and I sowed a poisonous plant of a hang-up in her. A block in her brain that pressured her to hide the “questionable” parts of her from me. 

But there weren’t any questionable parts of her—and I told her, after I pulled out my own pack, lit up one, grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her until her lungs were depleted of air. 

It was the bloom of our lust, particularly the vocal, intense apology I strung into her lips, kissing them deeper and deeper until they swelled. It was the beginning of our naughty text messages—right on the cusp of my absence, hooking onto my yearning and expanding it to heavenly dimensions. 

Yes, heavenly. Our closeness represented heaven as we had forgotten about our toys and remembered them during our hypersexual conversations. Face to face, we focused on the stimulation of our connected intellect, our intertwined characters; phone to phone, our bodies sought compensation.

And right now, upon the first morning here in the US, the moon kitty is persuading me into unpacking my suitcase and using the rose toy in my room. 

She’s straining, working so hard, sending me her little stickers of adorable, pleading animals, incognizant to the fact that I don’t need to be that much impelled to do it. She’s staying up for me, needy in bed—I made my decision the second she mentioned it. 

I merely delight in her saying please. 

I get off on it; it makes my cock rock hard and the concept of the members being around and unaware of what she’s doing to me—especially Jungkook, who’s stimming and happy to be eating after a restless night—heightens my pleasure, lengthening towards the heavens. 

If only I could take her there. With my tongue. Like I did the first time, holding her body down so she wouldn’t rise higher without me. 

pleaseeeeee, i’m gonna start without you if you dont get up rn 

I smile at the text message and I imagine her writhing in her bed, her bedsheets crumpled and tousled around her, her fingers tracing the curved petals of her rose toy—itching, impatient, needy; waiting for me. 

My cock grows. And I, too, meet my impatience. 

Just a second. Be good, I respond back to her, locking my phone and immersing myself in reality. 

The boys are uncharacteristically quiet, each one indulging in an activity of their own. Jungkook is huffing, his cheeks full and around, staring down his plate of food as if it was about to grow its own legs and walk away from him. Jimin is watching him with an endeared smile that is split by a secrecy all of us are aware of. Lopsided, its glow is shunned out by the tender, doleful layer of wetness in his eyes. And I know that his tummy will get full by watching him eat and that it will be his only source of fulfilling food for today. 

I clench my fists. 

Hobi beside me has finished his own breakfast and has entered his food coma, staring into nothing at the ceiling as he rests his neck against the backrest of the couch. Taehyung is looking at me in a way that brings my eyes back to him for a double take. With a smirk and a glint in the gentleness of his eyes, he flicks his browns at his own phone and nods his head, telling me something in the silent language that I don’t want him to. 

He noticed something he shouldn’t have. 

The words are flung out of me long before I comprehend what I’m saying, up and ready on my feet, covering my erection with the thick hem of my oversized shirt. 

“I’m gonna head to mine for a bit and take a shower,” I announce, making heads lift in my direction, and considering my situation, I cower in shyness, keeping my back to them as I walk towards the front door. 

“The stylist is coming at one pm and we have a soundcheck at three thirty,” Namjoon informs, and I pivot to look at him, at all six of them while my hand remains on the doorknob. 

Jungkook is rubbing his eyes and I take one last look at his faded mint hair, saying goodbye to it in my heart. I know what hair color I’m changing my silver hair to, thought of it on the plane and was immediately convinced it was my greatest idea. I nod, sweeping my eyes over the last five heads as if I was going to come back to them as a different person. 

Perhaps I was. 

I ignore Taehyung and his knowing smile as I leave, racking my brain, trying to come up with the reason why he’s acting like this. Did Hobi say something or was I not careful enough, divulging my secret out in the open with my face or my body language? Was the pillow over my lap and my eyes, all of my attention glued to my phone making it that obvious that I’m seeing someone? 

How would they react if they knew it was the Kitty girl? 

I leave it be for now, my cock asking for attention. I fish out my hotel key card and close everything behind me. Taehyung’s all seeing eye, Jimin’s diet and I stoop in my homesickness. 

It’s been two days and I feel as though Kitty ripped my heart out of my chest and folded it somewhere inside her purse when we hugged for the last time. I reminisce on her innocent touch on my neck, the only place she ever touched me besides my hair, on her lips that pressed against that place her hands warmed as I video call her. 

She picks up, immediately. 

I can only see her round head, the red of her hair sprawled messily on the silky, light beige cover of her pillow while the rest of her body is shrouded by that material. She smiles at me, no hint of embellishment lining her face—and something tells me that she’s all bare underneath her bed sheets, too. 

I palm my cock, desperate. 

“How long were you gonna keep me waiting?” she asks, and proves me right as she raises a hand and props it behind her head, the duvet drifting down a little and exposing the beginning of her fleshy peak and my mouth waters. I licked and kissed that breast of hers once upon a time and I would do anything to have that opportunity right now. I would do a better job; I would drive her insane. Spoil her with kisses so harsh that she would reach a point in heaven that no one ever has. 

I think about her question and deem I could never keep her waiting long if I were all by myself. “You know who I was with. Was I supposed to pull out my dick in front of them?” 

She giggles at my bizarre response, shifting her head to find a more comfortable spot, and the wholeness of her breasts greets me.

Bless all silky beddings. The superior invention of all. 

“Oh, hello there,” I joke, deepening her giggles and she angles her phone so I don’t see anything, breaking me apart. 

I shall punish her for it. 

I set my phone down against the table by the wall and take my shirt off. My angle allows her to see the state of me that she created with her lust—by telling me that she was up and desperate for me, craving the toy that I bought for her and that she wouldn’t use it unless I did with her at the same time. I didn’t need any details, any obscenities that I know full well she’s capable of giving me. Just her admitting to me that she needed me, trusting me enough with that intimate information made me so hard that I couldn’t contain myself. 

I watch her eyes glide down my body that isn’t good enough to be regarded like she does, stopping at the weakness she’s effectuated in my groin. And I let her, the first person who ever looked at me with such raw, undomesticated hunger. 

And I wish she would eat me up. Get on a plane, get to this hotel, to my room and take her time taking out my bones. I am for her taking—and I have been since the first time our eyes linked. 

“You’re not really helping me right now,” she croaks out, her raspy voice enveloping around my aching cock and I can say the same. Especially when she shifts entirely, rolls over to her tummy and I can see her natural face better, the carmine of her hair that veils and tickles her cleavage, enough that she flicks it behind her shoulder, letting me be the witness to her bare skin. 

Now she’s punishing me. 

“Was I supposed to help you? I thought we’re helping ourselves,” I tease, and my words pull her mouth apart, even more so when I begin to take off my belt, making sure I tug it out of my belt loops swiftly. She bites her lip, ruining me, and I want to use that leather on her. I fold it in half and point it at her. “This is what you’re getting once I see you.” 

She licks the skin she bit onto, her eyes widening, and I quiver—I quiver because she likes the idea. 

“What for?” she asks, raising her voice a little bit, and I chuckle. 

“For being so goddamn beautiful.” 

Kitty blushes and curls her lips under her teeth like I’ve noticed she so often does. I like it so much, so fucking much that I yearn for her to do it when she takes my cock into her throat for the first time. 

I know she will do a good job, swallowing every inch. 

“Where’s your toy, huh?” 

My chuckle is savage this time, vibrating in my sternum and I watch her perk up at the sound like the kitten she is. I descend into madness, willingly, hasty to jump head-first into this thing, despite my following words. 

“You just can’t wait, can you?” 

Her ‘no’ is etched all over her flushed cheeks and I crave to kiss it, run my lips all over it so they can remember it beyond this day, this month—all the way into the new year. 

“Did you pass through security with it or does the entire LAX know what a slut you are?” 

Her words spring in me, exciting me further more, and I can’t help but smile and blush, like her. I drop my gaze, fondle the leather of my belt, and I feel little sparks of muted electricity shooting down my arms. My mind outruns me, picturing the way I physically destroy her for her bratty, delicious mouth, and my smile blossoms, denting into my face. 

“Your ass is gonna be red, little one. So fucking red you won’t be able to sit down.” 

She doesn’t back away at the threat and I visibly see my own reaction reflecting in her. And it’s my mouth that parts this time when she props her phone against something, rises her chest in the air and sits down on her folded legs. And I have to hold onto the table, with the belt still caged in my grasp, when she spreads her thighs and gives me the consent to see all of her. 

Her perked, full breasts, asking for me. Her soft tummy, perfect for my hands to hold. And my own personal ruination down low, between those thighs, glistening and sopping wet. 

“Not even like this?” 

My cock aches. I let go of the belt and the clanging sound accompanies me as I unbutton my pants. “Not even like this.” 

My desire lodges at the bottom of me, pent-up and animalistic. And I take my phone, rummage in my opened suitcase for the toy, lube and head for the shower. My manliness doesn’t even move due to how hard I am. 

Hearing the sizzling noise of the blasting stream of the shower, her brows scrunch up in confusion and I enjoy her obliviousness to her punishment. 

“You’re taking a shower?” 

I’m not too sure about how loud the toy is and I’m not risking having my members eavesdropping on our intimate act with their ears pressed against the thin walls. I’m absolutely not risking shit, locking the door behind me after I leave her in the small rectangular hole in the shower and dispose myself of my underwear. 

And when I step inside and the water dribbles down my sensitive skin, ignited from my lust and hers, I discover that my plan is working out perfectly. 

She can’t see anything. 

She can’t see the lower half of my body—and she won’t be able to watch the petal-ornamented mouth of the toy swirling around my cock. 

And that’s what she gets, talking like that. 

“Get your toy ready, kitty,” I say, letting the water drench me before I get the job done. I push my hair back and I hear her gasp, the sound making me stop my movements. I look over to her, swiping the drops from my eyes, and I find her humping her hand ever so slowly. I rage, beautifully, wishing that was my hand she was gliding her pussy on until I realize that I’m the reason she slid her hand down there. But that still doesn’t mean she’s allowed to do so. “No touching or we stop.”

My heart hammers in my chest when she complies and my weakness for her increases, filling up every part of me until she’s the very owner of me. 

I swell up with pride. 

“Good girl.” 

At my praise she plunges her wet fingers into her mouth and I lose my sanity. I lose my name, my identity, and the knowledge of my whereabouts. I’m not in LA, where I don’t want to be, carrying my responsibilities and the pressure of unfairness on my back, but I’m somewhere else entirely. All by myself in a place, where she’ll soon join me. A wintry island, just for us, where I’m not an idol, where I don’t have a job that forces me away from her, but where I’m free. Free to do whatever I please. 

“Good fucking girl. Let me have a taste.” I lean my palms against the edge of the hole and I die when she reaches her shiny fingers towards me, towards the camera. I hum, the sound interwoven with my gentle laughter, and I stop myself before I lick the screen. “Thank you. So good, Kitty. Now, can you be the best girl ever and lick your toy? Make it nice and wet for your pussy?” 

Her breath trembles as she exhales, reaching over for the red rose beyond the set-up of her phone. And she rests her chest against the mattress, upthrusts her bum in the air and while she’s this close to the camera, she darts out her tongue and drags it over the silicone hole in the center, her alluring eyes fixed on me. 

My arousal oozes out of my tip, scalding hot, and I suck in a breath, fucked out. 

“Fuck, baby,” I husk, my eyelids lowering as my whole body catches on fire, and I can’t respire. I grip the edge until my fingers are bathed in white. My desire asks for more. “Spit on it for Oppa.” 

She moans and I nearly explode, my memories of her noises when I was tongue-deep in her flooding through my mind, and I can’t take any more of it. Especially not the discovery that she’s keen on titles, keen on me being the dominant one. 

My palm itches for my cock, but I won’t give in. Not yet. 

Kitty gathers her saliva and she seizes all of me when she spits on it, circling her tongue around the rim, spreading it there. And then she whines and my manliness twitches, painfully, ridding me of any sense I had left. 

“Can we start now, please?” she begs, and I’m ready to give her everything. 

I moisten my lips. “Wait for just a little while, baby. Let Oppa get his toy ready.” 

And under her gaze, I squirt the lube inside the hollowness and all over myself, sighing and tilting my head back when I scatter the liquid along my shaft. The pressure of my fist is delicate, yet it feels as though I’m levitating. I’m confident it’s owing to the fact I’m being watched by those rounded eyes of hers and that she’s observing what her psyche has done to me. 

“I want to see you,” she whimpers, and I don’t feel like punishing her any longer. 

I unclench my fist. “What pretty word do you use when you ask for something?” 

She doesn’t even think about it and my pride enlarges. “Please.”

“That’s a good fucking kitty.” 

She sits up and nearly fucks her mattress, moaning into her hand—and I know, I already know that I won’t last long under these circumstances. 

I’m so eager to give her what she wants that I don’t perceive that she's never seen this private part of me before until she gasps so fucking loudly that I startle. I’ve set her on the lower shower shelf and her mouth is wide open, the toy prepared in her hand. 

“You’re so…” she trails off, shy all of a sudden, and I might pay for her plane tickets after my shower. I’m fucking her so hard that I’ll mark every single inch of mine inside her pretty pussy. 

“Tiny,” I finish for her, and she laughs in that dopey way, even though we haven’t even started yet. 

“Will that toy even… fit you?” she asks, her pools entwined to my cock, transfixed, and I long to kiss her. Despairingly. 

I look down to my little man, to the toy and eventually to her. “I’ll make it fit.” 

Her breath hitches in her throat, pleasuring me. “If you talk like that while we do our thing, I won’t be able to hold out.” 

I hum, deeply, my endearment. “Why is that a problem?” She’s taken aback, like she always is whenever we talk, and I tilt my head towards the toy in her hand. “I want you to ride it for me.” 

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and places the rose between her legs without taking her eyes off of mine. Ever so dangerous, ever so aphrodisiacal. “I want you to fuck it for me.” 

I groan, wrapping my fist around my shaft. “Turn it on, Kitty. Make yourself feel good.” 

She mewls long before she turns it on—and once she does, her chest arches towards me and her eyes flutter back. Her hips slowly find their rhythm as she begins to hump it, unsure at first before falling into its temptation. And then she’s loud, louder than the raging waterfall behind me, sprinkling me, and louder than me when I get to work and tug on my length. 

My noises bring her to me, but she doesn’t fix her gaze on mine—they pass down to my cock, her moans becoming needier, and she encourages me to join her. 

“Come on, Oppa, it feels so good.” 

I wade in a haze, spurred from her pleasure and now the title, unable to move my limbs. “Is it sucking on your clit?” 

She nods her head, stopping, but it brings forth more delight for her. She crumbles, her chest curving, and she saves herself from tumbling by propping her palm flat on the mattress, struggling—struggling to breathe, struggling to talk. 

“I—I’m not doing it if—if you’re not,” she stutters, her words melting into a whimper and I’m gone. 

It’s her energy, her desperation-fueled energy that pushes me to move my other limb and glide the mouth of the toy down my tip. She orders me to turn it on and I do, bending forward in the paralyzing pleasure it begins to give me. 

And it’s me who’s loud as it sucks on my head so vehemently that I, too, struggle. 

“Fuck, fuck—” I groan, lowering the toy down my length just in time for it to take the other direction, and I don’t moan any of her pet names. No, I moan out her name—and I make her come. 

My name breaks on her tongue and it is as my undoing as it is hers. I have to pull it out of me in order not to stop our playtime there, recuperating by watching her convulse while sitting on the toy as it completely traps her in the celestial realm of her orgasm. My cock twitches in the air, yearning to be inside her, and feel her walls spasm around it. I accept my death for the longevity of the bursting of her pleasure and I fall, I face-plant, drastically, for her. Deeper and deeper. 

No way back. 

“Good girl. So good. Oppa is proud of you.” 

She yelps, overstimulation grappling her, and I bite my lip so hard I break skin. She lifts her bum, quivering, and only when she catches her breath and begs me to come for her do I fuck the toy and chase down my own orgasm. 

And it doesn’t take long. Not when she topples onto the mattress and her face is what I come on while she, again, joins me, working her fingers on her clit out of my view. 

“You know I’m fucking you and not this toy,” I mutter, focusing the suction on my tip as I pound it. And when she moans my name and I hear the squelching of her hole, I throw the toy on the shelf beside my phone and use my hand to stain her face as if she were here with me, on her knees. 

My orgasm erupts and erupts, triggering hers, and we come together like this. Close, yet far away. Looking into each other’s eyes—never failing, never deteriorating, never diving into our past pains. 

Lightness blankets me and I feel as though I could fly and drift through this world without any burdens to bear on my back. Kitty looks well-spent and I suppose I reflect her all over again—and shall reflect her until my last dying day. 

I wipe my screen, my innermost craving still yet not satisfied, and I identify what it truly is. As she raises onto her knees, I lean against the shelf with my elbows and reveal it to her. 

“Let me see your pussy. Show me how wet you were for me.” 

She saw me up close, I didn’t.

It is only fair. 

She swears, enveloping her vulgarities around my name, and she obeys. Lies back down against her silky pillows and takes her phone between her legs, spreading them. She parts her wet folds with the two of her fingers and I salivate. Her clit is swollen and carmine from the intense sucking of the toy, glimmering in the faint light, her lips dripping and her hole squeezing around nothing. I wither in need, tasting blood on my lip, and when she runs all four of her fingers up her clit, I begin to heave. 

Hard, all over again. 

“Such a pretty pussy. Oppa misses it.” 

She purrs nonsense, as sleepy as she is, and the transfer back to reality is brutal. I check the time and it must be almost four AM in Seoul. I grieve the time zone between us, hoping the endeavor we shared was worth her staying up for me. 

“Good night, moon kitty. Sleep well.” 

She mumbles the same without omitting my newly deep-seated title. The three beautiful words for her form on my tongue, but I don’t say them. I save them for a better time, for the end of this tour, once I fly her to me. 

I watch her sleep for a little bit, my cock softening. Her hand is furled under her chin and I think about how she’s protecting my heart right in there. It doesn’t allow me to end the call, so I take a shower, place her on the sink when I dry myself off, on the table when I dress myself and turn my microphone off when I blow dry my hair. 

It is only when Jungkook knocks on my door and sloshes his sudden plan over me that I am forced to let her flow in her dreams without me and keep them undisturbed. 

What he tells me is my duty and I don’t hesitate to pocket my inconspicuous knife that carries too many bad memories. 

I thank him in my head that I get to wash those memories away with a different blood. 

What he tells me is this: “Come with me, hyung, we have a son of a bitch to mutilate.” 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 2 - The Future Is Now

18+ | 4.3k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | less miserable now and more typical, alcoholic, still needs reassurance Aegon | half sister reader - you're not really a maid anymore - I guess that means you got a promotion? P in V, smut, wholesome, fluff, this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

I've decided to take this story home and revisit some of the scenes from the show going forward. Because the more I looked back at them, the more I realized a lot of messed up shit happens in season 2 with Aegon that I don't personally like! Let it be known, I'm mostly using scenes from the show, but I'm also going to be mixing in a lot from the book from now on. So, it's going to come off like a weird amalgamation of show, book, and my own fiction thrown in there! So, here we're going to overhaul the small council meeting where Aemond makes a fool out of Aegon and we're going to bring it in line with something more like what they would have discussed if the show followed the battle plans from the book.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - The Future is Now Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made the above gif myself! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

-You “I find it highly unorthodox for you to keep your mistress as cupbearer, Aegon,” Alicent spoke up with clear distaste written upon her features as you filled her glass. You smile awkwardly in acknowledgment and she quickly diverts her eyes from you and onto the king. “We cannot trust one such as she with matters in need of the utmost secrecy.”

“I trust her more than I do any of you,” Aegon says nonplussed by his mother’s complaint. “I wish for her to be here and so she shall. Now back to more pressing matters.” He turned his sights towards Prince Aemond, gesturing for him to continue as he took a swig of wine from his cup. “Please continue with our efforts on the war front, Brother.”

Aemond sat perched like an owl in search of prey, one hand resting on the table while the other manipulated a golden coin effortlessly over the tops of his knuckles. The prince always held a slight smirk taut at the corners of his lips that unnerved you, holding back a viciousness that seemed barely restrained. He had his eye trained on you and it made the hair on the back of your neck prickle with discomfort. It was a relief when he met Aegon’s gaze and spoke.

“Ser Criston is marching on Rook’s Rest. The castle is small, weakly defended, and Lord Staunton sits on Rhaenyra’s council,” his words are deliberate and precisely executed as though he’d rehearsed the very words all morning in the mirror, yet you know that’s not the case.

“Whittling away at her morale seems a worthy effort indeed, “Aegon says with a devious grin. “And when Rhaenyra sends reinforcement, which she is sure to do… We’ll be lying in wait?”

You notice Lord Larys Strong’s brow raise in concern at the mention and soon the meaning washes over you as well. You quietly step towards Aegon, filling his cup and looking down at him anxiously as you try to swallow the lump that is forming in your throat. He does not return your worried stare, instead engaged deeply in the conversation with his brother, excitement written all over his face at the prospect of action.

“Precisely,” Aemond replies with cool clarity, his expression more serious now. “Cole will set the bait with his forces and Staunton will send word to Dragonstone for support. The only aid that might answer in time is a dragon and when it arrives, the trap will be sprung and we shall answer it with advantage on our side.”

“One less dragon to face later,” Aegon chuckles mirthfully, not taking the situation seriously at all. If you could, you would grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he snapped out of it and realized how dangerous this idea was.

“Surely we cannot risk losing our king on the field of battle?” Lord Strong finally speaks his dislike of the strategy out loud. “Would we not be handing the throne to our enemies?” You cannot help but feel relieved that he has voiced your fears, even if it wasn’t for your benefit.

The other members of the council all share glances with each other, neither Lannister, nor Orwyle, nor Ironrod willing to lend their thoughts. You take your place to the side of the long table, standing next to one of the newly appointed Kingsguard, regarding the scene with trepidation.

“I agree,” Alicent states with a growing look of concern. “What if you are both lost? Then who will rule?”

“You show such little confidence in our capabilities, Mother,” Aemond replies in a voice that sounds surprisingly sweet despite the venomous sarcasm that laces his words. “Surely encouragement would serve us better at this hour.”

Alicent’s eyes widen as he puts her on the spot. She quickly schools her expression, her lips flattening as she clenches her jaw briefly before speaking again. “Yes, of course, I wish you both well. But that does not change the potential losses we might suffer. Strategies do not always go as planned.”

“They do when you have dragons,” Aegon quips, still treating the war as though it were a game. You are glad to see his spirits improved since that very first time the two of you laid together, but could certainly do without the impetuousness he’s displaying at the moment.

“What if Rhaenyra sends more than one dragon?” Lord Strong poses the possibility to the king.

“It is highly unlikely,” Aemond interjects with a smug menace so intense that only the bravest of men might continue to argue. “Rhaenyra will no doubt be advised not to venture into battle herself and Daemon is presently holding down Harrenhal.”

“And no doubt she would be loathe to send another of her sons forth after what happened to the last,” the king concurs, letting out a derisive, pointed laugh. He runs his tongue along his teeth as though anticipating the taste of blood that will be spilled and relishing in it. “No other dragon yet tamed offers a significant challenge to the might of Vhagar and Sunfyre combined,” he adds, his eyes beaming with pride and superiority.

“Indeed,” Prince Aemond replies with barely curling lips, his eyes sharp as he regards his brother.

The Queen Dowager sighs, knowing she has lost this dispute and exchanges a despairing glance at Lord Strong. Your attention is drawn back to Aegon as he picks up his stone ball and places it in the large dish on the center of the table.

“We will leave when the second sun rises, then?” Aegon confirms to his brother who nods in return. It seems clear to you now that they have already spoken of this matter in private before even bringing it to the attention of the small council, and that it had already been decided upon.

The king steals a glance back towards you, nodding slightly in your direction as his eyes urge you to follow him. You eagerly oblige, anxious to have some words with him about his risky tactics in private. Aegon heads back to his chambers and you shadow him quietly as two of his Kingsguard take up the rear.

You almost can’t recognize the sweet and tender lover you’ve come to know so intimately. The sorrowful and lonely man you once comforted now replaced with a bloodthirsty warrior, a change you do not fully understand. Perhaps you are not fulfilling your duties as his companion well enough to satisfy the demons that haunt him, for he now seeks relief in brutality instead of you.

Aegon throws open the doors to his apartment and you are right behind him, closing them shut as you enter. He walks towards the table, not wasting any time in pouring a chalice of wine for himself. Bringing the cup to his lips, he takes a long swig before turning to face you.

“Alright then. Get on with it,” he says with mild annoyance. “I can already tell you are not pleased.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you say against your best judgment to quarrel with the king, but spurred by concern for him. “Any number of things might go wrong. I would prefer you stay here where it is safe in the keep. With me.”

He rolls his eyes with clear indifference to your worries, striding up to you confidently and running his knuckles softly against your cheek. “It will be fine,” he counters smoothly, his voice smooth like silk as he leans in to press a brief kiss against your lips. “We have the upper hand with two dragons, love.”

“Did you not ask me to sit in on your council meetings so that I might assist in offering you sincere and valid counsel?” you retort, hating his lackadaisical attitude towards the situation.

When he’d first requested you be his cupbearer, you had argued that you had no place in the chamber of the small council. Aegon had insisted though, stating he needed someone with a keen eye who was on his side for once. Now you wondered if he had even meant those words.

“Yes, but this is a matter of war, not court nor politics,” he replied with a scoff, turning and walking towards the center of the large room. “And you are just letting your womanly heart lead you.”

“Womanly heart?” you repeat, feeling your shoulders tighten at his cruel implication. “Or perhaps you must accept that war is not a child’s game,” your voice runs cold as anger grips you. “That a king has a responsibility to his people and not just to his own sense of glory.”

Aegon turns with a chuckle, regarding you snidely. This condescension actually bothers you more than the fury you expected from him. “Tis not glory I seek, but the alleviation of my boredom,” he says plainly and there’s an apathy in his voice that makes your chest ache.

“Am I not enough to keep you engaged?” you ask quietly, feeling your wrath fade into pain.

The king’s smile falters, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as you speak. He hesitates a moment before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “Love…” he murmurs, sounding a bit repentant now. “It has nothing to do with you. I simply feel… constrained in this city. While everyone else fights to retain my crown, I am expected to stay here and be idle. I wish to prove myself.”

He closes the distance between you both, his violet eyes piercing into yours. Aegon reaches out to cradle your face, his touch gentle and his demeanor much warmer now. “I know that you worry for me,” he says, his voice tender as he rests his forehead against yours. “But I cannot lead my army from behind these castle walls. I trust you understand?”

“You didn’t have to be so cruel,” your voice is a whisper as you try to hold back the desire to cry. “Treating me as though I matter not to you.”

Aegon tugs you closer towards him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. He lets out another weary exhale, seemingly releasing all of the tension that had held him taut moments prior. “I didn’t mean to be a bastard to you, my darling,” he says, voice heavy with remorse.

“You are not my enemy,” he adds, leaning back slightly to kiss your golden crown of hair. “There are whispers afoot within the Red Keep, they abound in the city as well. The people all speak of my cowardice. How I have usurped the throne and now hide in my castle, afraid to face the might of the true heir’s forces. I find myself on edge.”

“You might have told me this sooner,” you reply, shifting your head to peer up at him. “I am here for you, my king, and you alone. If you cannot confess such tensions to me, than they will only serve to devour you whole. I am not here to judge, but to listen, to offer support.”

“Such habits are not easy to break,” Aegon says with a flicker of shame adorning his features. “I have been ridiculed my entire life and it has made me averse to showing weakness.”

“But you revealed yourself to me and it brought us together,” you argue his absurd logic. “Do not hide from me. Ever.” Your hands slide across his chest, moving upwards until your fingers dance delicately across the line of his jaw.

Aegon lets out a shaky breath, his body easing under your gentle touch. “What is it about you, love?” he asks closing his eyes as your hand rakes back into his hair. “You always manage to disarm me so completely, breaking down the fortress I’ve spent a lifetime erecting.”

He opens his eyes and smiles at you with amusement. “Very well then. I will not distance myself from you, or at least I shall try not to. But I still intend to join Aemond and fight. Can you stand to watch me go?”

Your grip tightens slightly in his hair at the mention of the battle. You had hoped you could sway him to stay, but it is clear now that he will not listen. The king was dead set on clearing his name, on making his constituents believe that he truly deserved his seat on the Iron Throne.

“You must promise me that you will be careful,” you plead with him, knowing deep down that such a request was impossible to accommodate in war. “Do not take any unnecessary risks.”

“That shouldn’t be hard to accomplish from the back of a dragon, my darling,” Aegon lets out a small laugh, resting his hands on your hips. “But I will do my best and I have no intention of dying at Rook’s Rest.”

You lean up to kiss him once more as your hands wrap around his back, clinging fiercely. His lips are hot and wet and so alive with passion as he hungrily returns the embrace. You cannot help the gnawing feeling beginning to coalesce in your gut, that something horrible is going to happen to him. Each press of your lips against his echoing your desperation and the fear that he might not return to you.

He walks you back to the table and plucks you up, placing your bottom on the hard surface. His hands work at bunching up your skirts, lifting and pushing them aside so he has access to you. His hands slide up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistline of your smallclothes and pulling them down. He doesn’t waste any time in spreading your thighs apart with his knee, stepping closer until you can feel just how much he wants you.

“I’ll return to you, love,” he says breathlessly between kisses against your jaw. Aegon urgently unties his breeches as he continues, “Nothing could keep me from you.”

His lips crash into yours, devouring your mouth with intensity as he grinds against you, making you weak in your desire for him. Withdrawing from your mouth, he peppers kisses down your neck, and along your décolletage before letting out a gasping groan of lust.

Pulling you to the edge of the table, his purple eyes appear black with arousal as they lock onto yours. He slides into your wet slickness in one fluid motion, filling you completely. Aegon leans forward again, his face buried in your neck as he grasps onto your hips and moves into you with a desperate frenzy.

His lips nibble against your lobe as he whispers raggedly in your ear, “You will be waiting for me when I return, won’t you?” his words almost sounding insecure. “Tell me you love me. Tell me you need me. I must hear you say it.”

You are powerless to your king’s wishes, especially when he is fucking you so well. “I love you,” you say panting as his throbbing cock invades your wanting cunny. “I need you.”

Aegon groans loudly at the sound of your voice, the table quaking as he increases his pace, his hips snapping forward and driving into you harder, deeper. He is relentless in his efforts, pounding into your core with an urgency you’ve never experienced before. “Say it again,” he demands, his breaths short and heavy. “Again…” he growls as he buries himself within you, his grip on your hips bruising as he holds you steady.

It is hard to concentrate, let alone ponder the king’s strange choice of dirty talk, but Aegon’s vulnerability has always drawn you to him. It seemed mixing physical and emotional release at the same time was becoming quite commonplace for you both and you could not deny how therapeutic it felt for you either, to give of yourself and receive his devotion in return. Even if you had not been together for very long, you were sure that your attraction to Aegon was not simply fueled by sexual pleasure alone.

“I love you, Aegon,” you repeat, breathless and gasping as he chases his high within you.

He moans your name, a pained sound as he leans back and takes in your expression. “Make me believe it,” he pleads, pressing wet kisses against your face as he punctuates each spoken word with a particularly hard thrust.

“Gods, Aegon!” you cry out, feeling your peak near as his pelvis rolls mercilessly against your pearl. Each deep invasion paired with a ruthless grinding motion that makes your toes curl. “I-I do…” you confess with shaky breaths. “I have since I came into your service.”

“You what? I need to hear you say it,” he prompts you yet again, searching always for reassurance in you. “Let me taste the truth in your words,” his voice is ragged as he beseeches you.

Your hands that had been braced on the edge of the table, now find his hips and grasp firmly. The motion of your bodies like waves on the ocean, and it is not long before the familiar feeling of completion spreads through your inner walls. He immediately devours your lips in a desperate kiss. It’s tender and passionate at the same time, making you forget every rational thought or worry that you had.

Against his lips you reaffirm your adoration, your voice rough as you speak your convictions, “I love you, Aegon… Only you make me feel whole.”

A grunt breaks from the back of Aegon’s throat as he buries himself completely inside you, prodding against the tender entrance to your womb. His length swells as he spills his seed within you, his body twitching as he moves to wrap his arms around you.

Aegon collapses against you for a time, capturing his breath as you leave hungry kisses all along his neck and shoulder. You make a startled sound of shock when he suddenly pulls you off the table. His hands slip under your bottom, urging your thighs around his waist and you cling to him dearly making sure you don’t fall.

He holds you tightly in his arms and moves to the large velvet couch against the wall, flopping down on it and pulling you into his lap. Aegon cups his hand behind your head, pulling you close until he is all you can see, his violet eyes fixed on you.

“I don’t believe I’ve said it as much as I should,” his voice is low and quiet. “But I love you as well.”

Your expression softens from one of lusty playfulness to something more sincere at his heartfelt words. It was true, he hadn’t often, if ever, acknowledged his direct feelings towards you, but you’d still known that he cared. It was plain to see that needed you, even if he didn’t always admit it.

“I will come back to you, I swear it…” he says with a knowing smirk, reading the affection in your tender eyes. “And when I do, I intend to you make you mine forever.”

“How?” you ask quirking a brow in confusion, the haze of your orgasm still lingering.

“By wedding you, of course,” Aegon replies, as though it is the most obvious answer in the world. “I will take you as my second wife. There is no rule that states I cannot. Besides, it might be seen as disrespectful to my namesake if I did not follow in his footsteps.” His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he regards you with a dreamy look, as though imagining a future where you are his wife.

“Do you think it prudent to cause an uproar with such a controversy?” you say with a look of worry deepening your brow. “With the civil war? With the food shortages? As you said, there are already whispers among the people. Should we give them more to talk about?”

Aegon releases a heavy sigh, a look of displeasure crossing his face as his jaw clenches. You continue before he can get too upset.

“I am overjoyed that you’d have me as your wife, my love.. But I am also concerned. Perhaps we could have a private ceremony? Keep it secret until the war has passed?” You run you fingers gently from his forehead down his temple until your palm is resting on his cheek.

“Why should I keep you a secret!?” he asks petulantly. “My wife, Queen Helaena, sits in her rooms all day, crying and speaking to herself. I cannot blame her for the pain she has suffered, sadly, she was quite fragile to begin with… But as it stands, she is no queen. The people could do with a figurehead, someone to follow, to reassure them that everything is alright in these trying and uncertain times. I have never been adept at such persuasions, but you… You would be wonderful in that role. It is how a queen should behave.”

You shake your head and let out an exasperated breath. “Be that as it may. You seem to forget that I am not a noble. The people will not accept it.”

“And you forget that I am king,” Aegon replies with a shrug. “In fact, I will fix this issue before I leave for Rook’s Rest.” He gently places you to his side, setting you onto the plush cushions. You watch dumbfound as Aegon gets up from the couch and ties the laces of his breeches absentmindedly as he crosses the room to his desk. He takes out a piece of paper, a quill, some ink, and begins to write.

“What are you doing?” you ask with furled brows as you make your way over to him, impossibly curious to know what he is up to.

“I’m writing a decree,” he says, not looking up from his parchment. “It is not unheard of for nobles to petition the king to legitimize their offspring. Given you are my father’s daughter, that would elevate you to a Targaryen princess, with all the rights and privileges the title entails.” Aegon finished writing and signed the paper with a flourish. As he blew on the ink, impatient for it to dry, he added, “I think a princess would be considered more than suitable for a king, don’t you?”

You are dumbstruck at the precise and confident way he asserts such a complicated matter as concluded. “Is such a thing possible? Truly?”

“It’s as good as done,” Aegon says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is likely for the best that I take care of the issue before I leave for battle. I would not wish for my mother to think she had any say when it comes to your well being in my absence.

He examines the parchment, making sure that the ink has set and then carefully folds it. You watch as he melts a chunk of red wax and presses his seal into it, sealing the decree and placing it aside on his desk.

“There, the matter is resolved,” he says with a satisfied smile as he pulls you down into his lap. “Now what are you going to do while I’m away?” he asks softly. “Without your king to serve?”

“You might still change your mind and stay here with me so that I do not wither away from loneliness,” you riposte with a slight puff in your cheeks as your lips purse.

The king lets out a laugh, shaking raising a finger to your mouth to shush you. “You are incorrigible,” he purrs fondly, placing a kiss upon your pouting lips. “You know I must go, love. I need to prove it to Mother, to the council, to the people… Hells, even to myself that I am worthy of the crown.” He looks at you earnestly, his eyes searching yours as though trying to convince himself that he’s right in this. “But, I will miss you terribly. More than you could possibly know.”

“What will I even do without you?” Leaning in you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, letting your nose nuzzle against his skin. You sit back in his lap more, fixing his hair by tucking it behind his ears dotingly. “Everyone treats me even more coldly now that we are together so openly. They all turn their backs to me as though I’m invisible,” you say sadly. Even though he is not due to leave for another day and night, you feel as though you miss him already.

Aegon’s arms tighten around you possessively, his hand caressing your back. “When you are queen they won’t dare turn their backs to you,” his voice was low and gravelly. “They will bow and scrape at your feet , and if they don’t…” he trails off, leaving the threat hanging the air.

“Ah yes,” you say with a morose chuckle. “There is nothing more civil then the threat of a noose.”

He laughs wholeheartedly at your jest, his eyes beaming with affection. “You worry too much,” he says with a warmth written in his expression. “There is only one matter left unresolved as far as I’m concerned.” Aegon looked you over with an almost stern gaze, sizing you up.

“And what is that, my love?” you ask with a curious glint in your eye.

“You haven’t said yes yet,” he says with a smooth grin, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “Will you be my wife?”

You gaze into his eyes, a happiness building in your chest as you realize the levity of this moment. You’re not sure if it’s the right choice to make in terms of harming his reign as king, but deep down you know there is only one answer you could ever give him.

“Yes,” you reply with a humble smile, your eyes threatening tears as you lean in and taste the lips of your lover, your future husband if the Gods so willed it.

Read Chapter 3

[causenessus]

new grounds

part 0.1. COW MUG . . . 11.25.2023

PLAYING IN THE CAFE . . . this charming man by the smiths

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

while trying to make this chapter an even number of pictures, i accidentally developed an entire subplot about mugs...i hope it didn't drag on for too long

the cafe is notorious for it's unique and one of a kind mugs

one night when yachi and keiji were bored out of their minds they began developing "laws" for some of the mugs like only using this one mug that says "✨ hello autumn ✨" for middle-aged white moms and their sugar free white mochas

the live laugh love mug is now reserved for karens

tree trunk mugs are reserved for people who come in wearing flannels

reference photos for the group's mug choices in order of reference:

akaashi likes his capybara mug because when he uses it people like to say "oh what's your mug? a barrel?" and he puts down his mug and goes, "no, it's a capybara." and they think he's being sarcastic until he puts a literal capybara on top of the mug

bokuto continues to secretly live out his life as a pretty fairy with his pretty cottagecore mug

yn and yachi liked how silly their mugs looked

akaashi said "which one" to yachi because yes they have more than one alien mug

one of them they bought for the shop because yachi was messing around with ai art once and the ai could not create an image of a normal alien so she got it printed onto a mug to use at the cafe

kageyama came around to help with some of the laws as they made them up

yn keeps referring to kageyama as "the guy" because she doesn't actually know his name. yachi tried to introduce them but she completely disassociated the entire time

taglist: @ncitygreen @lvrlamp @cherrypieyourface @mimi3lover @lees-chaotic-brain @frootloopscos @0moonii @cr4yolaas (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[letstevengrantsleep]

Part Three

Previous part / Next part

Eddie Munson x reader slow burn

part summary: heated words are exchanged between you and Jake, big decisions are made, and bonds are broken

word count: 1,145

warnings: toxic horrid relationship, smacking (just the one, to the face, in the heat of the moment), swearing, ANGST

a/n: This chapter is kinda heavy so please be aware of that before you read it. I've got a humble little taglist going too so lemmie know if you want to be added to it okay thanks byeee xoxo

main masterlist series masterlist

Your heart is pounding in your chest so hard you can feel it in your throat, following Jake to your meeting spot as the dread seeps in. He's gone silent, the tension in the air palpable as he stops abruptly to huff and practically slams himself down onto a park bench.

"What's going on, Jake?" You ask, knowing full well that it's a ridiculous question. You know what's up, you just don't want to admit it yet.

"I thought I was clear on the phone about how much last night upset me."

You want to roll your eyes, tell him he's being ridiculous and to get over himself, but something holds you back.

"I can't help it if I bump into people on the street, Jake." You really do try to keep your tone neutral but there's an edge of bitterness that seeps through the seems, soaking your words as they leave your mouth.

"No. But you have full control over whether you stop and have a fucking conversation with them," your name leaves Jake's mouth and it's sharp, harsh. It sounds completely unlike any way he's ever said your name before. It makes you recoil slightly, pulling a face at his words.

"You're overreacting." Sighing, you run your hands through your hair in frustration, "we've literally known each other less than twenty four hours, you have nothing to worry about here."

It sounds unconvincing, and honestly you're not even trying to make your words sound any different. What's the point? He's only going to accuse you of lying anyway.

"This is a fucking joke," he groans, voice rising, "I feel like I'm loosing you." His hand comes up to touch your face and it's involuntary, the way that you flinch back before he makes contact. You don't think he notices. "It used to be just me and you against the world, baby. Now it's like there's all these people in your head, everyone except me."

Oh God.

You can taste acid at the back of your throat, and you're convinced it's been brought on by this sudden show of affection from your boyfriend. You're not used to it anymore.

"Jake." You warn, pulling away.

"See?" His voice raises again, drawing attention from a few passers by. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. "I can't even touch you anymore. What's up with that?" There's that anger in his eyes again, glazed over like a bull seeing red.

All you can do is stare at him, not even knowing where to start with that line of conversation. There are so many reasons why you pulled away, where do you even start?

Fuck it.

"Do you think maybe if you hadn't ditched me for your friends last night then maybe I wouldn't have spoken to Eddie at all?" There's an edge to your tone but you're calm, way calmer than he is.

"The fuck you just say to me?"

"You heard me, Jake."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now." He snaps.

That makes you laugh, really laugh. "Right," you nod, "because it only suits you to hash things out if you think I'm in the wrong, yeah?"

"Shut up," he grinds out your name through gritted teeth.

"No,” you shake your head, "actually I think I'll carry on. While we're at it, in fact, let's talk about other noted absences."

"Shut it-"

"-what about the time you left me for four hours to go speak to a 'friend' while we were at my graduation?"

"I mean it, stop-"

"-or the time you forgot to pick me up from the station after I'd been to visit my dying grandma, alone-"

"No."

"Or every time we go to Steve's an you leave me to go 'swim' for hours when you're actually-"

SMACK.

Silence.

The sound came before the sting, and it takes you a second to catch up with what's actually happened. Instinctively, your hand comes up to grasp at your cheek, eyes stinging with tears not through sadness or fear but because of the impact. Your heart is in your throat again but this time in pure fucking rage. Who the fuck does he think he is?

Jake says your name. Sheepishly. Quiet. His hand is coming up to meet yours but you move back, shaking your head.

"We're done." Is all you say. Voice stoic, mind made up.

"No, you're not doing this to me." Jake's stubborn, but so are you.

"Jake you just fucking hit me in a public park. We. Are. Done." You accentuate every word, making sure he understands how grave a mistake he has just made.

He says your name again, firmer this time. "We're not breaking up."

"Yes we are, Jake. You made that decision for us."

-

You're not even sure how you made it back home without a fight, dodging the main street in favour of side streets as the sting on your cheek got more and more aggressive. As you close the door you take a second to compose yourself, the silence of your home a stark contrast to the chaos of the park.

Taking a deep breath, you push yourself off the wall and make your way to the bathroom, your steps heavy and uncertain. The light flicks on after a moment and you brace yourself as you look in the mirror. There's no emotion on your face, you can't even bring yourself to look surprised as you glance at the deep bruise forming on your cheek.

Turning on the cold water you splash your face in an attempt to sooth the ache. As the water drips down onto your chin you look back at your reflection. The face staring back at you is angry, determined. This isn't about the bruise, this is about the betrayal. The broken trust and the realization that something had to give.

You take a deep breath, shaking out your limbs as you straighten your posture, stretching your neck with closed eyes. Somewhere in that bathroom you find a new sense of resolve, the determination not to take any more backwards steps.

The phone sits, quiet on the shoddy side table, and as you take a seat next to the window you catch it in your peripheral. For a moment you sit there, debating whether it's worth the trouble. If picking up the phone and calling someone is worth all the inevitable questions. Paralyzed, you mull it over a thousand times, each with a different outcome, before ultimately deciding that you're going to have to explain eventually, so why not now?

You grab the receiver, punch a series of numbers into the square number pad and hold it to your ear.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"

"Hiya, it's me." A beat while the person on the other end responds, "yeah, something's happened. Can I come over?"

Taglist:

@sapphire4082 @twirls827 @bewr0210

[nolita-fairytale]

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: the honeymoon pt. 1

summary: the infinite undressing and undoing of mrs. berzatto -- or how you and carmy spend your mini-moon at the langham hotel.

warnings: so much smut so this chapter is 18+ only!! also the smut is from carmys pov and im shaking!! husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 4.9k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist

a/n: surprise! i decided to split the honeymoon into two chapters because it was getting way too long and i refuse to cut any of it so there's that.

on another note: this series, this world, is so special to me because it is my first: first series on tumblr, first series for carmy, first time writing fanfic again as an adult that i actually followed through with. it was the universe that got me through unemployment. the fic that helped me fall in love with writing again, so i will always hold this world near and dear to my heart. but aside from occasional one shots here and there, it may be time to let them ride off into the sunset, into their happily ever after. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part three | masterlist | part five

Before he can even get the door properly closed, you’re all over him, your mouth covering his own with kisses that feel like promises, as your hands multi-task, fumbling with the door to get in closed the rest of the way. 

“As much as I loved celebrating with our friends and family, I’ve been waiting for this moment all damn day,” you say, in between kisses, satisfied as soon as you hear the clicking sound of the door locking. 

“Hmmm and what’s that?” Carmy asks you, coyly. 

His lips curve into a cocky smile mid-kiss, and he hears you chuckle, knowing exactly what buttons to push to wind you up.

“Getting you alone, Mr. Berzatto,” you giggle underneath your breath, taking a few steps away from him. 

Carmy watches you in awe, his eyes traveling from your kiss-swollen lips, to the way your hands begin to trail down your body, to the careful steps that you take backwards. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches your fingers delicately undo the first button on this goddamn blazer dress he thinks he’ll never be able to get out of his mind – not after tonight, that’s for sure. He watches them dance over the second button from the top down, peeling it open, as a bright pop of red begins to peek out from underneath your dress. 

“Carm?” you ask him, your eyes flickering down to your hands as you undo the third button, then the fourth, before returning your heated gaze to him. 

“Yes, baby,” is all he can reply, as if he’s under your spell already. 

Carmy gulps, his pants feeling incredibly tight, the air noticeably thick as he watches your little strip tease. 

It’s just a few more buttons before your dress falls open, revealing the crimson red set you’re wearing underneath. 

Red Floral Lace. Mesh. See-through. 

“Come get me,” you beckon, as you let the dress fall to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he growls on an exhale, before charging towards you. 

It’s all hot, all-consuming kisses as he pushes you back onto the California king-sized bed, eagerly following as he lays his body on top of yours. Long gone is the sport coat he was wearing earlier, and he thanks whatever deities he may owe this to that he really only has to get three articles of clothing off. 

Carmy pulls away, because he’s gotta get one goddamn good look at his wife. 

His wife. 

His breath picks up, as he drags his fingertips over the straps of your red lace bra, down to the mesh cups, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers run over your already-perky nipples. 

“You like?” you ask him, a small amount of vulnerability in your voice as you do. 

“Do I-, baby, have you seen yourself?” he stammers, in disbelief that you could even ask, only to be met with a smirk because you know you look good. 

But that’s not what you’re asking. You want to know if Carmy likes it, because you have much more where this came from – lingerie, you mean. And instead of telling you, Carmy has bigger and better plans to show you instead. He begins to leave hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, across your chest, nipping at the top of the bra cup with his teeth when he gets there. 

Carmy’s eyes move to yours, watching you for a reaction so he knows that he’s giving you exactly what you want. To his delight, you hiss in pleasure, arching your back as an invitation, offering your body to him in a silent effort, begging for more. 

“This why you put on this dress?” he rasps, in reference to the fact that you had insisted on doing an outfit change from the courthouse to the reception. His tongue snakes out, running over the mesh fabric that barely covers the nipple of your left breast. 

You moan, letting out a small giggle in between breaths, as you cook up a witty reply.

“‘S not like I could wear anything underneath my wedding dress. Had to come up with a plan B,” you counter him, just another part of your seduction. 

Carmy lets out a well earned-groan and it’s music to your ears as he continues to move down your body, worshiping you with his mouth, his tongue, muttering to himself that he’s not sure whether he would’ve preferred that – you in your wedding dress, nothing underneath – or this, all fire and lace. 

But he doesn’t have time to think, settling on the fact that as long as he gets to have you, he’s not sure he cares. 

“This is so fucking sexy, baby,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He almost forgets to breathe for a moment, as it dawns on him that you’re his, and that you’re here, all spread out for him tonight, aching for him and only him. 

Before you can get in a word, he’s pushing your legs apart, settling down in between them to get exactly what he wants. You let out a gasp of surprise, considering he hasn’t taken off our panties, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls them to one side instead. 

“Fuck,” he hears you whine, as he buries his face between your thighs. “Oh my god, Carmy.” 

His favorite thing.

Tasting you. Bringing you the kind of euphoric pleasure that makes you feel high.

 He loves the way you say his name, and how it changes, when his tongue traces tight circles around your clit; how it changes when he flattens his tongue up against your wet heat, painting broad strokes; how you cry out when he’s busy tracing abstract shapes across you till you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. Carmy moans against you, as he feels you thread your hands through his golden locks, and the sensation of your fingertips running along his scalp goes straight to his cock. 

“Carmy, don’t stop!” 

And how could he? How could he deny you the one thing you’re asking for? His mouth on you, bringing you higher and higher, winding up that coil buried so deep inside you that it has to explode, knowing that it’s him and only him that makes you feel this way. 

You’re pulling at his hair, grabbing at the bedsheets, bucking your hips up into his mouth, writhing underneath the weight of his hands that hold you in place. He can’t keep his hands off of you, desperate to feel the way your body responds to him at every touch – holding your hips down, pressing your legs wider, grabbing at your breasts as he dips his tongue inside of you. 

“Oh my God. Carmy, fuck. Don’tstoppleasedon’tstopdon’tyoudare-!” 

The feeling of your orgasm ripping through you completely rendering you speechless as you come. Carmy slows down the movements of his mouth, working you through your orgasm, wanting you to know that he’s here for you, that he’s got you as you come down. He uses his tongue to clean you up, watching you carefully as you try your best to catch your breath, committing this image to his memory. 

There are two places he feels like this – triumphant, untouchable, on top of the world – in the last push of a hard won dinner service, and when he’s right here, between your legs, in the falling action of your climax as he waits for you to come back to him. 

Carmy waits for you, watches as your eyes begin to flutter open, your breath still heavy, as you look down on him. 

“Shit. Who knew married sex would hit so differently,” you pant, let out an incredulous laugh from how hard you just came. 

Carmy grins up at you, and he loves the way it feels as you pull him towards you once more. Your hands are desperate, needy, impatient as they tear through the buttons on his shirt, practically dragging the top over his head and tossing it onto the floor with a vigor he knows only comes from how much you need him. 

“You good, baby?” he asks, cockily, because after years of this, he thinks he’s earned the right to know just how good he always makes you feel. 

“Just need you, Carm,” you rasp, propping yourself up so that you can chase his mouth with yours. “Need you so much. Need you inside of me.” 

“I know, sweet girl. I-,” he begins to say, before freezing, as if there’s an alarm going off in his head, his voice full this time as he swears, as if he’s just forgotten a really important date:

“Ffffffffffffffffuck.”

“Everything okay?” you ask, sitting up this time in response to his sobering pitch.

Carmy can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he flushes red, completely embarrassed that he’s put the heat of the moment on pause for this, knowing fully that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it now. 

“Yeah just I just gotta-... give me like… five seconds. I promise,” he nods, though his eyes silently plead with you. 

You shake your head as Carmy leaves you, his footsteps rapid and hurried as he practically sprints over to where you left the suitcases in the hallway. He swears underneath his breath, rummaging through his bag before finding a certain plastic tupperware, a feeling of relief washing over him. He can hear you laugh as he runs through the room, tucking it safely in the mini fridge, and he can only imagine that it’s quite the sight to see.

By the time he returns to the bed, cheeks flushed, and an apologetic look in his eyes, you’re sitting up on your knees, waiting for him with an amused look on your face. 

“Do I want to know?” you ask, skeptically.

“You’ll thank me later,” he chuckles, still embarrassed. Shyly, as he steps towards the edge of the bed, he works up the nerve to ask, “Will you uh.. Think we can pick up where we left off?”

Still stunning as you were moments ago but now with that post-orgasm glow, you wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck, pulling him in closer so that he’s standing across from where you kneel. 

“You can come back to bed. But lose the pants, jerk,” you reply, feigning disapproval. 

He nods, eagerly taking off his pants as he joins you back on the bed in only his briefs. 

Carmy’s intent on making it up to you, his mouth back on yours as soon as possible, lowering you to the bed as his hands grope at any exposed flesh he can. He’s dragging the straps of the red bra down, but refuses to take it off completely. Keep it on, he insists, because he can’t get the image of you riding him in it out of his mind. It’s not till he’s tearing your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor that you know he really means business this time. 

“No more interruptions,” he promises you, as he settles in between your legs, his briefs long gone and his hard, aching cock desperate to feel you. 

As Carmy presses into you, reeling over the fact that every time feels like the first – it’s that glorious, that wondrous – you know, without all the trauma of your actual first time. You’re all tight, wet, heat pulsing around him and for once, he doesn’t have to think for a moment. 

Carmy’s always been a thinker – an overthinker, really, calculating each and every move with strategy – rarely ever a doer because that’s just not who he got to be. But with you, inside of you, it’s all instinct, and breath, and I love yous, both in pursuit of your shared pleasure. In these moments, he gets to be a doer, responding to your every moan, taking the lead when he knows what will set you off, showing you just how much you turn him on with every kiss, every touch, every thrust. 

It doesn’t take long for you to push him onto his back, reminding him that he has some making up to do for the earlier coitus interuptus and that he should let you fuck him instead.

But as you climb on top of him, turning around so that your back is to him, he swallows, admiring the view you’re so intent on giving him. He can picture it clearly, exactly – your head thrown back, biting down on your bottom lip, brow furrowed as you sink down onto him – even though he can’t see your face. 

Instead, he listens to the way you whimper his name as you begin to move your hips, traces the curves of your body as you settle into a satisfying rhythm, digs the pads of his fingers into your hips and your ass because he just can’t not touch. 

It’s music to his ears as you let out a keen-like moan when he begins to meet your hips with thrusts of his own, speeding up the perfect rhythm you’ve set. He can feel you squeezing around him, chasing your own high as you fuck yourself on him, and he can feel that familiar tightening at the bottom of his belly. 

“Fuck,” he grits out, his jaw tightening as he can feel it coming. 

All it would take was a few more thrusts, a vigorous pace, take hold of your hips and showing you just how he wants it. But instead, Carmy sits half way up, reaching out for you as he stills your hips against his. His movement causes you to shift as you realize he’s sitting all the way up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the new angle causing you to squeeze around him.

“Baby,” you whine, beginning to grind your hips in circles where you’re connected.

“I wanna see you. I wanna see you cum again,” he requests, his voice tender yet intent, as if he plans on embedding the words into your skin. And as he leaves little kisses against your shoulder blade, his words go straight to your heart. 

“Okay,” you agree with a soft whisper. 

Carmy sits back just enough to let you switch positions, before propping himself up on both hands that rest behind him. With the softest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, you climb back onto his lap. Grabbing the back of your head, he pulls you to him, kissing you like he wants to give you the world and then some. Your hands smooth over his strong shoulders and inked arms, then you’re reaching down between the two of you, guiding him back into you as you take him once more. 

He swears his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels you again, beginning to move your hips in perfect harmony together. This new position is passionate, intense, intimate. Your hands are cradling the back of his head, kissing him like he is oxygen, as he surrenders to you, to the moment, to the dance between you.

“I like this,” Carmy finally says, as he notices the way the straps of your bra hang loosely off your shoulders. 

“Me on top of you?” you smile, devilishly. 

“This,” he repeats, his eyes hungrily taking in the image of you on top of him in this sexy lace little thing, as he toys with the red elastic. “But that too.”

You grin before pressing your lips against his once more, because he truly has no idea what else you have in store for him. 

“Feel so good, sweet girl,” Carmy grunts out, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, sloppier as the feeling returns. “You feel so good.” 

You throw your head back in a moan, and he knows you’re letting him set the pace. He’s so goddamn close to cumming, as the two of you chase both of your highs this time. 

“I love you, Carmy,” he hears you whine, your head leaning against his shoulder. “So much. I love you, baby.”

He can feel it – feel you – and he knows you’re close. 

“I love you,” he manages to get out, in between a clenched jaw. 

His hips stutter, and you’re tightening around him, losing all control, surrendering to your release as you cry out. Watching you come undone around him, feeling you contract and release around him, calling out his name till your voice is hoarse is what brings him there with you. Carmy continues to fuck up into you, filling you, as his hands begin to slow down the pace of your hips.

You’re magic to him – somehow just as and more electrifying as the day he met you, the day you told him you loved him, and today, the day you both said, “I do.” 

“I think you’re right,” is what he says, in between pants, finally breaking the tension. “Married sex is a whole ‘nother level.”

“Cheers, Mrs. Berzatto,” Carmy toasts to you. 

“And a cheers to you too, Mr. Berzatto,” you reply, clinking your champagne flute with his before drinking. 

After coming back to reality – recovering from your joint discovery of just how damn good married sex is – you and Carmy spent a few more precious moments in each others’ arms, sharing languid kisses and whispered words. And after cleaning up, you both came to an agreement that if this weekend is anything like how it started, you will absolutely be in need of fuel – Carmy encouraging you to order a few things for room service off the hotel’s late night menu. 

So here you are, drinking clinking glasses of fancy champagne over overpriced burgers and truffle fries, as you begin a new journey with your husband, thinking to yourself that there’s no other way you’d want this to be. Wrapped up in his Ralph Lauren Oxford shirt that you’d gleefully pulled out of his suitcase after your quick rinse off in the shower, Carmy’s got one of those looks of deep admiration in his eyes while he listens to you you wax philosophical about something or other. 

It’s not that he’s not listening – it’s just that he cannot get over the fact that you made it here – something his twenty-five year old self probably never would’ve believed. 

“Any chance you’re still hungry?” Carmy asks, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watches you polish off the last bite of your burger. 

“Actually, yeah. Someone wore me out,” you answer cheekily, with a flirtatious shrug. 

He smiles, “Good. Stay right here.”

As you watch Carmy jump off of the bed, beelining for the minifridge to retrieve whatever he put in it earlier, you note that it’s the second time that he’s left you tonight whatever the hell it is he’s keeping in that goddamn plastic tupperware. With an arched eyebrow, you ask:

“Watcha got over there?” 

Carmy climbs back onto the bed, kneeling as he offers the square-shaped box to you, careful not to knock anything over on your shared room service tray. He begins to peel back the plastic lid, pulling it away from the storage container, earning a well-won sound of surprise from you as you realize exactly what it is. 

“Tiramisu?” you gasp, completely moved by your husband’s gesture. “Carm, when the hell did you have time to make this?”

He gives you nothing but a boyish shrug, before gathering your two unused spoons that came with the silverware sets that room service brought up with your late night dinner. 

“Had a little extra time at the restaurant this week,” is all he says, which you know is a lie. 

You send a skeptical look his way, because rarely does he ever have extra time at the restaurant where he’s just hanging around. Sure, a tiramisu isn’t wildly difficult to make, but it’s been off of The Bear’s menu for years now.

And you should know. You’re the one who put it on there in the first place. 

“Thought you didn’t bake,” you challenge him, as you pick up one of the spoons off of the room service tray.  

“Yeah ‘s about the only thing I can do… considering it requires little to no baking at all,” he shoots back, picking up his spoon as well. 

With no hesitation of being first, you dig your spoon into the soft cocoa powder covered cream and espresso soaked lady finger dessert, before raising your spoon to your lips for a first bite. 

“Ohhhh, baby…” you practically moan, your eyes closed as you throw your head back in pure bliss. 

Carmy snorts with laughter, but he’s satisfied with your reaction, knowing that he did a damn good job with it. 

“Would you two like to be alone?” Carmy teases you, pointing his spoon to the tiramisu then back to you. “Thought this was our honeymoon.” 

You lift your head, rolling your eyes playfully, before going back for seconds, “Don’t be jealous. You’re still the only one making me moan like that.”

And suddenly, the room feels about five degrees hotter, as Carmy feels heat rise to his cheeks. But he’s not quite ready to go there again, just yet, so instead he just explains:

“I know we both promised we wouldn’t do any of the food today, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to show you how much I love you in the only way I know how.” 

“It’s not the only way,” you tease him with a smirk, as he shakes his head incredulously. 

You can tell you’ve made him blush, which is only a little bit funny considering the dirty things that came out of his mouth barely an hour ago. But the silver lining is this, and it’s not lost on you: after all this time and all of these years, it’s good to know that on your wedding day, you still know how to flirt with your husband. 

Carmy’s eyes are fixed to the tiramisu as he focuses on digging his own spoon into the tiramisu, inhaling the spoonful right away. 

Damn. It is good, he thinks to himself, though he’s usually quite hesitant to give himself a compliment. 

“So what were you and Sugar talking about?” Carmy asks, curiously changing the subject. 

“Oof. You really wanna kill the mood with that answer?” you counter him, and he can hear the reality of the situation in the way your voice drops. 

“That bad?” he pries, hesitantly. 

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. While you’re not sure you want to ruin a perfect night by talking about Donna, you also feel like there’s no escaping it either. “Sugar and I’s talk was great but… she was upset… about your mom not coming.”

With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Carmy nods along, only slightly disappointed by the answer. 

Leave it to Mom to ruin a perfectly good day without even showing up, he thinks to himself. 

“Are… you… okay about it?” you drag out, cautiously. 

“Yeah,” he answers with a curt nod. You’re not convinced, eyeing him carefully as Carmy chooses to charge through. 

“Didn’t really expect her to come anyways. Would’ve been more drama than it was worth.” 

“Bear,” you sigh in response to the impossible situation, because there’s no way that he’s not at least a little disappointed. 

He shrugs, his eyes evasive of yours as he scoffs dismissively, shaking his head. 

“Welcome to the fuckin’ family, I guess.”

You really don’t want to get into it now – not on your wedding night – so you shut your mouth even though you’re not exactly satisfied with his response. You know Carmy has every right to not want his mom there knowing that everything he’s said is true, but it still hurts your heart that he’s closed off his heart to her like this – that it has to be this way. 

You let out a heavy exhale, before digging back into the tiramisu, pushing the thought out of your mind. And just when you think you’re done talking about it, Carmy presses you once more, his voice softer this time as he asks:

“What’d you uh… say? To Sugar?” 

You take another breath, a sympathetic smile on your lips as you explain: 

“I told her that I was sorry… that things are the way that they are, but I really just think she just needed someone to listen to her.” 

“Yeah.”

A half beat. 

“And I told her that… well, I told her that… we get to change things. You and I. Her and Pete. With the baby coming and everything too and… and us. Getting married, you know?”

Carmy hums in response, nodding his head as he processes what you said. Returning his gaze to you, it feels like he’s looking right through you, his blues so intense as he softly speaks again.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.”

You wait a beat, then another, noticing that your champagne glass is almost empty. You reach for the bottle, topping off Carmy’s flute first. You search your mind for something else to talk about, because you think he may actually be done talking about Donna this time, a small laugh escaping your lips as you think about today. 

“Hmmm?”

Your eyes move to Carmy’s, then back to the almost-empty champagne flute that you’re refilling as you smirk with, “Bold move putting me on the spot like that with the vows.” 

He laughs, a blush running across his cheeks as he shyly replies:

“You know, we got there, and I uh… well, I wanted to. Should I uh-, you know… think we shoulda talked about it before?” 

“No, I actually kind of liked it,” you reassure him, raising the champagne flute to your lips once more. You take a sip, before continuing to flirt with your husband. “You’re gettin’ the hang of this whole… romantic gesture thing, Berzatto.”

“Anything for you, Berzatto,” he shoots back, emphasizing your new last name in a way that makes your heart flutter at the reminder.

You hum a satisfied hum in response, relaxing a little more into where you sit on the bed. 

“Though if I had known ahead of time, I guess I could’ve prepared something. ‘S too bad,” you say playfully, causing Carmy to smile.

“We could do it now,” he offers, his voice going up at the end like it’s a question, and there’s something so boyish in his charm that it makes your heart melt. 

“Hmmmm,” you begin, pondering where you’d like to start. He had promised to love you forever, and you him, but as you think about all the ways you want to love him, a smile spreads across your lips. 

“Okay,” you accept, ready to play along. “I promise… that on the days you want breakfast burritos… that I will go to the place you like a few blocks down from ours.”

“Even though you think the place across from our place is better and closer?” he asks, unable to hide his shock as his eyebrows raise then lower. 

You giggle, “Even though I think the place near ours is way better and is so much more convenient to get to, Bear.” 

“Wow uh. Okay then,” Carmy says, taking this as an invitation. “Then I promise to always make sure to check that they put extra green salsa in the bag for you, no matter where we get the breakfast burritos.”

You grin, nodding your head alongside a, “You’re too good to me.”

This time, you take a moment to think it over, taking it more seriously now. 

“I think… we should promise… to always have each others’ backs; to always be each others’ teammate.”

Carmy nods his head in agreement, “Yeah I uh… I think that’s great, babe.” 

Two of you settle into a comfortable quiet, eating tiramisu and drinking champagne, while Carmy continues to steal glances your way when he thinks you aren’t looking. 

He takes a beat. Then another, before propping his head up on his hand where he lays on his side across from you.

“What about this?” he proposes. “We promise to love each other, even when we disagree.”

“Even when you’re being a dick,” you tease him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Even when I’m being a dick and you’re fuckin’ fed up with me,” he agrees with a head nod. “What else?”

“That we grow old together,” you say, without question, before painting him a picture of what you dream it could look like. 

“And we promise to take care of each other when we’re cranky and smelly, and you’re telling the grandkids about your glory days as a hotshot chef….” You take a beat, giggling at the thought. “... while I roll my eyes because you’re yelling at someone to bring you your old chef’s knife so that you can show them that you still know how to perfectly Brunoise a carrot.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have to pry my chef’s knife out of my cold dead hands,” he warns you, humorously.  

You laugh, “Honey, I knew that when I signed the marriage license.”

“I think we’ll be those grandparents, don’t you? The ones that pass on all of our recipes to the kids and the grandkids, and even when we’re not there anymore, we live on in everyone’s kitchen,” you conclude, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. “You know? You and me.” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

You exchange a silly laugh, because neither of you know where to go after this, your and his hearts warmed by the thought of growing old together. You’ve been together for years now, but in so many ways, it still feels like you have so much life ahead of you; a life with Carmy that you’re only just getting started. 

Carmy waits a beat, allowing your shared laugh to subside. 

“I like the sound of this. Of us,” he declares, his voice soft yet sure. 

“Me too, Carm. Me too,” you agree.

[fishii-writes]

the crown of your head - chapter two - him.

masterlist

cw: kaiser (again smh /j), proofread (at 3am so dont attack me!), finally some isagi crumbs 🤯, kaiser slanders/humbles isagi, lmk if i missed anything

a/n: erm. not rlly liking this series so far! sorry chat... anyw erm if the first few chapters i have planned dont really idk, hit off ig, i might not continue this as a series. best bet might be to make it a long fic but idk man. enjoy !

word count: 426

Michael smiles in return, introducing himself and stating his reason for arrival. Before he can introduce you, a woman, who looks pretty young, but certainly not young enough to be your age, catches sight of him. With a smile on her face, she hurries down the large white staircase.

“Michael! You made it! And with your darling sister,” she looks and sounds so happy, it's a nice change, compared to how your parents behave at the mere mention of you.

She wraps your brother into a quick hug then shakes Ness’ hand. She turns to you, politely smiling as she puts out her hand for you to shake it. You hesitantly shoot a quick glance to Ness, who nods, then to your brother, who nods a little more harshly. You shake the lady’s hand, reciprocating the smile.

“Welcome, welcome, dears! Yoichi, darling, come down!” she lets go of your hand once you share the friendly gesture and turns around, calling out to someone. And boy were you wrong for thinking this was some mere “someone”.

She calls out again, inviting the three of you in as a butler leads you to the lobby. Honestly, can it even be called a lobby, by the way it's so extravagant? Not just its vibrant exterior, the whole palace follows the theme of sapphire blue. It's gorgeous, to say the very least.

“Ah, mom! We have guests?” a boy who looks around your age, assumingly Yoichi, asks, standing beside his mother. She nods. She whispers something to him before she exits the room. The boy walks closer, smiling.

“Welcome-” your brother cuts him off. So they’ve met before, and don’t seem to be on good terms. Just great.

“Oh please, don't act like you didn’t know we were coming here. Didn’t you encourage it?” Michael rolls his eyes, a scowl finding its way back onto his face. The boy’s smile fades, but doesn’t say anything.

“As I was saying, welcome to the Panasonic kingdom. I’m Yoichi,” he smiles. And that's where your mind goes blank for a moment. The way his eyes are upturned kind of animatedly, and his lashes are brushing against the skin above his eyes. God, who let the “devil” be so handsome-

You’re snapped out of your daze when you hear your brother groan. “I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Michael scoffs, turning to Ness and dragging him out the lobby.

Well, that’s embarrassing. Rude, one might even say. But Yoichi doesn't really look that surprised, more confused, almost as if it happens… often?

taglist: @someprettyname , @reapkusho , @starrissm , @zendersenders , @thebestsetter , @takemikai , @sharkissm , @shidousprincess , @academiq , @reonaissance , @your-local-reblogging-kazoo , @ab-meri-jeene-ki-tammana-nahi , @nareldata + open (send an ask/comment on main post if you'd like to be added)

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 33. seashells and slackers

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

when y/n got back from her trip, everyone went to see her (they secretly just wanted their seashells). they held their own tiny auction on the floor of y/n's condo, making ridiculous trades and attempting to convince the other person to hand over a certain seashell.

jolie and atsumu fight like siblings (lovingly) if they see an opening, they will definitely take it and tease the other.

LMAOO bomb defusal with kenma and shoyo! i haven't played it myself but i keep getting asked to. i know that one person takes control of the bomb while the other has a manual (guess who has which... bc it's disastrous either way...)

yaku's one of kuroo's co-stars on his certain film! yaku also worked on daybreak with oikawa and sakusa; i added his name onto the daybreak poster in chapter 24!

they're just happy to see a familiar face from high school again. brings back memories!!

youtube link is actually the link to the alice in borderline trailer shhh 🤓

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: thinking of chapter titles is actually so hard for me 30% of the time it's serious and the other 70% is hehe's haha's

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444choso @mylahrins @deimmortales99 @hisfuture @staywhelmed8801 @dl-yum @nessaasstuff @milesmoralesluvs @101tsumu @ryeyeyer @cherrypieyourface @azharyy @mimi3lover @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @dazball @whykirbo @r0seandth0rns @localgaytrainwreck @miyamoratsumuu @zephestia @luvvmae @seeyapizzazz

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 2, Unspeakable - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of alcohol, longing looks/touches, this part's mostly fluff, ngl.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: And from that night, you and Bucky became best friends. Because there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and the stuff of your nightmares was one of them.

A/N: I thought the Harry Potter quote was appropriate to bastardize for the Previously On... Don't come for me, lol

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21

From that night on, Bucky found every excuse he could to touch you. It was as though, after so many years of nothing but cold cruelty, he had become addicted to the warmth and softness of your skin. You didn't mind in the least; you liked the way he wrapped his arm around your stomach and rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder when he came up behind you, or the way he pulled your hand onto his thigh and traced the lines of your palm with his index finger while you watched TV in the common room, side by side.

One afternoon, you were standing in front of a monitor in your lab, lost in thought as the numbers from your latest algorithm trial ran across the screen. So immersed were you in the data that you didn't notice the form coming up behind you until two hands grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you.

Without thinking, your years of training kicked in, like flipping on a switch. You stomped down, hard, on the top of your assailant's foot with your heel, while simultaneously throwing your elbow back into their solar plexus. The attacker let out a low "Oof" and released their hold on you, giving you the opportunity to drop your weight low and spin on your toes to face them.

Bucky stood stooped before you, one hand clutching his abdomen where your elbow had made contact, the other hand held up in surrender. The other hand?

"Jesus Christ, Buck!" you panted. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"I was trying to surprise you, you hell beast," Bucky said, though he was smiling. Rubbing the tender spot of nerves you had so artfully disturbed, he asked "Where'd you learn to fight so dirty?"

"Krav Maga," you beamed, pleased that you'd managed to get a hit on a super soldier, even if Bucky hadn't been actually attacking you. "Care to tell me how you managed to end up with two fucking arms?"

Now it was Buck's turn to beam at you as he held out his new left arm for your perusal. You took the hand, inspecting it. Black metal gleamed in the light of your lab. You turned the arm over, admiring the craftsmanship. "This is a thing of beauty, Buck," you murmured, trailing your fingers along the gold veins that ran through the metal. Bucky involuntarily shivered at your touch. "You can feel that?" you asked him, awestruck. He nodded, his face awash in delight.

You leaned in to examine it more closely. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it was... But, no, it couldn't be– "Bucky," you said in astonishment, looking up to meet his eye, "is this vibranium?"

Bucky grinned from ear to ear, looking like a little boy who had gotten just what he'd asked for for Christmas. "It was a gift. From the Wakandans, for helping them capture Helmut Zemo." Bucky seemed almost shy at revealing why the Wakandans had gifted him the arm, as though he was still uncomfortable with being acknowledged for doing good instead of being blamed for committing evil.

"This..." you started, at a loss for words. "Bucky, this is amazing! The Wakandans are the most technologically advanced nation on the planet. This makes the arm I've been working on look like a fucking stick."

Bucky cocked his head and studied you as you studied the vibranium appendage. "You were making me an arm, doll?" he asked, throat choked on emotion.

You looked up at him, a blush of color rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was trying to. I wasn't going to say anything until I knew it would work; I didn't want to get your hopes up, but this... this is worlds better than anything I could have manufactured."

Bucky gently pulled his metal arm from your hand and used it to cup your cheek, instead. You leaned into the cool, hard metal. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," he murmured. You gave him a soft smile.

"You're one of my best friends, and you deserve all the good things," you told him with a shrug of your shoulder. "Including two functioning arms."

Bucky pulled you into a hug and you returned his embrace, relishing in the feeling of being completely held by him. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Pocket," he said into the top of your head.

You pulled back to look up at him. "Well, hopefully, you'll never have to find out." You stayed like that for a few moments longer, neither of you willing to be the first to let go. "You know what," you said, eventually pulling away from him, "we should celebrate."

Bucky looked down at you with a glint in his eye. "Celebrate, huh? What should we do?"

"Anything you want," you told him, moving out of the cage of his arms. Arms. You still couldn't believe it. "It's your arm we're celebrating."

He studied you for a moment, and there was a look in his eyes you couldn't quite decipher. As the heat of Bucky's gaze lingered on you, a shiver ran down your spine. There was something different about the way he looked at you now, something that made your heart race and your palms grow sweaty. It was as if every fiber of his being was focused solely on you, his eyes tracing every contour of your face with an almost alarming intensity.

"Can we start those Hobbit movies?" he asked.

"That's how you want to celebrate?" you smiled up at him. "You're such a fucking nerd. Yeah, we can absolutely do that. Oh, shit--" you remembered. "It's Girls' Night tonight. It’s fine– I can skip it."

"No," said Bucky, and the look he'd been giving you had vanished, leaving you to wonder if you'd simply imagined it to begin with, "go to Girls' Night. I know how much you look forward to those."

"I said we'd celebrate, and I want to celebrate," you insisted. "I can bow out of Girls' Night early. I'll just pop in, have one glass of wine, and then I'll be all yours; they can manage without me for a night."

Bucky hit you with his devil-charming grin. "All mine?" he asked, a mischievous lilt to his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully slapped at his chest. "You know what I mean, asshat."

"Another dollar in the jar," he tsked.

"Get the fuck out of here and let me get back to work," you said with a laugh, shooing him away. You followed him with your eyes as he made his way to the door. Right before he went through, he turned around and looked back over at you, giving you a parting smile before walking off.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

• Chapter 40

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none! Enjoy!

Words: 3356

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashionstyle-blog @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragonsflare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae @plexcaffeinate @strawblueberrys @massivelyfullenthusiast @iimichie @bts-0t-7 @hannahdinse8 @hannahdinse8

(open)

Previous:

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

„Hyung, that's unfair; I wanted to be with Bunbun!” Jungkook whined when the teams got divided. Except for Namjoon, all played rock, paper, scissors to see which team would be theirs. 

It ended with you, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin on one, while Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Yoongi would play opposites. After the second eldest would actually get into the pool, that is, as he rumbled annoyed that it's too early for this, while he placed the previously scattered towels into a neat pile. 

Your team got the more shallow side of the water area; not that the opposite was too crazily sloped, though—that just really wouldn't be fair. 

Plus, except for maybe Yoongi, the alphas were very tall, so they would be fine; you believed not to feel too guilty. 

All of you soon gathered just at the net border to talk before the game. 

Jungkook, with his competitive spirit shining through, began, "Alright, let's go over the rules real quick before we get started. That way, we're all on the same page."

Taehyung jumped in, adding, "Scoring works like this—we'll play to 15 points. You score a point when the ball hits the water on the other team's side." The young alpha measured your team with attentive eyes, a supportive yet competitive gaze that met yours. 

„And also, remember, when serving, make sure the ball goes over the net and the other team has a chance to return it. Let's have fun!"

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "Exactly, and when volleying, you can use any part of your body to hit the ball, but no catching or holding onto it. And also, no crossing the net into the other team's territory—that's a big no-no." He smiled brightly, happiness shining through. 

You wished you were this confident too, yet your skills just wouldn't hold up, but you were ready to try your very best and really just have fun.

Taehyung grinned mischievously. "And if the ball goes out of bounds, it's a point for the other team. Let's keep it in play, guys, and show off those volleyball skills!"

As the packmates listened attentively to the rules, Jungkook clapped his hands. "Alright, now that we're clear on the rules, let's get this game started! May the best team win!"

The proclaimed leaders of each team, for yours Namjoon and for the opposing Jungkook, played rock, paper, scissors once again to determine who would get the first serve. 

It ended up being Jungkook's team, and so, as the youngest got ready into the position from which he would start the game, all of you too separated to form a sort of net and hopefully win. 

You were at the right side of the pool, just a metre or so from the net, attentively watching the youngest alpha, waiting for him to throw the light ball. To your left was Jimin, behind you was Hobi, and at the very back corner was Namjoon. 

Jungkook's throw turned any hopes of your skills not being that bad out of the window, his muscles flexing as the ball flew high up in almost a perfect semicircle, aimed towards the back of the pool where the leader stood, his belly button just in the water. 

With a soft gasp leaving you, you watched in almost slow motion how the alpha reached forward, and it truly seemed as if his fingers just barely touched it in time before he let the ball bounce back forward. 

Once again over to their side, you watched as Yoongi, who stood just before you let the sphere easily pop back over the net, clearly aimed your way with the soft blow, much less stressed than when the youngest alpha threw it. 

„Kitty-!” He breathily called, just to really make sure that Jimin wouldn't reach for it instead. And so, you stood on your tippy toes to touch it sooner and let the ball bounce just over to Yoongi again. 

You smiled brightly, happy that you didn't miss the opportunity or mess it up for your team too badly, even when Jungkook's team scored in the end. 

The match continued for a while after, yet you struggled to always respond correctly, especially in the pool position at the very back. You messed up a few times, but your teammates were quick to cheer you up, claiming you would get it next time with no problem. 

You had fun, to be truthful, but after the opposite team won, though only over 3 points (3!) you let the others continue another game while Hoseok abandoned them to spend time with you. 

The alpha smiled at you, his wet and pretty hair brushed back to show his forehead. You giggled when water splashed into his eyes from Jimin, calling, „Don't stare!” while giggling loudly, as you jumped to Hobi's arms, who was rubbing at his eyes, grumbling softly. 

No hurt feelings today; even after you slipped into the water from your games with Taehyung, the alpha was quick to hug you soon after hiding your face in his neck. 

With your palms resting over his collarbones, the alpha held you close. With your eyes closed and your chin resting next to the connection of his shoulders and neck, the calm, soft waves were nice against your body, allowing you to rest. 

„My sunshine...” Your eyes fluttered open at the man's voice, looking up. His eyes were fond as they stayed on your calm form, the tips of your hair wet. Even in what you would believe was an unflattering look you currently had, the alpha before you and all the others around you believed in the exact opposite. You were beautiful. 

The alpha smiled even wider, his nose meeting the very top of your head and his scent sticking to you again. 

You spend more time in the pool with the alphas, Hobi having you hold onto him as he walked around the pool, the pretty waves nice against your shoulders and arms, eyes closed and truly vulnerable—yet not even for a moment did you feel unsafe. 

And when the youngest alphas came around to you to have you be part of their competition to make the biggest splash when jumping, you reluctantly said yet, but only when Hoseok would stay at the corner of the pool, ready to help you the moment you would have any troubles. 

True to be told, the rest of the alphas watched very closely whenever you would jump into the water. While the youngest alphas would choose the deepest end for their performance, you stayed at the spot where your tippytoes would still reach the bottom, too afraid otherwise. 

You had Jin and Namjoon judge the splash, first just the eldest, but once Jin claimed you jumped the most 'splashy' even when it wasn't necessarily the truth, as you just slipped in the water, barely making a proper splash, your competitions started crying out about Jin being biassed, claiming, „Hyung, you can't say that when I was clearly the winner! The water touched the ceiling too!” 

At the whines and your cheeky smiles, Namjoon came over from letting the water spray on his back from the massager head, claiming he would make the judging fair. 

Soon after thought, the playful competition turned into smiles and one of love as you and the other three tried to make different letters and shapes in the air while the elders judged, clapping and laughing. 

You did your best to make BTS letters, but the B was a bit wonky while Jungkook held your ankle to his tummy with your arms around his shoulders and the man's other hand at your waist. 

At your first successful attempt, you and the others bugged Yoongi, who brought his phone to take photos of your jumps, as you held your hands with the others, or when each of the men would have an individual photo with you at the very deep end, jumping with you in their arms. 

You had true fun; the entire pack took a bunch of funny photos with the phone, taking videos and time-set photos. And just before you had to leave, Jungkook sat you on his shoulders, and with Taehyung and Jimin on him as your opponents, you played rooster fights the alpha gentle to not be too harsh and throw you completely over much too dangerously in their eyes. 

Not much later than that, the second eldest man's phone started ringing again, and an alarm was set so that they would leave on time. With that, the men started all slowly getting out of the water, Jimin being the first to bend down near the edge to hook his arms under your arms, picking you up from the water before you could even try to do so yourself. 

Tenderly placing you back onto the tiles around, he said a soft, „Be careful not to slip, princess.” Before you could even step away, the eldest was already there with the fluffy towel he got you, wrapping you up in the comfortable pale purple, the alphas palms gently warming you up as you started to shiver. 

Soon you were already leaving, with Yoongi's fingers closely wrapped around you, holding you after he brought your crocs over before. Namjoon ushered all of you out after he slid the doors open, waiting for everyone to leave before he turned the heating back to low-spend mode before the pack alpha followed after you all. 

„Here, angel, I'll wrap your hair up, baby cheeks!” Taehyung smiled widely, the cute boxy smile like a cure to any sadness lingering from having to leave already, as the alpha stood behind you in the corridor leading further to the house, gently letting his fingers comb through your hair before he wrapped the towel around the locs, squeezing the water out. 

You looked too cold in his eyes, your lips turning too purplish for his liking as your skin felt cold under his sweet touches. And so, the alpha's warmer body wrapped around you in a comfortable hug, his chin going over your temple with cute eyes. 

„How about you shower to warm up a little baby? You're too cold; you'll get sick.” He fretted over you, Namjoon, who just walked past, quick to catch on, the back of his hand carressing your cheek, a soft frown taking over his features. 

„I'll start the shower for you, pup. Come on.” He said gently, taking your other hand in his, with Taehyung holding the left one. The alphas were quick to lead you upstairs, leaving small droplets of water on the floor. The eldest complained about having to clean later, but he had too much fun to be truly angry. 

The second youngest led you to his bedroom, your confused glances shushed with his calming pheromones. He pulled out one of his warm cardigans, a mixture of warm tan, dark green, and red in an argyle pattern. 

„Babycheeks, how about this? Or do you want something warmer? This one is super warm and has a nice fabric too. What about it?” The man said, rummaging through the racks of clothing while you watched wrapped in towels. 

The alpha pulled out a cream-white sweater with a small black heart with big, pretty eyes. The logo was cute. You smiled wide, noting how well-scented it was, and so you nodded right away, having the man return a wide, boxy smile and hand you the heavy sweater. 

„Wait, sweetie, let me check the tags, so it won't be harsh on your skin.” He remembered, softly once again taking it back, looking and reading closely through the tags on the bottom of the torso. 

'Comme des Garçons V-Neck Cream Heavy Knit Sweater

luxurious blend of 80% cashmere, 15% silk, and 5% merino wool

high-quality construction

Hand wash gently in cold water; lay flat to dry.

Designed for A/B/O comfort, avoid prolonged O wear to prevent skin irritations.

Elevate your style with Comme des Garçons.'

„Okay, baby cheeks, it should be okay. Do you want help choosing the rest of the outfit too?”

He asked you, a certain longing in his eyes you recognised easily. You always liked the alpha's style, and even if you only saw a few so far, his outfits were always very comfortable-looking, so why not? You thought, letting a small nod leave you, having Tae smile even wider, taking your palm in his, and leading you back to your room.

The door to the bathroom was already open, a warm mist leaving it as you heard the packalpha humming to himself and the shower running. Just then he came out, leaving a soft peck at your forehead, his dimples on display as he told you to warm up soon after you choose what you would like to wear and that you will all leave after you all quickly wash up. 

You and Taehyung agreed that you would like to wear something warm and comfortable prioritised, opting for good-looking sweatpants rather than any more structured pants. 

In the end, you ended up with bootcut leg solid dark brown wool knitted sweatpants, which were very soft and didn't have any flashy logos, just a small but foreign name of the company at the waistband. 

You soon hurried to the warmed-up shower, washing your hair and using nice-smelling shampoo, conditioner, and body wash to get rid of the light chlorine smell. The shower was quick but very comforting as your skin warmed up, cheeks rosing up. 

The towels were hanged to dry as you rinsed your swimwear from the chlorine water, placing it over the fluffy towels, which you would have to return to the alpha again. 

You pulled on the pants quickly, nice warm socks, and a cute brown turtleneck to match the plushy pants you wore as you shrugged on the very well-scented v-neck, the heavy fabric comforting on your shoulders. 

You wished you would have a necklace or two to layer on with the pretty v-neck cut, which would look especially pretty, but it was okay and you weren't too upset, drying your hair as quickly as possible with the hairdryer who blew cold air. 

As quick as you could, you left the bathroom again, grabbing your phone from being charged at the bedside table and rushing to not have the others wait any longer. 

Jin met you at the bottom of the steps, frowning at how your hair wasn't fully dried yet, opening his mouth to complain, but you hugged him instead, mumbling how you didn't want him to wait any longer. A simple response was received: „We would never mind peaches; alphas will always wait for you.”

As the eldest breathed in your sweet scent, he sneakily brushed his hands against your back, his own scent combining with Taehyung's that you were swimming in. 

„Cub here, I just warmed these up in the oven for you; they aren't freshly baked but should still be really good, hm? You like chocolate, right?” The damp-haired alpha asked, slightly worried for a little moment. 

He placed the warm chocolate pastries with oozing chocolate before you, the flaky batter golden. They looked delicious, with small wallnut choppings at the very top, sprinkled, and pretty. 

You nodded happily, sitting to take a bite just as the eldest placed ice tea before you with a big metal straw, making you smile and thank him softly. 

Only halfway through the two big pastries served to you did you hear the packalpha call out for you all to start getting your jackets, having you all leave very quickly, apparently almost late already. 

Jin looked worried, turning to you after packing a few packaged snacks into a lunch box, sighing annoyedly. The alpha wished you could have eaten calmly and fully, but their timetables just wouldn't suffice. 

The other pack mates rushed back downstairs as you calmed Jin down, saying it was all good and that you didn't mind finishing your food in the car, while the eldest placed the warm breakfast into a paper bag, choosing to grab a smaller carton of packaged ice tea and placing the full glass in the fridge for later. 

„Pup, baby, we need to go now.” Namjoon came over, a heavy, long black coat on, the man ready to leave with a beanie on his head. 

„Joon, she didn't even finish her breakfast!” Jin gasped, upset. What would it matter, the eldest thought? The photoshoot could wait. The other alpha frowned at that, biting his lip, considering just waiting for you to eat, but you answered instead:

„Let's go, oppa; I can eat later.” You smiled softly, taking your breakfast as you walked over to the racks with coats, choosing a simple black puffer jacket. Jimin, standing next to you, handed it to you. 

„Here, princess, let's zip it up for you.” He whispered gently, the closure sounding as the alpha helped you, ending with a cute kiss to the tip of your nose. 

You smiled softly when Jimin placed cute fluffy earmuffs on your ears, his eyes creasing as he couldn't contain his excitement. He hugged you close before snapping a quick picture, having you hide your cheeks right after. 

The alpha helped you make up the snow boots, which were comfortable and warm on your feet, lacing your fingers with his leading you out of the entrance, walking first to make sure you would know if there was any ice on the cleaned-up path. 

It was no longer snowing at the moment, but the temperatures were as icy as ever, having you all hurry to the large van you would all go in. Namjoon, who walked a few steps before you pulled the doors open for you, picked you up by your waist before he placed you on the heightened step, not wanting to have you slip like that one time a while ago. 

„Bunbun, sit here! I saved you the best spot, baby.” You followed Jungkook's voice, having you sit down at a seat in the back row in the middle, with your other side shared with Hobi. At your spot was a cute, comfortable blanket that the youngest was quick to wrap you up in, no matter the cranked-up heaters in the car. 

His tattooed fingers wrapped around yours, his lips ghosting over your knuckles, his own scent left subtly. With Hobi combing through the slightly damp hair of yours with a soft click of his tongue, you watched as Jin entered the van, Yoongi calling out if everyone had all they needed as the ride wouldn't be too quick. 

At first, it was planned for the pack mates to drive to HYBE first to meet up with their staff and have a driver take them to the spot, but in the end, the plans changed as the alphas wished to not have you go with the other staff, who usually travel together in separate vans. 

You let Hoseok put on your seatbelt for you as you rested your head against his shoulder comfortably. The smiley man was cute as he rubbed your knee in comfort. 

The ride was for at least an hour, the pack on their way to a snow resort for the photoshoot, and so you let Jungkook play a movie for the three of you, having you hold the phone, reasoned by you being in the middle, but he really just wanted you to have the best view. 

As the action movie you didn't understand too well played, the noise was subtle enough not to disturb the other alphas, you occasionally watched the passing streets, and the time seemed to slow down with you and the pack. 

You ate the still warmed-up pastries comfortably in their company, offering them both a bite or two they happily indulged in. 

With a soft peck to the top of your head, Hobi ran his fingers through your hair, his voice soft as he said: 

„Sunnybub, thank you, really. For everything.” Jungkook nodded, serious eyes set on your cute form. As you squeezed both their hands closer to yourself, your cheeks warmed up. 

For once in your life, things truly felt right. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Next:

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: i'm going to say it on every chapter. READ THE WARNINGS ON CHAPTER 1!!!!!

Also, I am officially opening up a tag list for readers who are interested in updates. If you are interested, either respond to a chapter, DM me, or send an ask and I will add you to the list.

I'm eventually going to make a masterlist for this fic, but that won't be until it's completely finished.

Taglist: @phsycochan

Chapter 4

[Prev] [Next]

Saturday morning.

Law was woken up at 3:30 AM from his hospital pager calling him in as quickly as possible for an active aortic aneurysm.  You had woken up from how quickly he jumped out of bed, but fell back asleep just as rapidly, getting to sleep in as you had weekends off.  When you did wake up, however, you were nervous.

You were tracking.  

You were supposed to get your period 10 days ago.

Bepo didn’t seem to need to go out that urgently, so you quickly fed him before retreating to the bathroom, digging through the medicine drawers for your abundance of at-home pregnancy tests that Law insisted on keeping.  Your hands were shaking as you unboxed the familiar white stick before performing the test.

You washed your hands and waited for the test to come back.

You wanted to leave and make yourself breakfast, anything to distract you from the turmoil of waiting, but your feet simply refused to move from their spot.  The only sound in your head was the pounding of your own heart, the only reminder that you were even still alive.

One minute passed.

Then two minutes.

Then three.

Was the world still turning?  Were you still breathing?

You blinked once.  Then twice.

You reached a shaky hand forward and picked up the test, gazing at the result window.

—

Law remained on call, but was able to return home after the aneurysm operation.  He opened the door to see you standing there, a bright smile on your face.  He had barely taken off his jacket when you thrust a white stick in his face.

His stomach dropped.

“Law…” you whispered, your face growing more and more excited.

“It’s…” he uttered back, golden eyes wide with exasperation.

Two thin red lines displayed in the result window.

You barely had time to register his reaction when Law scooped you off of your feet, spinning you in his arms.  You squealed at the sensation, gripping his shoulders tightly as Bepo sprung to his feet and barked at the display.  You were placed back down, Law stabilizing you by your arms.  His cheeks were flushed, his eyes blown wide.

“It’s actually… is it actually…?” he asked, winded.  Even he could barely believe his eyes.

“It’s positive, Law…” you whispered back, your own disbelief was palpable, but your joy was radiating from your body in waves.  You flung your arms around his neck, laughing into his shoulder.  Law held you around your hips, the smile on his face comparable to his smiles from your wedding night.

It was positive.

It was positive.

“Law… what do we do now?” you asked, still gripping the test.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two thin red lines on the display, as if you were still coming to terms with reality.  You were pregnant.

“I… I honestly don’t know…” he responded, equally dumbstruck.  

You both had sex around three times within the past two weeks, so it definitely happened some time then.  Regardless, you beamed.  “I just… can’t believe it.  Almost eight months…”

Law pulled you toward the couch in your shared living area, sitting you down next to him and holding you close.  There were so many words he wanted to say, so many expressions of sheer delight and excitement at the sudden success of your shared efforts, but all he managed to say was, “I’m gonna be a dad…”

You laughed, both out of nerves and elation as you added, “I’m gonna be a mom…”

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before bursting into a shared fit of giggles.  Bepo hopped up onto the couch next to you, shoving his head into your shoulder and forcing you to turn your attention to him to pet and kiss his head.

“Bepo, you’re gonna be a big brother!” you cheered.  The dog’s pink tongue was hanging out of his muzzle, like he was smiling just as bright as you and Law were.

Law wanted to shout it from the rooftops.  He wanted the entire universe to know.  But for your sake, and for the sake of Bepo’s sensitive ears, he kept his words contained within the walls of your apartment.

“We did it…”

[bittersuitejacobs]

• an unhealthy obsession • Nate Jacobs •

two. the slate cleaned

Summary: In which Ophelia spends the first day of school realising that she is both far more noticeable, and completely unrecognisable to friends and peers alike.

Warnings: obsessive behaviours & stalking.

A/N: 2422 words. this continues to be self indulgent and possibly messy, also just as a warning, but Ophelia is not necessarily a good person, the warnings for this chapter are about her. please let me know what you think!! :)

{ masterpost }

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

So it continues with the pleated skirts and knee high socks and arms full of books and an air of sweetness.

They share several classes this semester - have for years, actually - but if anyone were to ask Nate, he would claim he'd never seen her before that semester started. Ophelia sits at the front of class now, tight sweater and hair in half-up pigtails, but quiet. The aesthetic change had little effect on her academics; she was a good student when she didn't care how she looked, she's still a good student now that she does. Except now she keeps her books in her arms, and backpack that was only really useful as an accessory, rather than in the large thing that had always clung to her before, which had always favoured function over form. The only real change would be her willingness to participate in class, eager to steal the class's attention and get them to notice her, notice the change.

Now, she smiles shyly when others talked to her, and her laugh is one she pretends she hasn't been practicing over summer; pretty, musical, dainty.

Befriending Jules, and by extension Rue, wasn't at all part of the plan, but it was a pleasant side effect. It had been a long time since she'd had a proper friend offline. Now she had two.

Jules is in her first class of the year; art. Initially she doesn't quite recognise Ophelia - something about the hair and the makeup and the shirt at the party seemed so different, she'd said - but lights up once Ophelia jogs her memory. When she asks about the bandage on Jules' arm, the blonde rolls her eyes, tells her about how some drunk asshole threatened her while Ophelia was in the bathroom, so she'd grabbed a knife and threatened him right back before making a spectacle of herself and practically fleeing.

"Rue patched me up, though," she giggled with a faint flush; Ophelia knows what the early stages of a crush looks like, and there's something endearing seeing it on Jules' face now.

Ophelia knows about Rue in kind of a nebulous way, which is the same way Ophelia knows about most people in her year. Bookish and desperate to keep her name out of people's mouths when she'd finally gotten to public school in junior high, and for the past two years of high school, she kept mostly to herself, and satisfied her need for a social life online. Even as she grew restless with that, started attending parties, started taking note of the people around her, she put the effort in to making sure they barely noticed her. These people she'd been in close proximity to were still arguably strangers to her.

But that was changing, and she was glad for it.

At lunch, Jules invites Ophelia along to join her and Rue. A proper meeting with someone she'd run into around school for several years, and sat silently beside at a handful of parties; all of which Rue was too high at to ever event notice her presence at all, which worked just fine for Ophelia at the time.

As if proving this point, Rue asks who she is when Jules waves her over, which only confuses the blonde.

"Lia, I told you I invited her to sit with us."

Rue squints up at Ophelia, who happens to know exactly how Rue looks across her various stages of being high, and knows she's seeing it again now.

"Are you new too?" Is the first thing she asks Ophelia, who's sliding onto the bench on Jules' other side. Ophelia shakes her head, Rue hums for a moment, "I kind of recognise you..."

"We used to share study periods on Thursdays," Ophelia prompts, not that she's sure Rue remembers. It's not as if they actually studied together; Ophelia studied, Rue... was there.

"Didn't you used to be a dirtbag?" Rue tips her head to the side, scrutinising Ophelia now. Ophelia, despite knowing that someone may notice, may make the connection and have questions, was still caught off guard.

"Dress like one? Sure," Ophelia shifted a little awkwardly, avoiding looking at Jules and her confused, silently questioning glance.

"Cool," Rue says nonchalantly after a beat, only adding to confirm her name; "Lia?" And Ophelia gave her a sunny smile, nodding.

The only things Ophelia can fit in her backpack are her lunch and her phone. Today, lunch meant two apples she'd bought that morning from the grocery on her way to school. It used to include a packet of chips, of a sleeve of Oreos, always something she could buy on her way, but forfeited them for the sake of her optics of her new look.

"Is that all you're having?" Jules seems concerned.

"I'll eat more when I get home," Ophelia assured. Food was an... uncomfortable situation for her; she always preferred eating at home nowadays. Jules doesn't exactly seem placated, but she leaves well enough alone.

The pep rally at lunch is enough to steal her focus, all of their focuses, actually. Its... a lot. Rue and Jules are caught up in their adjustment at how over the top it is, but Ophelia guides her gaze with intent. The coach and his enthusiasm. Maddie and the cheerleaders. The football team riling their peers up. Nate Jacobs, their captain.

For a moment, as his eyes roam the cafeteria, watching the sea of chaos as it ebbs and flows with the excited shouts of his teammates, his gaze catches on her. There's not even a flicker of recognition in his eyes before he's looking past her, to Jules and Rue, frowning. Ophelia pointedly turns her face, turns her eyes to the cheerleaders, to watch what she felt like she was supposed to, rather than to be caught staring at someone she wasn't.

She'd already been attending football games for most of the last semester, part of her pattern of observation, but she'd always kept close to the back of the stands, out of sight, out of mind. Starting this Friday, she'd make herself far more seen at events.

After lunch, and saying goodbye to Rue and Jules, Ophelia walks into her algebra class and takes the front row seat closest to the window. Others filter in behind her, and Ophelia watches them all with the most mild of interest, appearing to zone out more than anything else. Nate is one of the last ones in, with another footballer behind him, and Ophelia let's her gaze drift away so she doesn't look like she's staring. His gaze slides her her with a casual kind of disinterest, and Ophelia realises very suddenly that he has absolutely no recollection of who she is.

Good. A real fresh start.

Still that day afternoon she still takes the long way home out of habit, music in her ears as she follows the suburban streets. Nate's truck is outside his house when she stops past on her habitual detour; she wonders if he'd already dropped Maddie home, or if they were both here. Of course she could check; the backyard bordering on the Jacobs' residence was owned by a young, busy couple who both worked late, a side gate that was easy to scale, and a front door camera that was easy to avoid. But it didn't feel like something worth bothering with today, so she simply lingered a few houses away as she lit herself a cigarette, and continued the final half hour home.

Considering her change in style, she wondered if she could still keep up the routine she'd developed. Walking past his house wasn't the issue; even if he did see her, it's not like he knows where she lives, or that she's going out of her way for him. It was more that she'd taken to sitting under the bleachers after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, smoking and sketching and pretending like she wasn't watching football practice. With the new persona she'd created for herself, it would seem out of character if she was seen skulking around behind the bleachers.

Beneath the bleachers was another place Ophelia used to see Rue, though she never stayed as long as Ophelia did. It's not as though they hung out; Ophelia kept to the side, trying to remain as unnoticed as possible, and she has a feeling she often succeeded -

"Ophelia? Lia?" While pondering her plans for that Tuesday afternoon, a voice brings her out of her thoughts during her study period, and Ophelia looks up to see Lexi Howard giving her a confused smile. Immediately, Ophelia beams; she's always been rather fond of Lexi, at least since she'd started high school. A year below Ophelia, but with an air of someone much wiser than anyone have her credit for, it wasn't long before they were friends. Lexi wasn't some vague, nebulous figure in Ophelia's life the way the rest of the school was, she was probably the only person Ophelia genuinely considered to be a good friend. Lexi laughed awkwardly, setting her bag down, "you... look different."

"New year, new me," Ophelia shrugged.

"Really new you," Lexi looked her over, still obviously trying to come to terms with Ophelia's new aesthetic, "I almost didn't recognise you; you look really good," she's quick to assure her. Ophelia ducks her gaze, laughing the compliment off as she asked her about her summer. Lexi seemed to relax at the question, thawing out as she chattered away about the break that had just passed. It hadn't been particularly eventful, apart from learning Rue had overdosed and spent the summer in rehab. Ophelia knew this; Lexi had called her the night she'd found out, and Ophelia had stayed on the call for hours in her hotel in Sweden, heart breaking for being too far away to give her friend proper support, or even a hug.

As much as Lexi had spent the summer worried about Rue, she still enjoyed the time away from school. Most of her time was spent either in her room, or with Cassie and her friends; they liked Lexi well enough, and Ophelia was at least glad she had people around her who were good to her.

They're catching each other up on the shows they'd been watching by the time the bell goes. When Lexi stands, she invites Ophelia over to her house.

"I need to know everything that happened in Sweden," she laughed, "I'm still not entirely convinced you didn't somehow get a concussion," she admits, "you still sound like you, but Lia, seriously, you look like a different person," at least she sounds fond, even if the confused concern is back in full force.

"I haven't got brain damage," Ophelia rolled her eyes, "I just wanted a change," she assured honestly. Lexi holds up her hands, placating, warmth still in her gaze as she lets it drop, insisting that she still wanted to hear about Ophelia's summer in Sweden.

"I'm staying back to do some drawing, work on my proportions and poses, but I'll come over after," it was a usual enough occurrence that Lexi nods, not asking any follow-up questions.

Which is how Ophelia finds herself walking back to Lexi's house with Cassie Howard after football practice. It wasn't on purpose; the cheerleaders also had practice on Tuesdays. From what she'd observed, the cheer team trained in the school's gym on Tuesdays and had the field on Wednesdays when it was free. Watching them on Wednesdays wasn't exactly a regular part of Ophelia's routine the way watching the footballers practice was, but she's no stranger to them. Maddie may not be the main focus of her observational habits, but that didn't mean there was no merit in trying to understand what Nate saw in her that meant he kept going back to her.

And the cheerleaders were talented athletes in their own right; more than a few pages in her art journals were dedicated to trying to capture their graceful, dynamic movements. The cheerleaders actually made far more interesting subjects in that respect.

More than once over the past year, Ophelia had considered trying out for the team. She could probably make it; months spent atrophying in a hospital bed at fourteen had lead to extensive physical therapy, and after years of feeling weak and sickly as a child meant it felt good to move her body like that. Exercise had become a big part of her routine in the last few years, not that anyone would suspect it just by looking at her. But she'd always eventually dismissed the idea. She was sure Nate liked that Maddie was a cheerleader, but she didn't think he liked her because she was one, and Ophelia didn't want to draw any unnecessary comparisons if she didn't have to. If he was going to want her, she didn't want it to be because she reminded him of Maddie.

"I feel like I know you from somewhere," Cassie's voice is surprisingly close behind Ophelia when they're a few blocks from the school, and Ophelia gives a start. It's not the first time they'd technically walked back to Cassie's house like this considering their routines, but it's the first time Cassie's spoken to her. Yes, Cassie does know her, but only as one of her little sister's weird friends.

"Yeah," Ophelia gives an awkward laugh, "we're in the same homeroom, Cassie."

"Oh," Cassie frowns, trotting a little quicker to fall into step beside Ophelia. She's still in her cheer uniform, obviously not having bothered to change after practice. It's a good look on her, "right," as she looks at Ophelia for a long moment, it starts to dawn on her, "wait, aren't you Lexi's friend? You're not in my grade, are you?" At least she's smiling, even if it's disbelieving.

"I've been in your grade since we started high school," but Ophelia let's herself smile as Cassie laughs.

"Shut up, no you're not!" She grins widely, "Lia?"

"I've been to your house many times, Cassie," Ophelia reminds her, and Cassie shakes her head.

"Not looking like this you haven't!" She insisted, "you used to be all emo, didn't you?"

"I'm trying something new."

"Clearly," Cassie looked her over, as if evaluating her, "you're like, really pretty, this is so weird," she finally decided on, meeting Ophelia's waiting gaze with a warm smile.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Ophelia laughed, and Cassie gestured broadly to her.

"Look at you!"

"I'm still me," Ophelia insisted with a sheepish smile, heart growing warm with the praise, finding herself genuinely enjoying the company on the walk, "I'm just more noticeable now."