#i love me a good slowburn i really do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loaksky · 2 months ago

Text

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #vi x reader #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi smut #vi league of legends #wlw #sapphic #arcane x reader

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pencil-n-pen · 21 days ago

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ALL I DO IS TRY, TRY, TRY

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post prison! spencer x genius fem! reader

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summary: all your life, you’ve been second-best. Even now that you’ve been chosen to be an agent of the BAU, you’re just a replacement for Spencer Reid. What could change now that’s he’s out?

cw: there is a bit of an age gap, i imagined reader in her early to mid 20’s, nevermind how it isn’t accurate for working at FBI. this is a criminal minds fic, so there are graphic depictions of violence, as well as implied/referenced child neglect/abuse in readers childhood, reader is somewhat a genius

tropes/tags: slowburn on readers end, Spencer is flirting from the beginning, HURT/COMFORT, angst, bit of a sick fic in one scene, bit of soft dom! spencer as a treat

a/n : this came to me in a prophecy. full disclosure i haven’t actually seen the prison arc yet so if there’s any inaccuracies shhhhhh look at the fluff

also !! this is a LOOOOONG one. strap yourselves in. grab snacks and drinks

slipped in some very slight father figure Hotch bc that’s my crack

title taken from Mirrorball by Taylor Swift

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Spencer Reid is absolutely nothing like you’d thought he’d be.

From how the team talked about him, you’d been expecting a short, slight man. Someone quiet and meek and non-threatening.

And Dr. (Agent?) Reid was quiet. But not in the don’t-notice-me way, but in the I-know-what-I’m-doing-and-don’t-need-to-say-it way. He quietly commanded attention and respect. One look at the man told you he was not somebody to fuck with.

He was also really, really, really hot.

It was unfortunate and difficult, truly, because he’s your senior agent, someone who’s got more than a few years on you in both field experience and general age. He’s a genius- insanely good at what he does and there’s no refuting that.

But most of all, he’s kind and respectful and just genuinely a good person. And also good looking. Did you mention that yet?

He clicks seamlessly into place with the team in a way you’ve never managed to do in the time you’ve been with him. And after all, why would you? You’re just the rookie transfer with a bit higher than average IQ. Nothing to brag about. Nothing like Spencer.

You were a data analyst with the FBI before your boss told you: “The BAU is looking for a temporary genius. I put your name in the ring. Hotchner must’ve been impressed with something, cause he picked you. I know you’ve completed the training courses for their team, so pack your desk. You’ve got a new assignment.”

And just like that, every single one of your dreams came true. And then promptly burst into flames and burned to ashes when you realized what exactly your position on the team was: Temporary and replacing.

It makes sense, you guess. The team grew to rely on Reid’s quick wit and intellect. And beyond that, they’re an agent short. And you fit the bill well enough: swift and intelligent. Nothing more, nothing less. It became clear during the first few weeks that no one on the team had any intention of liking or particularly getting to know you beyond a professional capacity. And you get it, you really do. You don’t name the dog you’re gonna get rid of.

With the exception of Penelope. But you don’t think she has the ability to ignore someone without a clear reason.

So you did your job and you were good at it. Held the team at arm’s length even when they warmed up to you. Kept your head down, stuck to yourself. This way, it’s easier to stop yourself from leaning into JJ and Prentiss’s jokes, or to stamp down the glow in your chest from Hotch’s approval.

All of this hard work goes sailing straight out the window and spattering on the concrete below when Reid comes back. Because all it took was one case together- one. And then you’re hopelessly in love with the guy you replaced.

And it’s all kinds of terrible, because it’s Reid. He’s not only your coworker —soon to be ex, because now that he’s back you’ll be out of a job— but he’s also so incredibly out of your league it’s not even funny. But he keeps smiling at you and including you in conversations and saying hi to you and asking your opinion on things during cases as if you would have more to add than he does.

It’s very hard to keep him at arms length. And because Reid is Reid he drags everybody else over with him and then you’re bonding with a team you have a week left with, maybe two.

Spencer Reid has weaseled his way into your life one stupid smile at a time.

—

The case is going terribly.

What started as a run-of-the-mill serial killer case in some nowhere town turned into huge investigation because Spe— Reid figured out its relation to a cold case from a neighboring town decades prior. And then, to top everything off, just so happens to be near enough to your hometown that your mom saw you on the news when JJ was giving a statement.

And now she won’t stop calling.

Prior to this, you haven’t talked to your mom in about seven months. Now? She’s calling upwards of twelve times a day.

“Mom,” You say, tucked in one of the police stations back rooms, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m working, I can’t just come out to see you—“

“But you’ve never visited! And your finally in town, and—“

“I’m not in town, I’m a four hour drive away from town.”

A sigh crackles through the line, her voice tinny. “You know, your brother always made time to visit family, and your younger brothers—“

“Are younger than me and more successful, yes mom, I’ve heard it all before. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to catch a serial killer.”

You snap the phone shut before she can protest, effectively ending the call. You sag against the wall, sighing deep and weary. Exhaustion clings to your bones. It’s not just your mom. This case, being physically close to your hometown, everything— it’s weighing you down. You spend more time in the hotel bed tossing and turning than sleeping.

Even Em— Prentiss had shot you look when you’d came in this morning- though jury’s still out about whether or not it was an are-you-okay look or a you-better-be-good-for-the-case look. You’re hoping it’s the former.

The room you’re in is empty- the precinct that called for the team went under renovation and remodeling last year, so some of the rooms have fallen into disuse, apparently. It’s dusty, and filled with boxes and papers and weirdly, one or two condom wrappers. You wish you were surprised.

Your phone has been put strongly on silent, and you’re not expecting anyone to find you for at least twenty minutes. Of course, you don’t need twenty minutes. You just need five.

You just need to collect yourself for a moment. A few minutes to breathe, to get your mom’s words and the unpleasant memories they bring out of your head; to will the shake out of your hands and the cold creeping in your lungs.

So when the door opens, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Spencer walks in, phone clasped in one hand and a worried expression on his face.

“We’re getting ready to give the profile.”

“Oh,” You peel yourself off the wall, discreetly wiping at your face. You hadn’t noticed the frustrated tears carving lines down your face, “Sorry, I’m coming.”

He frowns as you come closer, and panic begins to beat like a drum in your chest.

“Is Hotch upset? I just had to take a call, I thought it would—“

“Slow down,” He says, raising his hands. “Hotch isn’t upset. Is something wrong?”

“No,” You say quickly, too quickly, because his frown deepens.

“You’ve been taking a lot more calls recently and you’re always upset after they’re over. Is someone bothering you?”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “My mom. We’re a four hour drive away from my hometown. She saw me on the news when JJ gave her statement.”

Something flashes in his eyes when you say your mother, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“You don’t want to see her.”

He says it flat-toned and blank. Like it’s a fact.

It is a fact.

“No,” You confess, “I’ve never been close with my parents. I haven’t spoken to her beyond a text in years, and I haven’t texted her in months. Then she sees me on the news and I’m back on her radar again.”

You chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, the folly of the disappointing daughter.”

He tilts his head, questioning. “You’ve made something of yourself. You’re a special agent. That’s not nothing.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not Doctor or Lawyer or C.E.O or anything else my brothers or cousins have made of themselves, so,” You shrug. “Disappointing.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Spencer says, a small curl to his lips, “You keep all of those stupid people safe by catching serial killers.”

“You’re a doctor. Did you just call yourself stupid?”

He shrugs, mimicking your earlier action. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”

You look down to hide the smile on your face but he ducks down, catching it anyway.

“Hey,” He says, eyes catching yours, “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

You (hesitantly) look up to meet his gaze. “Thanks, Reid.”

His face does something weird. Contorts at the words, just for a second. Like he just bit into something sour.

And then it’s gone.

“Of course.”

—

For the rest of the case, everytime your phone rings, Spencer looks at you. You’re getting close to just throwing the damn thing off a roof, if it’ll convince him to stop looking at you like that. You don’t know what to do with it. The look he gives you tastes like worry, and you don’t know what to do about Spencer Reid worrying about you.

You never meet his gaze. You know he’s looking, but you never look back.

Finally, the case comes to an end. Actually, it goes out in a literal blaze of glory— the unsub lights his kill shed on fire.

All of it would have burned to ash if you hadn’t run into the structure and and snatched the murder weapon and the most damning pieces of evidence: the printed photographs the unsub took with the victims.

It’s a win because you saved the evidence.

It’s a loss because Hotch looks pissed while the paramedics check you over.

Well. You assume he looks pissed. You’re staring resolutely at your shoes.

Finally, the paramedic gives you the all clear —just some minor burns here and there, you got lucky— and you no longer have a human buffer and excuse to avoid talking.

The silence stretches out between you two. Eventually, you cave.

“Hotch, I’m sorry—“

He holds a hand up and you clamp your jaw shut.

“Did you not hear me give the order to stay back?”

“I just thought—“

“We are a team, agent. I need to be able to trust not only that you’re going to follow my orders but be able to work together with the team. Now, you’re not doing either of those things.”

You frown. “I do follow your orders.”

He sighs. “You didn’t today. And more importantly, you’re not acting like a member of this team. You don’t call for backup. You don’t ask for help. You do good profiling work, agent. But if you can’t work with this team then we might need to reconsider your position here.”

That… doesn’t make any sense.

Hotch catches the confusion on your face. “Something wrong, agent?”

“I just— I was under the impression that I would only be working with the team for a few more weeks…?”

Now it’s his turn to look confused. “You may have been hired at an inopportune time, and until the first year is over it is a probationary basis, but pending review, you are and always have been a permanent member of this unit.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You didn’t think you’d be staying for long.”

You shake your head, your world turned on its head.

He hums. “You should buy earplugs. Rossi snores.”

You drop your head into your hands.

“And agent?”

You look up.

“You did good work today. You have a team. Learn to use them.”

He walks away, leaving you to process this crisis-inducing information.

So. You’re not leaving the team. You’re a profiler. Forever. This is your job now.

So does that mean you weren’t replacing Spencer? So why were you hired? Anything you can do multiple people on the team can do better. Why would Hotch pick you?

You stare at the pavement, which gives you a perfect view to watch Spencer’s shoes walk into view and hear him settle next to you.

“You’re a little young to be having a mid-life crisis.”

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to respond, partly because you’re not sure what to say, but also, the length of his thigh is pressed against yours and it’s hard to think when he’s emanating warmth and you can’t stop yourself from thinking about how it would feel to touch, skin to skin.

“Well,” You croak, “I did just get some pretty big news.”

He leans back on his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Looking up at him was a mistake. Bathed in the glow of the ambulance and the light from the moon, you can see just how long his eyelashes are, and how his lips move when he says your name.

Oh shit.

“Sorry, what?”

His face twitches in a smile. “I asked if you were okay. You were staring.”

You flush from your neck to the tips of your ears. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

See, he always does this. Most people would end the conversation there and move on. And that’s fine. It’s normal. But Spencer asks. Like he’s interested.

You shrug. “I thought… I thought I was leaving the team in a few weeks. Turns out i’m staying.”

He starts swinging his legs on the edge of the ambulance, though where his almost brush the ground, yours swing several inches above it. “Why did you think you were leaving?”

You laugh softly. “My boss told me the position was temporary. And in my excitement of getting it I may or may not have… not read the paperwork?”

He clicks his tongue. “Oh, honey.”

The tips of your ears burn. “I was excited!”

“To get a job staring at gruesome crime photos?”

“To help people.”

“What? Data analysis not helping people enough?”

“Do I even have to answer that?”

He snorts, his body shaking against yours. “You’re a consulting analyst. That’s the big leagues.”

Now it’s your turn to huff. “Is there a big leagues for data analysis?”

He leans his head down to look at you. “Well, maybe miss smarty-pants over here made a league of her own.”

The shade of red you turn must be visible, dark and bad lighting aside. “You have an IQ of 187. Can you really call me a smarty-pants?”

He tilts his head, giving you an assessing look. You recognize it. He gives case files the same look.

A faint shudder runs down the length of your spine at that precise, clinical gaze.

It should concern you, unnerve you.

It doesn’t.

“No, I’m positive. You’re a smarty-pants.”

You look away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

“Hey, no. Come on, you gotta own up to being a smarty-pants. Otherwise you ruin the effect.”

“Am I supposed to start wearing sweaters and Converse, then?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be owning the smarty-pants look.”

“Do we have to keep the smarty-pants thing going?”

“Took your mind off the burns, didn’t it?”

You blink, realizing that you haven’t noticed the dull sting of the minor burns littering your body for a few minutes now.

But that has less to do with Spencer speaking and more to do with the fact that he’s here. Touching you. If you focus really hard, you can feel the chords of muscle lining his arm.

“Uh,” You stutter, momentarily flabbergasted by the way he’s looking at you. Like it’s important to him— you not being in pain. “Yeah, yeah, I guess. Well. I feel them now.”

“Oh, shame. I guess we’ll just have to keep talking.”

You furrow your brows. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Shouldn’t you be helping finish wrapping up the case?”

He shrugs. “I’m right where I want to be.”

That’s a decidedly very loaded statement that are not going to unpack.

You’re not going to unpack to jolt of pure electricity you feel from it, either.

—

You may or may not have lied about just how sick you were, exactly.

“You know,” Rossi says after you hack a cough into your elbow for what has to be the fiftieth time in as many minutes, “That’s starting to sound less like the plague and more like desperation.”

You sniff harshly, taking a swig of cough syrup and praying this isn’t the king with codeine in it. You didn’t read the label very well. “What do you mean?”

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. “He’s saying that most people on their veritable death/bed opt to sleep comfortably in their own beds in their own homes rather than on a plane to hunt down a violent killer.”

You think if your apartment— it’s cozy, at least, but still a glaring reminder of the reason you told Hotch you were fine to come in- loneliness.

You have heated blankets and warm lighting and books and tea —boxes and boxes of tea— and all manner of things that make you happy. But no amount of things can replace, tangible human connection.

You knew the ache of spending the day in your apartment would sting worse than the cold. Fever, Whatever you have.

“I’m thinking of a word,” JJ says, mock tapping her chin thoughtfully, “Starts with work, ends with holic.”

“I am not a workaholic,” you wheeze. “I am fine.”

“Yes,” Prentiss says, raising her other eyebrow. Oh no. Not the double eyebrow raise. “Because this is exactly what the picture of health looks like.”

To avoid answering, you take another swig of cough medicine.

“Just do you know,” Spencer says, “You’re about one tiny sip of that away from overdosing. I’d cool it on the cough syrup.”

“But I’m still coughing.”

“Have you given it any time to work?”

“It’s been thirty-ish minutes since I took the first dose.”

He levels you with a look at your usage of dose. “Why don’t you wait a little longer before committing suicide via shallow breathing and seizures.”

You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I know how to take care of myself when I’m sick.”

“Is your version of taking care of yourself just continuously taking medicine until the symptoms become bearable?”

“You’re un-bearable.” You snort at your play on words, but grow quiet because when you look up, the entire team is looking at you. “What?”

“You never joke.” JJ says.

“And I think I’ve heard you laugh exactly two times, and I’m pretty sure one of them was a sneeze.” Rossi says, a look of vague disbelief on his face.

You squirm in place. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Uh, yeah it is. You’re definitely too sick to be on a case if you’re laughing.”

“Come on, it was barely a chuckle—“

Spencer looks around. “Yeah, what’s the big deal? I’ve heard her laugh before.”

JJ and Prentiss snap their heads to him in tandem. “What?”

Now he looks vaguely uncomfortable. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

“That’s cause you showed up late to the party,” Em- Prentiss says, “You didn’t meet her when she first came. She was all genius consulting data analyst.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius—“

“Yeah,” JJ chimes in, “I only ever saw her smile to be polite.”

“Wait,” Prentiss says, brows pinched, “You heard her laugh and you didn’t tell us? You knew we were trying to see who would make her break first.”

“You guys were trying to make me laugh? Is that what was happening all that time? I almost called Hotch like, thirty times because I was concerned for you guy’s mental wellbeing. I thought you’d had a nervous breakdown.”

JJ snorts. “Nope. Just tried to see if the rumors were true about all data analysts being robots.”

You cough into your elbow. “You guys make it seem like I was some sort of frigid bitch.”

“Frigid, yes. Bitch, no.”

“Hey!” You retort, then wince as the volume of your own voice makes your head pound harder and makes your throat sting worse, “I wasn’t that bad. Also, I was nervous! I’m the youngest person here by like, a long shot. I wanted to be professional.”

“I for one enjoyed it,” Rossi cuts in, “It was all blunt business. Straight to the point. No beating around the bush or gossiping. A few people here could learn a thing or two.”

“See?” You gesture. “Rossi agrees with me.”

Just about everyone on the plane gives you the exact same look. Hotch especially, who’s stayed silent during the entire exchange, looks troubled.

Once you land (an ordeal that normally doesn’t bother you, but today, had you worshipping the porcelain altar) Hotch pulls you aside.

“Agent,” He says before you climb into the car that’ll take you to the police precinct, “I can’t have an agent not at peak performance on this case.”

You frown. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re too sick to work this case—“

“No, no, I can work, I can do it—“

“—In the field. You’re working from the station until we wrap up. Understood?”

You sigh, knowing when you’re beat. “Understood.”

He gazes at you for a second. “You might want to call out of work entirely the next time you’re sick, you know. The less time you spend resting the longer it’ll take to get better. I expect to see you taking care of yourself at the precinct.”

You blink. “Are you… dad-ing me?”

He almost smiles. “Well, I am a father. It’s bound to come out sometimes.”

The joke soothes your concerns of him being upset with you (again.) You suppose it would’ve been warranted —Hotch never gets upset without a reason— but still. He’s the only one you occasionally struggle to read.

The good news is by the time you make it to the station, your medicine has kicked in.

The bad news is when you get to the station your medicine has kicked in.

“Spencer,” You say, spinning in a spinny chair and staring at his blurry face. “Did you know that elephants have prehensile—“

“Do not finish that sentence.” He says, glancing back at the team, all in various stages of concern, disgust, amusement, and annoyance. “Did you take non-drowsy cough medicine?”

“Yes! I didn’t want to be tired.”

He scrubs a tired hand down his face, then nudges a sealed water bottle across the table to you. “Drink that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But my throat hurts.”

“Drink it anyway.”

You snatch the water bottle, grumbling the whole time as you crack the seal and gulp down the water, not realizing how thirsty you were until this very second.

You lean your forehead on the table head still pounding from the pressure in your sinuses. You feel a prickle in the back of your neck, signifying that the team is still staring at you.

With great effort, you lift your head, tilting your chin up and trying to summon all the self confidence you don’t actually have.

“I am making a fool of myself. Please disregard my actions until I am no longer ill. This won’t happen again.”

Words are hard. Speaking is hard. With a groan, you drop your head back on your arm.

“Ah, there she is.”

“Knew that laugh had to be a fluke.”

“Cold medicine must be working.”

There are other mutterings about stubborn geniuses and workaholics and data analysis and Spencer staying at the station and—

You snap your head up. “I’m fine. I don’t need a baby-sitter. Spencer would be most useful in the field. He’s one of the best shot’s on the team.”

“And when it comes to needing a marksman I won’t hesitate to get him,” Hotch says, “But for now, I need my two geniuses to put their heads together to solve this case.”

Feeling cowed, you avoid Spencer’s gaze as the team files out of the room you’ve all set up in, instead grabbing a file from the center of the table. You really are being stupid. You should’ve stayed home, now you’re a liability, not to mention a walking biohazard. Fuck, why couldn’t you just think before you—

“I can hear you spiraling from over here.”

You lift your gaze, eyeing Spencer who hasn’t even put down the case file he’s reading.

You look back down. “I wasn’t spiraling.”

“You’re really going to lie to a profiler?”

“We’re both profilers.”

“Yeah, well, you have an obvious tell when you’re worrying about something.”

“I do not!”

You hear the quiet shuffling of papers.

A sigh leaves your lips, and you press the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I’m really sorry, Spe— Reid. I didn’t mean to drag you here with me.”

If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t give any indication of it.

“Who said anything about dragging?”

“I know you’re a germaphobe, and I’m a walking biohazard, and now you’re stuck here going over case files and, and I’m a liability right now—“

“Slow down,” He says, interrupting your slew of word vomit. His voice has dropped an octave, gaining a richer note. You should stop thinking about his voice. “I’m fine. You’re fine. The team is more worried than upset. You’re not the first person to come to work sick. And you won’t be the last.”

“They keep staring at me.”

“Because your current state and manner of behavior are disrupting their pre-conceived notions and set opinions of your character.”

You scrunch your nose. “Don’t get all clinical on me,”

You hear a small huff of laughter across the table. “I’ve come to work far worse than hopped up on cold medicine, believe me. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on working the case.”

Slowly, the itching under your skin settles, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat. Eventually, you peel your hands away from your face and do what he says.

Hours pass by in a blur of text and you and Spencer occasionally either bouncing ideas off each other or making small breakthroughs. Spencer handles the relay of information because you can’t really go more than three full sentences without hacking up a lung. Seriously, what is cough syrup good for?

Sometime past midday, you start flagging. The words start blending and smushing together and your head gets harder and harder to hold up. You’re jolting yourself back awake every five minutes, forcing your body to just bear through the illness for the sake of productivity. You got yourself into this mess, you deal with the consequences.

You’re just… so tired. Maybe you’ll close your eyes, just for a few minutes. To get energy. And then you can get back to the case.

Just for a few minutes.

—

“She out?”

“Like a light. Powered through for a lot longer than I expected. But dextromethorphan gets us all in the end.”

A low whistle. “Poor kid. The ‘proving yourself to the team’ phase is rough.”

A hum. “I think it’s more than that.”

A beat passes.

“You got her?”

“Yeah,” Something soft and good smelling, like pine and coffee and something almost rich settles over your shoulders, “Yeah, I got her.”

—

When you wake, your neck is sore but you’re not cold, which is strange considering you remember falling asleep in a table.

Oh god you fell asleep on the table.

You jackrabbit up in place, knees knocking against the underside of the table. Hissing in pain, you tug the warm thing further around your shoulders which is—

Holy fucking shit it’s Spencer’s sweater.

Said man is nowhere to be found, and the conference/briefing room you’re in is dark. Not only did someone turn the lights off (you’re pretty sure you can guess who) but it’s dark outside. Meaning you didn’t just take a short nap.

You slept the entire day away.

Cold dread seeps into your shoulders. “Oh my god I’m so fired. Oh shit. Fuck, Hotch is going to be so pissed—“

The door opens and you stand, whirling around to face the doorway and then instantly regretting it when spots dance across your vision and your head swims.

You stumble, grabbing the edge of the chair for support and squinting at the figure in the doorway.

“Hotch?”

“Nope,” Spencer’s voice rings out in the room, “Guess again.”

You groan, sinking down into the chair. “Am I fired?”

He snorts. “Seeing as Hotch bet that you’d fall asleep before dark, I’d say no.”

“He bet against me?”

“Actually, everyone else thought you’d only last an hour. He bet for four.”

“How long did you bet for?”

He sets a mug in front of you, steaming tea wafting up and warming your face. “Three hours. You metabolize cough syrup better than I thought.”

You take the mug in your hands, warming your fingers but not actually taking a sip. “Mmm. Told you I’ve done this before.”

“I don’t think that’s the brag you think it is.”

You chuckle, which quickly turns into a cough.

“Drink your tea,” He commands softly from across the table, sleeves pushed up around his elbows and papers spread about him.

You dutifully take a sip, something restless growing calm in the back of your skull.

You eye is forearms, hoping the look-over you’re giving them is subtle. (It probably isn’t, but come on. A button down with the sleeves rolled up while you’re wearing his sweater is practically sinful.)

“Do you… want the lights turned back on? I’m awake now, so.”

He flips over a piece of paper, then scribbles something on a sticky note. “You were sleeping. And you have a headache. I can see just fine.”

“My headache isn’t that bad, really, I’m fi—“

He levels you with a look, and you sink a little lower in your chair. “Do you at least want your sweater back?”

“No. Keep it.”

“Careful, maybe I’ll just keep it forever,” You joke.

“I’d be fine with that.”

What. The. Fuck.

You stand, pushing out the chair with a loud screech. “I’m just gonna— bathroom,” You splutter, your face blazing and stomach doing a gymnastics routine, “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Bye.”

You’re screaming internally the entire way to the bathroom, and once you get there, open-mouthed silent screaming in the privacy of a stall.

Because. He said. He didn’t even look up. He just. And he. Maybe he—

No, no, no. You are not about to entertain that notion. Not again. He was just being nice. That’s all. That’s all.

Collecting yourself takes about five more minutes, and then you’re walking back to the conference/briefing room when you realize you never took the damn sweater off. He watched you scramble out of that room to the bathroom he has to know you weren’t using, with his sweater on.

This is the end for you, then. That’s it. It’s over.

You mentally slap yourself. Get it together. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

You re-enter the room marginally calmer than you left it. You slide into your seat, sip your tea (that he made you!) and keep working on the case.

You pretend you can’t see him smirking from across the table.

—

The case doesn’t last too long. The team catches the guy in the act of beating his next victim. Thankfully, you manage to save the poor woman before he finishes his plan, and with being caught red-handed, it’s fairly open and shut. Case closed. Which is great, because you really aren’t sure how many more nights you can suffer through trying to sleep in the hotel bed.

You have this thing, when you’re sick. You can’t sleep anywhere but the couch. Your couch. You figured (apparently foolishly) that it wouldn’t be too bad, since the crux of the issue is that you hate sleeping in your bed when you’re sick, but no. You’d spent every night of the case tossing and turning and coughing yourself out. Your lungs were tired. Your body was tired. You were tired.

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you when you board the jet. “You haven’t been near-overdosing on cough syrup again have you?”

“No,” You grouse, rubbing your face with your hand. “I’m like, not even sick anymore. I just didn’t sleep well.” For several nights in a row.

“Mmm,” He hums, non-committal.

You practically collapse into your usual seat on the jet, hunching in yourself and attempting to make yourself comfortable in the seat.

You blink your eyes open when you feel the seat jostle next to you. “Reid?”

He’s already pulling out a book. “What?”

“This isn’t your seat.”

“We don’t have assigned seats.”

“No, but you always sit over there.”

“And now I’m sitting here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if you want to argue him on the point or not. You decide against it, because arguing will draw attention to the fact that you’re sitting next to each other having this conversation at all.

You settle back into your seat. “Whatever. Hope you’re not a loud page-turner.”

“Is that even a thing?”

You shrug, eyes falling shut again.

After a few minutes, you shiver, unconsciously scooting closer to the warmth of the person next to you, your sleep-addled brain barely processing the fact that it’s Spencer you’re pressing your shoulder into.

He repositions next to you, shoulder jostling you. You grumble, dropping your head to his arm. Now much closer, your nose fills with the smooth, all encompassing smell that is Spencer.

The dull chatter that fills the plane, the warm body next to yours, and, despite your earlier complaints, the quiet, gentle page-turning lull you into an easy sleep.

—

“Are you drugging her or something? I’ve seen her sleep more this week than I have in her entire time on the team.”

“The only drugging she’s done was voluntary.”

“Her neck is going to be so sore when she wakes up.”

“Sore? Mine would be broken if I did that.”

“Ah, the joys of youth.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“She’s a bit young, don’t you think?”

“Emily don’t start—“

“Just saying, Spence. HR would get a kick out of this.”

“Not like it never happens. We’ve all walked into supply closet B at the wrong time.”

“This isn’t meaningless sex though.”

“…No.”

Silence.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A deft hand re-adjusts your head to a more comfortable angle. “I will be.”

—

Landing jolts you into wakefulness and off Spencer’s shoulder. It’s not embarrassing. It’s not. It’s only weird if you make it weird.

When you’re all back at HQ, you pull Hotch aside.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods. “In my office.”

You stalk up the stairs, aware of the eyes following your back. You step into the office, shutting the door behind you and pretending it doesn’t feel like sealing your doom.

He sits, gesturing for you to do so too, but you shake your head.

“I won’t be long. I just wanted to apologize.”

He blinks. “For?”

“I shouldn’t have come in. I was a liability, and it was unprofessional. Next time I’ll act with more discretion.”

Selfish, Your mother’s words echo in your head, your father’s words following suit: Try harder.

He laces his fingers together, resting him on his desk.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

“Because Reid was gone, and you needed a ge— someone smart.”

“Every member of my team is intelligent. That’s not why I chose you.”

He reaches down, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a newspaper clipping.

Your breath hitches when you read the words on it.

“Garcia found it,” He says, scanning the piece of paper. “‘Professor’s Assistant saves college class from school shooter’. You were sixteen.”

You look down at your shoes. “It was the scariest moment of my life. I didn’t— he came in, and I was behind the door getting paper, and he didn’t see me. He… I knew people would die if I didn’t do something. I tackled him. He shot me twice before I managed to kick the gun away. I almost bled out.”

He nods, putting the clipping down. “That’s who I chose. Not the genius. Not the consulting data analyst. Someone who wants to help people.”

He puts the clipping back in his drawer. “I’m not going to write you up for not having a healthy work-life balance. No one in this bureau does, and if they say they do, they’re lying.”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “Now I look stupid for asking to talk.”

“It’s not an imposition. You’re a member of my team. That makes your wellbeing when you’re on the job my responsibility.”

Unable to form a response to that, you manage to stutter out a thank you, and then flee from his office, collapsing into your chair at your desk with a sigh.

A mug is set in front of you. Different mug, same tea, same hand.

“I think you need to reevaluate your opinion of Hotch and what kind of person you think he is.”

You take the mug with a glare. “I was reasonably concerned.”

“You thought you were going to get written up for coming to work sick?”

“It was a logical conclusion to draw,” You pause, taking a sip of the tea, which is just as good as it was last time. Actually, it’s slightly sweeter, and it soothes your throat more. “And stop profiling me. What’d you put in this?”

“Stop being so easy to profile,” Spencer says, crossing his arms. “Honey. They didn’t have any at the station.”

It’s quiet for a few moments: him staring at you, you pretending he’s not staring and sipping your tea.

“You should go home.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still sick. Don’t tell me you just can’t wait to write all this paperwork.”

“Maybe I am.”

“No you’re not,” He picks up your jacket from where it’s hanging off the side of your cubicle and plops it in your lap. “Go home. I’ll sick Hotch on you.”

You stand, shrugging your jacket on and pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re a cruel man.”

“Mhm. Sure. Go home.”

You grumble all the way to the door, but quiet when you look back to see him watching you fondly. He gives you a little two finger wave, and with the sheer amount of heat that rushes to your cheeks, you have no choice but leave immediately.

Stupid genius co-workers.

—

The next week brings wellness and a lull in cases.

Unfortunately, that also means you don’t have an excuse to put off your paperwork any longer.

Spencer taps the top of it with a slender finger. “Did it get bigger since the last time I saw it?”

He’s hanging around your desk for… some reason. He came to drop off paperwork from your last case, and then stuck around for some unknown purpose.

“No,” You groan, setting your mug of coffee aside and grabbing the first paper off the stack. “Still the same pile I’m procrastinating on.”

“Good luck,” He huffs, finally turning and walking back to his own desk. It’s still in your eyeline, if you crane your neck a little.

You sigh, grabbing your earbuds from your desk, knowing you can’t put the paperwork off any longer. You’re pretty sure Records is going to start sending you death threats soon.

Making your way through the pile is slow going. It’s terrible. The only part of working with the BAU you hate is the paperwork. It’s tedious and never-ending and it always gives you a headache.

The only times you get up are to use the bathroom and get more coffee. JJ kindly tells you that you should probably leave your mug in the break room after your sixth or so trip. Spencer, somehow, appears in the room, and rattles off the symptoms of caffeine overdose.

You leave the mug there.

You continue working well after everyone else leaves. It gets dark, people go home, office lights go off, and while the pile has largely decreased in size, it’s still not finished.

You have to finish. Hotch had made an offhand comment about turning in your paperwork on time and now you have to finish it. To show him you’re not lazy.

You’ve only got a little bit of paperwork left when a hand taps you on your shoulder.

You yank your earbuds out, blinking blearily. “Wha?”

Spencer’s face swims into view. “Come on, time to go home.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you didn’t fall asleep and forget to go home. They do lock the doors at a certain point. Ask me how I know.”

Your brain is moving like sludge, and it takes you several minutes to process what he says. He continues standing in front of you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

“But… the paperwork.”

“Will be here tomorrow. Come on, up we go.”

You whine as he takes your hands, hauling you to your feet. You attempt to scrub the sleep out of your eyes while messily moving papers about so your desk doesn’t look like a copy machine threw up all over it.

He pushes your jacket into your hands and you shrug it on, grumbling all the way through the doors and out to the parking lot, Spencer in tow. He follows dutifully behind you, and everytime you look back at him to voice your complaints all he does is smile.

“It’s cold.”

“That does tend to happen in winter.”

When you get to your car, he reaches out, tugging on your wrist.

“Hey,” He says, looking down at you, eyes deep pools of some emotion you can’t identify, “Drive safe, okay? It’s icy.”

“My commute isn’t that bad. And I’m,” You break off with a huge yawn. “Not even that tired.”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence, smarty-pants.”

“Oh, so we’re locked into the smarty-pants thing, huh?”

“Yep.” He says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and popping the P.

“Well then what am I supposed to call you? Robot-Reid?”

“How about Spencer?”

His words hang in the night air, mingling in the puffs of air from both of your mouths.

“…What rhymes with Spencer?”

“Sensor, denser, dispenser—“

“Dis-Spencer,” You say, smiling to yourself. “I like the sound of that one.”

“You know dis comes from—“

“The latin word dis, and the prefix is used to denote a reversal of absence of an action, expressing negation, or expressing completeness or intensification of an unpleasant or unattractive action.”

He chuckles, smiling down at his shoes. “That’s why you’re the smarty-pants.”

“Oh please. You know all of that and then some.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You both stand in the cold of the parking lot, neither willing to leave yet.

Before you can think better of it, you dart forward, throwing your arms around Spencer’s neck and mumbling “Goodnight, Dis-Spencer.”

You step away quickly, awkwardly giving him a small wave before hurrying into your car and driving away.

Smooth.

—

The next case is… really rough.

Two spree killers, working as a team. A father and a son; the son was groomed into the lower position.

Not anything you haven’t seen before. Trained for. Studied.

No amount of studying could have prepared you for the cold grip of dread that gripped your throat like a vice when you finally confronted the unsubs, and heard eerily familiar words uttered from the father:

“You’re a good for nothing son! I wouldn’t have had to do this if you weren’t such a disappointment of a child! Why couldn’t you have just been more like your siblings?”

The son was killed before anyone could intervene.

Wrapping up the case left you shaken— you’d watched with hollow eyes as the boy’s body was zipped in a body bag.

A hand landing roughly on your shoulder shoves awareness back into your body and you flinch, hard, whirling around with your shoulders raised to meet the oncoming threat.

Only it’s not a threat. It’s Hotch. And he looks concerned.

You force your body to relax. “I’m sorry, I’ll go help question the rest of the family—“

“Are you okay?”

You blink. “What?”

“Are you alright?” He asks again.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m okay. It just… reminded me of something.”

Hotch purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. He looks he’s going to say something, but then decides against it.

“Help Reid get the last of the evidence. Once you two are finished head back to the station. We’ll meet you there.”

You nod, inwardly relieved about not having to deal with the family members. You might start actually crying.

You sidle up to Spencer who’s tagging blood splatters on the carpet. He wordlessly hands you a pair of gloves. He doesn’t ask. You don’t tell.

You work side by side for the better part of two hours, occasionally conversing with the local police or helping the crime scene investigators tag evidence.

If he knows what’s bothering you, he doesn’t say. You wouldn’t have an answer anyway. You’re far too gone in your own head.

You follow Spencer to the break room back at the station, watching him quietly make two mugs of tea. He presses one into your hands with a gentle command to let it cool for a few minutes. The mug is warm in your hands. Spencer is standing next to you, a mug of his own in his hands. Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

You chant this mantra in your head while you wait for the rest of the team to come back.

Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

Spencer doesn’t ask before sitting next to you on the jet. He just does. He hands you a book, then opens his own.

You don’t read a single page. He must know. Still, he says nothing, just presses a little closer to you when he sees your hands shaking.

The team gives the two of you space when you finally land. You stumble off the jet, trip backpack slung over your shoulder, legs wobbly and breath uneven.

You’re not sure why the case upset you this much. Your parents don’t upset you this much. They just— they make the same kind of comments, and so did that father, except now his son is dead because he killed him—

“Hey,” Hotch approaches you slowly, makes sure you can see him. You hate that he feels the need to do so. “Take tomorrow off. Stay home. Recuperate.”

“I’m fi—“

“We all have tough missions and I would do the same for any agent,” He says, clasping you gently on the shoulder. “Besides. We both know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your lips twitch. “Isn’t there a rule against profiling each other?”

“That rule is for all of you. Not me.”

He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before departing.

You manage to haul yourself into HQ and out to the parking lot, cursing as your cold fingers fumble with your keys. Frustrated tears begin to well in your eyes and you press the heels of your hands to your face, sucking in a shuddering breath and begging it all to just stop.

Someone gently pries your hands open, pulling your keys out of your clenched grip. Your shoulders shake as you heave, gasping for cold night air that burns on the way down.

A hand finds its way to the back of your head, pressing it forward into something warm and solid. Another arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close, while the hand on your head drifts down to your neck, squeezing and rubbing intermittently.

“I’m sorry,” You cry, rubbing your face and smearing your tears across your hands, “I don’t know why, it just—“

“You don’t need a reason,” Spencer says, spreading his hand out wide so it covers the entire nape of your neck, “Sometimes it all just gets to you.”

You nod into his chest, lowering your hands from his face to wrap around his torso, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” You whisper, ashamed. “I’ll dream of it. And them. And it’ll be cold and alone—“

“Come home with me,” He says, voice a little breathless while he holds you closer, “Come home with me.”

He says the last part a little desperate.

You sniff. “Okay.”

You hesitantly pull away from the hug, but not before Spencer’s hand moves from your neck to your face, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks on your face. He drops his head down, and you feel the gentlest brush of lips against the skin in between your eyebrows.

“Let’s go home.”

He tugs you along by the hand, helping you into his little old car, tucking your bags into the backseat. He lets the radio play softly while he drives, loud enough to quiet your thoughts a bit but not so loud as to overwhelm you.

He helps you out of the car when you arrive to the apartment building, carrying one of your bags up the stairs- you’d insisted on carrying the rest of your stuff.

He unlocks the apartment door, ushering you into the warmth and comfort that is Spencer’s home.

It’s exactly like you pictured, if not tidier. A bit more modern than you’d imagined. Books are everywhere of course, but so are knick-knacks and trinkets and other little bits of things that are so decidedly Spencer. There’s even a quilt on the couch.

He sets your bag down by the door. “The shower is down that hall to the left. Use whatever products you need to. Do you have any clothes to change into?”

You chew on the inside of your lip. “In my luggage, yeah, but they need to be washed.”

“I can put them in the wash while you shower. In the meantime, you can borrow something of mine.”

You shuffle in place. “I don’t wanna impose—“

“Please let me do this for you.”

The raw, rough edge to his tone makes you pause. You nod in acquiescence.

He takes your hand in his again, tugging you into his bedroom. With one hand, he opens drawers, handing you his smallest pair of sweatpants, and a large, worn, and incredibly soft Caltech sweatshirt.

“I’ll have to cuff these,” You mumble when he hands you the sweatpants, “My legs are half the length of yours.”

“You’ll make it work, I’m sure. Now shoo. I’ll have laundry and food finished when you get out of the shower.”

The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is clean and neat, and to your relief, houses more than just a five-in-one in the shower. Spencer actually owns multiple products for you to choose from and it hits you while you’re lathering the body wash you chose because of how good it smelled that you’re in Spencer’s shower, showering with his body wash, about to put on his clothes.

You’re going to smell like him. His clothes will smell like him. Everywhere in the apartment smells like him.

You decide to blame the near permanent flush on your cheeks on the heat from the shower.

When you exit the shower, fresh and drowning in Spencer’s clothes, he’s standing at his kitchen island, putting the final touches on two bowls of soup.

You almost tear up again. “You made me soup?”

“It’s widely regarded as a comfort food for people who are ill or otherwise sad, and is most commonly made in the wintertime.”

He gives you a little jazz hand, gesturing to the soup as if saying ta-da!

You really do tear up then.

He’s in front of you in an instant, hands poised to help. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Do you not like soup? I can make something else, or we can order in, or—“

You scrub at your face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You’re just, you’re just really sweet.”

His face softens. “Oh, honey.”

He envelops you in the second hug of the night, except this time you’re crying in earnest now. Your crying about your parents, about the nights you went to bed hungry because your Dad told that you were smart, and to figure something out, but you were too young to work any of the kitchen appliances. You’re crying about your first best friend, who ditched you the second your brother asked her out. You’re crying about all the classes and friendships you missed out on while you were in the hospital with gunshot wounds. You’re crying about how your parents didn’t visit you once. Not even when you were in the ICU.

Spencer holds you through it all, a steady rock against the battering waves crashing in your head.

After a few minutes, you wear yourself out, quieting down to sniffling, your shoulders hitching.

He pulls back, studying your face. “Are you ready to eat some soup now?”

You nod, blinking the final tears out of your eyes. “I got snot on your shirt.”

“That’s why we invented washing machines.”

He keeps up a stream of idle chatter while you eat, explaining all the different major soups in the world and where they came from. It’s a balm against your weary mind, lulls you into peace and safety.

Or maybe that’s just the effect Spencer has on you.

When you finish your food, he takes your bowl, deposits it in the sink, and then takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

“I don’t have a guest room, so you can take the bed,” He says, voice soft. “There’s extra blankets in the closet next to the bathroom if you get cold.”

He turns to leave, but a stab of panic slices down your chest, and your hand is reaching out and grabbing his wrist before you can stop yourself.

He pauses, turning back around. “You want me to stay?”

You take your lip between your teeth. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you in the dark of the room— clad in his clothes, face puffy from crying.

The muscles in his jaw work.

“I can’t do this platonically. If we do this—“

You surge up on your toes, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together so quickly your teeth clack.

He goes rigid, then kisses your right back, hands coming up to cup your face, squeeze your neck, smooth over your shoulders.

You pull away first, looking at him through your lashes with hazy eyes. “I can’t do this platonically either.”

He traces the planes of your face with his thumb. “You have no idea how long and how much I’ve wanted to have you right here, just like this.”

“Crying and sad?”

“Dressed in my clothes, in my apartment, in my bed.”

You pause. “You know, tonight, I can’t, I’m not going to have—“

“I’m not interested in sex with you tonight,” He says, reading your mind, “I just want to get that empty look in your eyes gone.”

“Just?”

“Well,” He says, tugging you down onto the bed with him, crawling under the covers and covering you both, “There are other things. A lot of other things, Like this,”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“And this,”

He pulls you flush against him under the covers, tucking your head under his chin.

“But mostly this.”

He presses one last kiss to the crown of your head.

“Really?”

“Really.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his voice breaks the silence.

“After I got out, all I wanted was something soft and gentle. Having something, someone soft and lovely to hold was all I looked forward to. And then I came back and I met you, with your polite introductions and the way you care so deeply about so much and I knew. I knew who I wanted to hold.”

“Wow,” You breathe, “Yours sounds so poetic. Mine is much less so.”

“Mmm,” He hums, “And what might that be?”

You press your face against his chest and mumble so quietly you’re wondering if he can ever hear you:

“I just wanted you to choose me. I wanted to be someone’s first choice.”

He’s so quiet after that you think he must not have heard you.

You’re on the verge of sleep when you hear his whisper:

“There couldn’t be anyone else for me.”

જ⁀➴

EDIT: if you want to be tagged in the sequel when it’s posted, please comment “tag me please!” or some variation of THE POST LINKED HERE !! if you comment asking for a tag on this post, you will not be added to the tag list. tag lists are hard to keep track of, so please keep them all in one place !! :)

EDIT TWO: THE SEQUEL IS UP !! It is linked at the top of this post under “next” :)

#girlblogging #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #soft dom spencer reid #soft spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff

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pirateprincessblog · 2 months ago

Text

doll

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬. 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader insert 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: jeong yunho has a secret. it is locked away in his apartment, away from the dorm, away from his close friends, and away from his idol lifestyle. it waits for him every night, and sends him off every morning. and he just can't wait to end his day and get his hands on his pretty little doll.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 17k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: stockholm syndrome, captive!reader, kidnapper!yunho, manipulator!yunho, angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, touch deprivation, violence, light jumpscare(once), bondage, victim blaming, anger management issues, threats, blackmailing, petting, dry humping, dacryphilia, dumbification, praise, wax play, pet names, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: the reader isn't necessarily small or petite, yunho is simply that big and strong that compared to him she is written the way she is. :) not completely proofread!

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

yunho detests being away for a long time. more than that, he loathes having to keep making up excuses and lying to his close friends just to go to his own apartment. the time digits on his phone screen do not change fast enough, and soon the man finds himself gnawing the inside of his cheek and thinking whether or not to tap on his most used texting app. he sits in his makeup chair, giving the makeup artist a hard time as his fingers itch to type a message to a certain someone.

"yunho, please stay still. i'll be done faster if you let me work." the woman begs. he sighs, and finally puts the phone in his pocket. at least tries to, before a notification stops him.

doll: yunnie doll: i miss you yunnie :( doll: [file attached]

yunho lowers the brightness of his phone screen, then the volume just in case. his fingers then eagerly tap on the file, and his eyes are met with a sight he will never get tired of seeing: a picture of your face, eyes glossy with tears, cheeks flushed, and lips a pretty pink shade, just how he likes it.

doll: be home soon, pretty please?

yunho: what did i say about being needy and impatient? i'll be there when i get there. behave.

doll: i will. i'm sorry.

he knows that he has worsened the situation. that your bottom lip is probably quivering right now, and fresh tears are threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks. and he doesn't hate it. he only hates that he isn't there to see it. satisfied with your lack of replies, he finally sets his phone aside and allows the artist to finish her job.

when yunho arrives at the apartment, he makes sure to turn the key slowly when unlocking the door. he doesn't turn any lights on, simply putting his jacket on the well memorised spot near the entrance and proceeding into the living room. the window is open, but yunho does not worry. you know better than that.

the place is spotless, which means that you really wished to catch him in a good mood today. and he likes when you work hard for him, cleaning his apartment, cooking for him, ironing his clothes. when he is happy, you are happy. and when you are happy, yunho has hit the jackpot.

in the corner of his eye, he notices a sketch pad and a few pencils neatly set on the corner of the window where you loved to sit. the absence of light meant only one thing; you were fast asleep. you probably tired yourself from crying, then tucked yourself in like usual.

the man's polished shoes lightly click against the spotless parquet floor, legs carrying him to the window where he has bought and installed a hanging chair for you. you loved to sink into the fluffy pillows under the blanket, big eyes looking outside where you know you are not allowed to go. but not once did you whine about it, instead thanking him for allowing you to look. he takes the sketch pad, slender fingers tracing the faint pencil lines on the white paper.

it is his face, from today's live they held before their comeback. when you texted him, you really did miss him. so much that you turned on the big tv which you never usually touch without him, turned on the youtube live and made multiple sketches of his face. you had even sneakily put a few hearts around his head, and a small one on his nose. at the bottom of each paper, your pretty handwriting; my yunnie.

he notices that the pencils are getting smaller from being used and sharpened much more lately. he will get you new ones as soon as possible, just so you don't stop and fall in a slump again. he loves when you do things that make you happy.

instead of going to the bedroom next, he proceeds into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whisky and for you – a glass of peach iced tea with four ice cubes. you love it when he brings it for you. even though he has bought packages and packages of the product, and you can drink it whenever yourself, it always tastes the sweetest when he brings it to you.

and he does, quietly setting it on the nightstand and taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage. he sets the short glass right next to your tall one with cherry blossom prints, before finally sitting on the bed.

your figure is half covered by the fluffy blanket he has brought you as a present from one of his tours. you had used it every day and night since, going as far as being whiny while it washed and dried. yunho didn't understand your love and attachment to an item like that, until you confessed one night, halfway asleep and a blubbering mess.

"you bought it for me. it means that you saw it and thought of me before doing that. you remembered me, yunnie."

and since then, yunho always looked for presents to bring you. but he was always rushed, and ended up buying you a lousy souvenir or a chocolate from the duty free shops. he promised himself to get you something even if it meant being late for his schedule next time.

the moonlight peeks through the blinds, illuminating your still flushed cheeks and smeared mascara. your tied up hands are hidden under the pillow where your head rests. softly, yunho pulls them from under it, fingers carefully undoing the knots he made himself. the knots which he crafted himself are thoughtfully put together and pretty against your skin. he was generous enough to let you pick the colour of the ropes, and your answer was always the same: lavender.

once your hands are free, yunho brings your wrists to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to each one before turning his attention to your resting face. his fingers itch to caress you, to touch you, but he doesn't wish to disturb your peace.

he doesn't have to, because his scent envelops you, and before he can react, your nose moves like a bunny's one and your eyes open. he can't help the smile that spreads on his lips when he sees your excited expression, just before you throw yourself on him and try to wrap your arms around his shoulders and back. but he is big, much bigger than you, so you decide that wrapping them around his neck is good enough.

"you came." you exhale into his ear.

"don't i always?" yunho has to peel you away from him, and you whine as a protest. but the way his lips lose the playful curve and his eyes become serious make you bite your tongue as a punishment. regret washes over your features, and yunho is quick to grab your chin with his hand, pressing his thumb on your bottom lip. "be good." he warns.

"yes, sir."

and it's all it takes for yunho to soften again, taking you in his arms and standing up. "take the juice for me."

with one hand you hold onto his neck, making it easier for him to carry you, and with the other grab the glass of iced tea from the nightstand. as if it's hard for him to carry you; he is so strong you must be light as a feather to him. without questioning him, you relax in his hands, until you feel him sit and set you on his lap. a blanket is placed over your bare legs, enough to keep you warm as you sit in the hanging chair next to the window. the man takes the juice from your hand, setting it on the window next to the sketch pad. he doesn't ask about it yet, not wanting to pry unless you tell him yourself. he is happy you've returned to your little hobby.

"are you cold?" he asks, cupping your cheeks and then hands to check the warmth. when you shake your head, he presses a kiss to your forehead, lips a plush cloud against your skin. "my pretty girl."

you only smile as a response, still recovering from your sleep.

"you've been busy today." he notices the rearranged watch collection on the shelf below the television. the plants are refreshed, the once sagged leaves now proudly sticking up. "tell me about your day, bunny."

it wasn't unusual for yunho to sit you in his lap and ask about your day. in fact, it was your favourite part of the day. the way he listens and looks at you with his pretty eyes, nodding along to your never-ending sentences, and those unfinished ones that get interrupted with a fresh thought that you will forget if you don't say it immediately, scolding you and playfully pinching your thigh when you stop yourself mid talking and apologize for being annoying. yet lately, yunho doesn't come as often. what was once an every day routine was now a once a week occurrence. even then, he'd come and check on you, laid with you until you fell asleep, then sneaked off and disappeared into the night.

you hated it. you felt stupid, and lied to. he'd convince you that he left just before you woke up, that he stayed the whole night. but he didn't know that you felt his absence the moment he stood up from the bed. there wasn't much you could do anyway. as if he would listen. yunho is as stubborn as he is handsome. insanely.

"i vacuumed, mopped, cleaned out the fridge and threw out the expired products, put on fresh bedsheets, swept the balcony, watered the plants, rearranged your watch and game collection." you listed, head resting in the crook of his neck and eyes fixed on the ceiling. then, you stopped. and so did yunho's soothing circles on your thigh as he held your body close to his. you swallow, thinking of ways to continue before he can sense the shift in your behaviour. "i turned the tv on, watched you. you were very handsome today, yunho."

yunho hums, and for a moment, you relax and almost sigh with relief. the hand that doesn't hold you cups your cheek, pulling your head away from the crook of his neck and resting it on his shoulder so he can look at you. "who was at the door?"

your blood runs cold in your veins. yunho knows you like the back of his hand, and the flaw is in you for not knowing it well by now. you swallow slowly, eyes still locked with his dark ones, not daring to look away. "a man." you know better than to lie.

"what did he look like?" he presses, tone still calm. and it sends shivers down your spine. it is like the calm before the storm.

"i didn't see. i promised i'd never look."

"then how do you know it was a man?" the dark haired man tilts his head, raising his eyebrow.

before answering, your remind yourself that you are telling the truth, and that you should be calm. "he yelled your name."

"and what did my little doll do?" his hand drops from your cheek to your neck, slender fingers lightly grazing the skin just under your jaw before they completely wrap around the neck. the touch is gentle and soothing.

"i ran to the bedroom and hid under the covers. i was quiet, i promise." you are quick to offer him your pinky as a proof. but he simply shakes his head, then presses his lips to your temple.

"good girl."

the grip on your neck goes from light and loose to tight, growing stronger with yunho pressing the sides of it and making you look at him with confusion. "what-?"

your eyes widen as his grip intensifies, ridding you of oxygen slowly and already making you gasp for air. "if..." he starts, face close to yours. so close that his warm breath washes over your paling face, and lips barely brush against yours. "...you ever open the door, or even look through the window while somebody is there... you hear me?" his voice is a mere whisper against your mouth. you nod frantically, hoping that he releases you if you showed obedience. "yeah? i'll kill you."

"ye-es..." you choke out, tears spilling down your cheeks. small hands wrapping around his big one in hopes of stopping him, but to no avail.

"i didn't catch that." he presses further. "do you understand? if you ever think of getting out of here, or even manage to escape somehow, i will hunt you down and kill you."

you stop fighting back, instead opting for nods and silent tears. "i understand."

"if i can't have you..." he takes a look at your squirming and crying state one more time, then finally releases you. "...no one can."

a sob leaves your lips, and your hands are quick to reach your mouth, hoping that he didn't hear or at least sees your remorse.

but yunho doesn't say anything. instead, he pulls you close to him, his clothed body warming up your half naked one. "it's okay." he coos. "it's over."

"was i good?" you dare ask. you need to know that you didn't ruin what you built with him. that he didn't lose his trust in you. that he won't leave you alone for a month again in this place.

"you were perfect."

and that's all you need to hear to be calm. the peach juice waters down on the window as yunho lightly swings the hanging chair, lulling you to sleep with his voice and kisses to your cheeks and forehead.

the next time you open your eyes, you are angry and throw a tantrum. the sheets are on the floor, as well as pillows, and if yunho found you acting this way, he wouldn't be very pleased. but you are getting tired of him putting you to sleep and sneaking off. the mornings where you woke up next to him are long gone. your heart aches for those days.

there is only so much mess you can make with your wrists tied, so you give up on letting your frustration out on the faultless objects. with the fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you make your way to the living room and slump against the cushions on the couch. only after sitting up straight do you notice a small paper bag and a fresh glass of peach iced tea. the pink cursive writing on the bag makes your eyes almost sparkle from joy. it's been a while since yunho has brought you something from the bakery you absolutely adored.

you don't bother with keeping the bag, instead ripping it in half and using it as a plate for the sweet treat. two eclairs: a pink one and a green one. raspberry and pistachio, just how you used to eat in the mornings with him. he'd get the pistachio for himself, and raspberry for you. and you always wanted a bite of his, and then regretted your raspberry one because his tasted better. and he was always happy to exchange it with you.

not once did he complain about you always ordering the same and regretting it. not once did he refuse to let you have a bite. not once did he say no when you wanted to switch with him. not once did he bring two pistachio eclairs. and you might've become spoiled because of things like that, and even though both of you knew it, none of you said anything about it, because you were both equally guilty. you for pushing him, and him for indulging.

but it worked. it always did. that's why you aren't sure why yunho has suddenly distanced yourself from him. you're trying to be good for him, take care of yourself for him, even go as far as leaving windows open as a sign that you could run away if you wanted to, but you won't. at least that's what you liked to think. deep down you knew that yunho would find you even if you dug yourself a grave and hid under a fake tombstone. he'd find you, and then... you don't want to think about it.

but you have no reason to run. he takes care of you. you are his little doll, and your only task is to be pretty and obedient. but lately, you only have to do that two or three times a month. the rest of the days you die of boredom, cleaning the place, rearranging the fridge, turning the furniture around so that the place looks different and fresh. you are running out of ideas.

now, as you flip through the channels on the television, you are working up the courage to tell him how bored you are. maybe ask for netflix or disney. you are tired of watching the same youtube content over and over again. you can feel your brain rotting as you try to keep up with the recent famous youtubers. a movie would've been more educational at least.

as you eat the pink eclair, you scroll on the phone yunho has gifted you recently, with a promise of you not texting or calling anyone else but him. he can track your activity, and has limited your access to certain sites and apps, which leaves you with a few games that don't require network and a music app. it helped with your boredom, but nothing will ever be as interesting as having him around.

your fingers work faster than your brain, and you end up entering the one and only conversation on the screen.

doll: you left :(

it was always schrödinger's cat with him. he will either get mad at you - like yesterday - or indulge in your whiny and pouty behaviour as he secretly enjoys it. the one way to find out is by opening the box - text him.

yunho: my schedule is packed, sweetheart. you know that.

doll: when will i be a part of your schedule?

yunho: don't push it

doll: but i miss you so much

doll: can i please please please call you? pretty please? just for a minute?

on the other side of the screen, at the other end of the city, yunho sighs. it seems you've become more impatient and needy lately, and he knows he is at fault. you wait for him all dolled up, only to fall asleep because he always arrives so late. then, you talk for a while, and he lulls you to sleep before he has to run back to his dorm.

he taps on the phone icon in the corner of the screen after checking whether anyone is paying attention to him in the dressing room. he is the last in line to get dressed, which gives him more than a minute that you asked for so nicely. he can't say no to you. not when he misses you too. but he'd never say it to you out loud.

you pick up after the first ring, and yunho can almost hear the wide smile as you greet him. "yunnie!"

"hi, sweetheart." his heart swells at your still raspy voice. you must've just woken up. "did you have breakfast yet?"

"i only ate the raspberry one."

"oh you naughty little-" yunho purses his lips. "so the pistachio is only good if it's taken away from me, huh?"

"maybe. i took a bite. it's really not as sweet as when i steal it from you." you playfully reply. "but, yunnie..."

"hmm?"

"i actually wanted to ask you something."

"ask away doll. what can i do for you?"

"next time you come over..." you hesitate before continuing. "would you bring me a book or something? pretty please? i get bored when you're not around."

"oh." yunho says, surprised at the odd request. he didn't know what he was expecting. perhaps that you'd ask him if he'd untie you. or something that he surely wouldn't allow. but he forgot how perfect and loyal you are to him, and how much he has lowered your standards. "of course. anything specific?"

"not really. you pick!" you are so happy that you'll get a book that you don't even care which one it is. "no scary ones, please."

the dark haired man chuckles into the phone. in the corner of his eye, he notices the group leader eyeing him as he gets dressed. yunho's smile drops, and he is forced to end the conversation. "i'll see you soon. don't go late to bed tonight. you need your beauty sleep."

"oh. leaving already?" he hears you pout. he'd give anything to playfully tug your bottom lip right now. "alrighty then. i'll go back to missing you until you come again. which is, what, in a week?"

"be good for me." he orders sternly. "no sassing me. and no tantrums."

"no tantrums."

"and no sassing."

"and no sassing, blah blah."

"dollie. i'm serious." he turns around so that his back faces hongjoong. the older man has taken a great interest in yunho's conversation. "be a good bunny for me."

"yes, yunho."

"good."

just before he lowers his phone to hang up, he hears your faint voice. a mere whisper, which he wasn't supposed to hear. but he did. "i love you, yunnie."

and it fucking shatters him and ruins him inside out.

"dumb little doll." he sighs, looking at the wallpaper of the chat of you dressed in his favourite outfit with two pretty ribbons attached to your hair.

jeong yunho didn't expect his schedule to end so early. tomorrow is monday - his day off. technically, his time off starts now, as he steps into the library at the great city mall. and he makes the most of it. a basket securely hangs from his hand, already halfway filled with books with eye-catching covers and interesting plot summaries on the back. you'll love these, no doubt. and even if you don't, yunho won't hesitate to come back and buy more.

he forgot how dull it is for you to stay in that apartment all day and all night. the least he can do is help you find another hobby while he is not there with you. though, he is working on being less absent. but no matter how much he tries, his work schedule seems to track his brain, because they love swamping him with new interviews and variety shows every time he even thinks of having time off. this time he will be careful not to complain much around the staff about his free time.

at the same time as him, someone reaches for the last book he had his eyes on. it was this month's bestseller, all over tiktok, and he needed to buy it. but so did the person next to him, because they held onto it and weren't planning on letting go any time soon. yunho sighs. he truly isn't in the mood for this right now.

just as he gets ready to scold the person, he notices that it is a woman. a young one. a pretty one. so instead of angry words he was ready to spew, yunho simply smiles. "hi."

"hello," she greets back. "my, you've got good taste."

both of them glance at the basket in his hand. the basket that is meant for you. yunho's smile quickly fades, replaced by a serious face and confusing the woman in the process. "it's for my girlfriend."

"oh." disappointment is evident in her voice. she lets go of the book, then opts to look at the shelves instead of the man so she can hide her frown. "well, she'll be very happy with that book."

"she will." yunho smiles to himself, imagining your excited face as you go through the books.

"you must love her very much. that is a lot of money in that basket-"

"that is none of your concern." his brows are furrowed when he looks at the blonde woman. what is it with love talk today?

"oh. you don't love your girlfriend?" she is confused once again.

her confusion is then replaced by fear, caused by yunho who grabs her by the neck and slams her against the shelves. "take your little book and mind your own fucking business. got it?"

he shoves the book into her hands. the woman nods frantically, eyes glossy with tears and hands shaking as they hold the book. finally, yunho lets go of her. the book is dropped on the ground, and she bolts for the door. only then does yunho realize what he has done. but there is nothing he can do about it. thankfully, he wears his mask. he gets to keep his job another day.

yunho spends more time at the mall than he intended. three hours later, he is finally putting the key in the lock and entering his apartment. you jump at the familiar sound, and he hears your footsteps all the way from the bedroom. he sets the bags on the floor just in time to catch you into a hug.

"hi, doll." he coos. you only hum in response, burying your head into the crook of his neck and inhaling the faint traces of his perfume. he smells of vanilla and musk, with a hint of sweat. and you love every bit of it. nuzzling your nose against the sensitive area on the neck right under his ear, you can't help but sigh with content. yunho chuckles, before lightly squeezing your sides as a sign to let go of him.

you do so, without whines or tantrums this time. he wasn't supposed to come for another week, and he has graced you with the sudden visit. and you will make sure he doesn't regret it.

"i want you to go to the bathroom and freshen up while i prepare something." he orders with a kiss to your forehead.

"yes, yunnie." you obey, already on your way to the bathroom.

it doesn't take you more than ten minutes to take a quick body shower, put on a new comfy sleep dress, and put your hair in a hair clip how he likes it. you almost skip through the hallway, the cold autumn air chasing your bare legs until you reach the bedroom where yunho hides. but when you open the door, he isn't there. only a few paper bags on the bed, and a box with a bow on top and small holes poked on the sides.

not sure if you can touch without him, you opt for sitting on the bed and waiting patiently for him. while he is gone, you glance at your chipped nail polish. you should've asked him for polish remover instead. you accidentally spilled it when you foolishly tried to multitask by watching television and painting your nails. does yunho notice things like that? will he say anything about it? what if you just paint over it? will it look bad?

your thinking is interrupted by the tall man entering the bedroom, with two glasses in his hands. one with whisky, and one in similar colour to it. you know it's your iced tea; its sweet scent envelops the room as soon as he sets it on the nightstand.

"my patient doll." he praises with a kiss to your head. his fingers find their spot under your chin, raising your head so that you look up at him. his other hand reaches for your hair that you have neatly pulled back into the hair clip. with a single motion, his finger hooks into a few strands of it, setting them free from the clip and letting them frame your face. "so pretty."

if you could physically melt on the bed right there and then, you would. the way yunho looks at you makes your brain mushy, and your legs weak. after all this time, he still has that effect on you.

"i got you something." he motions for you to stand up, then sits down and pulls you into his lap. your back rests against his chest as his does against the bed frame. you sit cross-legged, making space for the bags so you can reach them easier. he takes the box first, pulling it between his legs that hold you securely and in front of you. "go on, open it."

all the hesitation is gone as soon as he gives the green light. the bow is shoved aside, and so is the lid. a gasp leaves your mouth at the sight.

two light brown ears perk up at the newfound light, and soon enough, a snout peeks out of the box. it sniffs, and sniffs, until it gets the courage to climb out of the box and flips it over, trapping itself under it. yunho removes the box and throws it on the floor, causing both the animal and you to jolt lightly. then, he takes the almost hand sized rabbit in his hand, holding it for you to take.

"it's a rabbit."

"yes, love. it's a rabbit." he confirms.

"it's so cute."

"i know." he kisses your cheek. "a bunny for a bunny. now you'll have a little companion when i'm away."

you carefully take it in your hands, testing the waters. it is pure fluff in your hands, as soft as yunho's hair after a shower. a little ball of fur with two big eyes and big floppy ears. and it is all yours.

"what will you name her?"

"dawn." you have your answer ready.

yunho laughs fondly. "dawn?"

"it's my favourite part of the day." yunho then remembers you telling him how much you prefer sunrises over sunsets. sunsets make you sad. they mark the end of the day. and you hate when things end. dawn brings a fresh day, and the sun is as pretty when it rises as it is when it sets. "thank you, yunho. i love it."

"don't thank me, love. you deserve more than that for being so obedient for me. now go through the rest of the presents. i'll keep your bunny safe while you do it."

"uh..." you look at your tied wrists.

he manages to untie the knot with a single hand, keeping the rope in it and playing with it while you start digging through the bags. with each book you pull out you let out a squeal of excitement. if it weren't for yunho, you would've stayed up all night reading.

but he had other plans once you finished exploring, taking your hand in his and pulling you back into his lap. the bunny is fast asleep on the pillow next to him, making you his main point of attention. the last book is still in your hands, fingers flipping through illustrated pages of the limited edition and eyes gawking at it. the smell of whisky fills your nostrils, and you look up and find him taking a sip.

"what does it taste like?" you wonder.

yunho doesn't answer. instead, he brings the glass to your mouth, pressing the edge against your lips. "small sip. a tiny one."

you listen, keeping your lips closed so that only a small amount of liquid can pass through. something about this is so intimate: him holding you in his lap as you wear your sleep dress, a book in your hands, making you drink from his glass, not breaking eye contact as you do so.

and yunho's view is to die for. you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours, completely under his control and trusting him. your lips finally touch the whisky, and tongue barely peeks to taste it. you pull away, shutting your eyes and pursing your lips in disgust. "eugh."

yunho laughs, then downs the glass before putting it on the nightstand. "let's stick to your peach iced tea, hm?"

you nod in response. then, yunho finds the second light switch above the bed frame, turning it off. the moon is almost full, resting its silver rays on the bed and lighting up yunho's face. you'll never get over how insanely handsome he is. he is almost unreal. sometimes you even ask yourself whether he is a fruit of your imagination from staying alone for so long. no man you've met was this majestic: with hair as black as a raven, eyes dark and shiny as a starry night, porcelain skin, pretty nose with a little bridge where he rests his glasses, and oh, the prettiest pink lips. many times you've found yourself gazing upon his lips as he spoke or ate. and many times you wanted to close the distance as he held you on his lap while he read something or simply scrolled on his phone.

but you can't. yunho doesn't like being touched. at least that's what you gathered from the way he jumps when you try to remove a fallen eyelash from his cheek or straighten a sticking strand of hair. yunho gets very jumpy if you even hug him without warning. and you like to think that he is like that with everyone. that you aren't the issue.

but no matter how he behaves towards you, whether he is distant or can't keep his hands off you, he is still royally beautiful.

"thank you, love. you're not bad yourself."

blush creeps up your cheeks. you didn't mean to say it out loud. but yunho doesn't mind, and instead pulls a cover over both of you and sets the book aside. your legs are cold against his warm ones, still clothed. "won't you change?"

"i'm too lazy." he admits.

"can i change you?" you offer, sitting up and leaning on your elbows.

yunho smiles, eyes still closed. "i'd like to see you try."

in no time, you find his dark blue silk pajamas. that's the easy part. the hard part is yet to come. yunho is strong, and heavy. and big. blush warms up your cheeks once again as your hands find the hem of his turtleneck. he looks dashing in the tight turtlenecks and slacks. but right now, you'd rather see him comfortable. he deserves it after all the hard work.

he only helps you by raising his hands and head in the air just enough for you to pull the top off. you drink in the sight of his muscles, while his torso is covered by an undershirt. you pull the pajama top over his head, then his arms, and finally fix the collar. your eyes then fall on his belt. swallowing thickly, your fingers unbuckle it, and it causes yunho to grab your hands and stop you.

"i'll do it."

"what? why?" you're disappointed.

"i'll do it faster. i'm getting pretty sleepy, we should go to bed."

no amount of pouting convinces him to let you continue. he is out of his slacks and into the pajama bottoms in no time, giving you no time to sulk on the bed. he scoops you in his arms, throwing the fuzzy blanket over both of you.

"good night, bunny."

"whatever." you mumble into his chest.

the hand that rests on your lower back sinks to your bottom, pinching it lightly. you squeal, jolting away from his hand and further into his body. "behave."

"sorry." your voice is a mumble again. "yunnie?"

"go to sleep."

"but yunho." you whine, fingers playing with the buttons of his top.

he sighs. "yes?"

"what am i to you?"

that yunho cannot answer. simply because he has worked so hard on the relationship you two have. if he tells you, he might ruin the illusion. and you might remember. you might remember that it is not normal to be tied up and locked in a stranger's apartment. after all, you don't know the true him. that makes him a stranger to you. he has ridden you of any desire you had to escape, and instead made you depended on him. he has destroyed you, scared you so bad to the point that you started seeing a friend in him. he doesn't know whether you woke up one day and accepted your fate and decided to play along with his sick and twisted games of emotions and obsession, or simply had a switch in your brain click and made you the way you are right now. a loyal and obedient little pet for him to gawk at, dress up however he wishes, and keep locked away where nobody can find it.

he knows it's not normal. he knows his sins. and he knows that behind the loving eyes you give him that there is hate pushed down so deep, scared to make an appearance. he has pushed it there with his own actions. he also knows that just because he recognizes his flaws doesn't make him less guilty. moreover, it makes him even more evil. he knows, yet he doesn't stop.

he wishes he can, really. he wishes he can untie you, let you go, live a normal life, find a girlfriend, stop sneaking out of his dorm at late hours and return at early ones. hell, he could've asked you out on a date instead of putting his hand over your pretty mouth behind the concert stadium and drag you into his car. but then everybody would see you. somebody might even want to take you away from him. and yunho can't allow that. you are his to see, his to touch and his to keep.

you belong to him, heart and soul.

"does it matter?" his voice comes out as annoyed, but it doesn't affect you.

"a little." you admit. "you don't kiss me, but you give me affection other ways. what does that make us?"

it makes you my prisoner, and me your captor. you just don't know it yet. or maybe you've grown blind to it. maybe i've broken your perception of how things actually are. maybe i've convinced you that this all is normal.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have asked." you notice how tense he is under your touch. "good night."

but yunho doesn't want to leave you without an answer. he kisses your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your ear. his lips stay there, brushing against the sensitive ear shell as his warm breath tickles you. "you're mine. that's all that matters."

"are you mine?" you ask.

yunho sighs, pulling you closer to him and completely wrapping his arms around your shivering body. "good night, doll."

you wake up in a cold and empty bed again. excluding the curled up rabbit next to you.

and you are furious.

blinded by rage, you reach for your phone, not even noticing that your hands are still untied. usually he'd tie them up while you are halfway asleep or completely asleep as to not disturb you. before you can press the call button next to his name, the bathroom door opens, revealing the man you were about to scold. he has discarded his sleep top, leaving him only in bottoms and a sleeveless undershirt.

"thought i heard you wake up." he smiles. "come, let's get you ready for the day. i let you sleep in enough."

the phone is forgotten in the blanket, and your legs carry you into the bathroom. he has a toothbrush in his mouth, and his hair is a fluffy mess. you love when he looks this soft. he is less intimidating. not that you are scared of your yunho. he wouldn't hurt you. only if you give him a reason to.

noticing your bare feet on the cold tiles, the man picks you up and places you on the counter near the sink. he hands you your own toothbrush after he squirts the paste on it. comfortable silence swallows the small bathroom, the only sounds being the teeth brushing and yunho's light humming to a song as he stands between your legs that hang from the counter, swinging along with yunho's song. his hand rests comfortably on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin below the dress.

you've noticed he loves your thighs. to touch them, to pinch them and caress them. and you don't mind. in fact, you love that he can't get his hands off you. it makes you feel attractive. you hope you are attractive to him. sometimes it doesn't feel like that. you look at him with loving eyes, and he... he looks at you like you're his most prized possession. you're just an eye candy. a doll he comes to play with and dress her up just to feast his eyes. perhaps the fault is in you. you don't attract him enough. it could be your appearance. you should switch from the comfy silk sleepwear he has gifted you in every colour so you can be comfortable around the house into something more appropriate and mature. or maybe it was your behaviour. you are so depended on him that you often end up feeling extremely childish.

yet he insists that he loves doing everything for you. he loves to see you in the pastels. he loves when you ask him for help. and he loves making you ask for help by closing the jars too tight, or putting the glasses on the top shelves where you can't reach even if you climb on a chair.

"hey." his finger playfully taps your nose, noticing you have stopped brushing. "where did you go?"

you shake your head, ridding your brain of the thoughts for a while. "sorry. were you saying something?"

"i said," he takes the toothbrush from your hand and continues brushing your teeth for you, holding your jaw in his palm and head in place, then continues talking, "we have a busy day ahead of us."

"sho... you're shtaying all day?" you mumble with foam in your mouth.

"i'm all yours today." he finishes brushing, then motions for you to spit in the sink. you do so, earning yourself a playful pat on the head. "good girl."

"you have a little stubble." you notice, fingers reaching to touch the short hairs on his face. it is not often that yunho lets you touch him like that, so when your hand cups his cheek, you are surprised when he simply looks at himself in the mirror with furrowed eyebrows. he doesn't remove your hand, and you savour every second of it.

"suppose i do. i should shave it off." the man runs both toothbrushes under the warm water, then sets them in the cup next to each other. his dark blue one with black bristles is a funny contrast to your lavender one with white bristles. it's like they resemble the two of you. maybe that's why he bought them. "want to help me?"

"help you?" you raise your eyebrow. he doesn't answer. instead, he hands you his razor, showing you how to properly hold it. while he smears the shaving foam on his face, you can't help but take secret glances at his exposed arms. he notices, then looks down at his undershirt.

"right, i should probably take this off." with one single motion, the fabric lands on the floor and he steps on it. you are left gawking at his bare torso. he doesn't usually undress in front of you. this is the first time you see his defined body. he looks absolutely dashing, and the sight makes your stomach feel fuzzy. you instinctively try to close your legs, but forget that he is standing right between them. "come closer."

you are now sitting on the edge of the counter, and if it weren't for yunho's hands holding your thighs and keeping your body steady, you would've kissed the cold tiles below his feet. he guides one of your hands to his face, then lets you figure it out on your own. you hesitate. "what if i cut you?"

"well... try not to, i guess." he shrugs. "i want to be pretty for you too. just as you do for me."

as gentle as possible, you swipe the razor over his cheek. it leaves a smooth trail behind, without any red lines or spots. little by little, your smooth faced yunho appears, and so does a smile on your lips. with one final swipe, you finish, not cutting him once in the process. "all done!"

"good job, bunny." he praises with a kiss to your forehead. "come on now, let's get you dressed. as i said, we have a busy day ahead of us."

when yunho said busy, you thought he meant cleaning the house or helping him with something. not standing in line at an amusement park with your hands untied. you haven't been outside in forever, if you exclude the balcony. today, yunho has decided to surprise you with a trip to an amusement park. he looks comfortable and fresh, wearing a simple black t-shirt with black ripped jeans, a leather jacket and sneakers. beside him, you are dressed up in his hoodie and his sweatpants, and his denim jacket. somehow, your clothes have been disappearing little by little, leaving you with only sleepwear. does it have anything to do with the fact that he likes to see you in the pastel sets he keeps bringing over instead of actual clothes? no, of course not.

yunho did make you promise him a few things before exiting the house:

no distancing yourself from him

no talking to other people

no looking at other people

no going anywhere without asking him first

no yelling each other's names

keep the sunglasses on your face

have your phone in your hand at all times in case anything happens and one of you needs to get a hold of each other.

and you happily agree. you wouldn't do the opposite even if he didn't make you promise all those things. yunho is all you have, and without him, you'd be overwhelmed and lose yourself. the place is enormous, everything shining bright into your eyes and looking the same. no wonder people get lost there all the time. or perhaps you're just used to the dark apartment that seems to be getting smaller and smaller each day you wake up.

"what would you like to do?" he asks once he shows the tickets at the entrance and guides you inside.

"me?" you are confused. "i- i don't know."

"we have two hours to have fun. we'll do whatever your heart desires."

"really?"

the eyes you give him as you look at him all excited is the reason yunho has you all to himself. those same eyes that have looked at him from the first row at the concert, and he could not look away. you smiled so bright at him when he gave you attention, and when he saw you outside of the stadium, he knew he had very little time. and he knew he had to take you for himself. you were so sweet, and so pretty. simple things excite you, and the sight of you almost beaming is what warms yunho's heart. then, he starts to think that he might've made a mistake by bringing you here. someone could see you, and take you away from him.

no. he will not allow it. he'd rather kill you than let anyone else have you. and that's a promise he made to himself the first night he tied the pretty knots on your wrists.

"yunnie...?" your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"hm?" he brings his attention back to you. your eyes have lost the excited glint, and are now filled with worry. his sudden serious face must've scared you. "right. what did you want to do?"

"can i try that?" you point towards a stand.

yunho isn't surprised when he turns around to see big stuffed animals hanging from the stand, and multiple small ones arranged on the shelves against the wall behind the vendor. "do you want to play by yourself?"

"can i?"

"you may."

you roll your eyes at his correction. but before he can scold you for it, you squeeze his hand and drag him to the stand. the game seems simple enough: three balls to throw, and three pyramids of different objects to topple. yunho pays the vendor, then stands aside and lets you focus.

"go pink koala." you whisper, keeping the balls close to your chest. you don't miss yunho's chuckle from the side. "hush! i'm concentrating."

but no amount of concentrating got you the big stuffed koala. even yunho was getting irritated as time passed by. not with you, but with the vendor. "are you kidding me?"

you stop mid throw, eyes darting to the tall man in fear. you haven't done anything wrong. ...have you?

"you're telling me that those plastic cups didn't budge?" he approaches the counter.

the vendor shrugs. "are they down?"

"well, no-" yunho starts.

"oh so you aren't blind. just stupid."

oh no.

you can almost hear yunho's blood boil beside you. your hands instinctively wrap around his arm, hugging it to your body. "yunnie."

"step back." he orders.

and you do, letting go of him. to anyone looking, that would've seem mean and horrible. but you know why he told you to stay away. he doesn't want to hurt you.

"you're telling me," yunho takes a ball from your hand, "that this ball," he aims for the vendor, "didn't even budge those plastic cups?" and hits him right in the forehead.

when yunho is loud, you aren't as scared. it is when he is calm that you are terrified. and right now? he is as calm as the stuffed animals sitting on the shelves behind the man who holds his forehead. yunho crouches to the floor, enough to pick up a ball sized stone. he aims for the first pyramid of plastic cups, and throws with such strength that it manages to bring them down. he takes a second one and does the same with the glass bottles, breaking them and sending shards flying everywhere. the third rock hits the clay mug at the bottom of the pyramid, causing it to ruin the balance of the rest of them and fall to the ground with a crashing sound.

"okay, okay!" the short vendor is desperate. "take the fucking prize and leave my stand!"

"with pleasure." yunho smiles with satisfaction. you don't have time to look at him in awe because he picks you up on his back and approaches the hanging stuffed animals. "go on, angel. help yourself."

your hands know where to go, immediately grabbing the pink koala that is half your size. when yunho doesn't set you down, you look at with a raised eyebrow.

"that's all you want?"

"i can take more...?" your eyes dart between the terrified vendor and an amused yunho.

"we can take the vendor if you want."

you're not sure what is funnier:, yunho's laid back attitude or the vendor's face. in one thing you are sure: you are taking that big grey elephant.

if someone had told you yesterday that today you'd freely walk around outside with yunho by your side, both carrying a big stuffed animal that made every child passing by jealous, you'd say ha, i wish. if someone had told you that today you'd hold hands with yunho as you pass by various stands and he offers to buy you anything from it, you'd say ha, you're crazy. and if someone told you that after a rollercoaster and a haunted house yunho would take you to the ferris wheel and demand that the cabin isn't to be shared with anyone, you'd say ha, your imagination is wild.

yet here you are, sitting inside the cabin high on the ferris wheel, stuffed animals sat across from you and leaning against each other. yunho sits by your side, a cup of chocolate chip ice cream that you have picked just before getting in line in his hand. there was a no food allowed sign, but yunho would rather fight the teen boy in charge of checking tickets than see your disappointed face again when you read the sign. luckily, a single glare from yunho was enough to stop the boy mid sentence as he read it out loud.

"i can feed myself you know." you pout as he brings the plastic purple spoon to your mouth. he specifically asked for that colour.

"i know." he simply replies.

"then... may i?" you reach for the paper cup, but he pulls it away. "please?"

"why?" he brings the spoon to his mouth once it starts melting off it as to not stain your - his - clothes. you blush furiously, the thought of eating off the same spoon as him making your stomach fuzzy. "i like to pamper you. besides, dolls need maintaining."

"they also need to be played with more often." you cross your arms over your chest.

he doesn't respond, instead offering you another spoonful of ice cream. you are distracted by his piercing gaze, unable to look away. it leads to you almost missing the spoon, making most of the ice cream land on your lips rather than between them. and it's like something switches inside of him. his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, and his hands set the cup down.

"do you have a napkin? i'm a mess-" you start licking your lips. before you can wipe the rest with the sleeve of the hoodie, yunho stops you by grabbing your wrists with one hand and looking deeply into your eyes, just before pushing you down on the seats with his other one on your chest so that you are laying with him on top. "what- what are you doing?"

"stay still." his voice is a mere whisper, a warm breath against your face. you gulp, a little louder than you intended. but he doesn't laugh. his face doesn't change. it is dead serious, with his brown eyes becoming as dark as his raven hair. his pupils are so diluted that they give the illusion of turning black. and you're not sure whether it is good or bad in this situation. "dollie..."

you lay perfectly still. the wheel has stopped, letting the visitors enjoy the view and take pictures. yunho, however, couldn't care less. not when he has you pinned down below him, hair beautifully splayed out, cheeks pink with blush, and eyes shiny and curious. and that damn ice cream on your bottom lip. he closes his eyes, then leans his forehead against yours. his nose gently brushes against yours, sending shivers down your spine and almost making you shudder. that, along with the way his one hand effortlessly holds both your wrists pressed into the leather seats has you seeing stars.

"fuck," he sighs against your lips. "fuck, what are you doing to me?"

"did i do something wrong?" the question is genuine.

"no, no." he shakes his head. "no. you're perfect. you're gorgeous. you're everything a man could ever want. you're everything i want."

he pulls away for a split second, eyes roaming your face for any signs of discomfort. when he doesn't see any, he licks his lips, then gulps.

"you're making me weak." his voice is velvet in your ears, gentle and soothing. his free hand moves the loose strands of hair out of your face, caressing your cheek in the process and continuing the path to your jaw to cup it. "and you don't even know it."

his plush lips capture your bottom one between them, tongue swiping across it to lick the ice cream off. you shudder beneath him, body arching off the seats and finding comfort against his warm chest. his hand lets your wrists go, as well as your jaw, only to find their comfort on your waist. you've never done this. yet your hands seem to move so naturally towards his hair, fingers sneaking between the soft locks and gently massaging his scalp as he nibbles on your bottom lip. a rush of heat takes over your stomach and the space between your legs. the feeling so good and new, yet so empty. you need more of him. you crave him now more than ever.

when he pulls away, it is because he needs to catch his breath, and so do you. his lips have turned a darker shade, and are so inviting to touch. and you do so, allowing yourself a moment of braveness. digits reach for his plump lips, the touch so light that yunho's lashes flutter. he can't help the desire that takes over his body and mind, pinning you further against the seats with his body and squeezing your bare waist underneath the hoodie. "you're killing me."

"how?" you didn't mean for your voice to come out so... pathetically raspy. you clear your throat. "is that bad?"

yunho chuckles in between shallow breaths. "god, you're so precious."

his lips lock with yours once again, leaving small and gentle kisses on them. until your tongue shyly peeks out to try the waters and be smooth like him. and it sends him over the edge. it makes him sit up straight and pull your body with him so that you sit on his lap, legs spread and resting on each side of him. one of his hands snakes further underneath the hoodie and follows a trail up your spine, feeling up your bare skin that burns and shivers beneath his metal rings. yunho can't keep his hands to himself anymore. he kisses you deeply, with his tongue chasing yours and seeking for a taste of you.

you taste him too, enjoying the mix of the chocolate chip ice cream and him. and he tastes better than you've ever imagined. he is intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more each time he pulls away to breathe. your body responds to him, seeking the warmth of his and aching to be held and touched. you are touch starved, and he is at fault. he might be able to redeem himself. especially when his lips take a detour from yours and continue down your jaw and to your neck. his hot tongue swipes down it, following an imaginary line and lightly grazing his teeth against your sensitive skin.

"yunnie..." you wish to call his name, but it comes out as a breathy moan. "please."

yunho pulls away, gulping once again. "what?" he breathes out.

"i- i don't know." you admit. "i need something. i need you."

"doll." he warns. "you can't say things like that."

subconsciously, your bottom lip sticks out in disappointment. you already know that he will playfully tug at it. except this time, he doesn't. he looks you with a gaze so intense that it makes you feel the smallest in the world. "sorry."

"love," the man sighs, regretting his tone. his hands cup your cheeks and bring your face close to his again, enough for him to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose. "i'd destroy you."

"what do you mean?" you should be scared. that can't mean any good, can it? just why are you squirming in his lap then, thighs aching to be pressed together and core burning up?

"oh, sweet little bunny." the realization hits him. you really are that sweet and innocent. "i just mean that..." he stops to think.

he won't be able to resist himself. and he doesn't want to hurt you. yes, he loves to see you cry. and yes, he has the twisted desire to see you split open on his cock as you cry and whine about how big he is, and how you can't fit him. to see pretty tears spilling down your cheeks as you enjoy the pain he inflicts on you, begging for more. he'd stop if you told him to, of course. he would never do anything to hurt you like that.

"you just mean that...?" you wake him up from his filthy fantasies.

his hands leave your body, only to rest on top of your hands which play with the zipper of his leather jacket. "i mean that you're not ready."

i just mean that i am not ready.

"you'll have to be a patient little doll. can you do that for me?" he tilts his head to properly look at you as your gaze is locked on his hands over yours. "angel?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, yunnie."

"that's a good girl."

the wheel continues spinning, just when yunho gently removes you from himself and lets you sit on your own. all flushed and hair messy, you turn towards the windows, hoping to fix the situation while you pretend to look at the view and hide from his eyes. a click echoes in the cabin. then another, and another. you turn around to find yunho taking pictures of you from the opposite seats, a soft smile on his face as you try to hide into the hoodie.

"stop, i look horrible!"

"one more, come on." he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand and making you look at him. he gets the perfect shot, your flushed face on full display, sitting so perfectly in his palm, with big eyes looking up at him. "perfect."

"my hair is a mess." you complain, hands struggling to fix the loose strands.

the dark haired man imitates your pout. "no pouting."

"i wasn't."

you jolt when his fingers tug on your bottom lip. he really loves doing that. "and no lying. you know how i feel about lying."

that you do. he hates lying more than anything. lies, white lies, being silent about things. it didn't matter. yunho hated it. your lips are too pretty to tell lies, he had told you once. truthfulness means a lot to him, and he appreciates it when it comes from you. "sorry."

seeing that he burst your bubble, he crouches in front of you, taking your hands in his and bringing them to his lips to leave a kiss on the back of each one. "i'll fix your hair when we get home. i promise."

the ride comes to an end, with yunho and you exiting last, each holding a stuffed animal. you walk beside yunho, content. you kissed him.

no, he kissed you.

yunho kissed you. it's everything you've ever desired for as long as you can remember. and it's better than you've imagined. his lips were indeed as soft as they looked, maybe even softer. his tongue a burning fire against yours, and hands molding your body like clay in his hold. you're feeling selfish, wishing for more. wishing that the wheel got stuck and left the two of you up there, continuing with the activity. as you look at his side profile - the one you can never get enough of looking at - you decide that you'll get more. you have to.

he has given you a taste, and you're already addicted.

"i need to use the restroom. sit here and wait for me." he places the stuffed elephant on a bench nearby, then the koala on the other end of it. he guides you so that you sit in between, occupying the bench and leaving no space for anyone else to sit. "i could just put you on my shelf and look at you all day long like this. stay here, got it?"

you're feeling foolish, having the whole bench to yourself. but what yunho says, you do. and you sit still, nodding your head playfully. "yes, sir!"

"i'll be right back. got your phone?"

"yes." you show it to him, secure in your hand.

"sunglasses?"

"on." you scrunch your nose, moving the sunglasses further up it.

"good. i'll be back in two minutes."

the feeling is strange. being outside, hands untied, a phone in your hand, and yunho not by your side. a light breeze caresses your hair, and the early setting autumn sun warms your face for one last time today. a once lost feeling creeps up on you, along with the fear of consequences. you've forgotten what it feels like. you've forgotten what free will is. you've forgotten what freedom is. and you haven't sought it for a very long time. and it haunts you, whispers in your ear, makes the hairs on your hands stand straight.

it lures you in.

it makes you stand up. take a step, then another. unsure at first, and a little wobbly. like you've forgotten how to walk without him. and then: you run.

you run through the crowd, around and behind the stands and tents, until your legs start to ache. you aren't used to this much cardio.

afraid that he might see you, you run into the nearest big tent. the entrance isn't the usual one, and you realize that somehow you've managed to sneak in through the exit. it takes a while for your eyes to get used to the dark. the place is poorly lit, with dark red lights illuminating the countless reflections that stare back at you. a mirror maze. out of all places you could've chosen.

you finally see your true form in the poorly lit mirror. hair a mess, face unrecognizable, wrists bruised. clothes that do not belong to you. and a pair of dark glimmering eyes that look at you from the shadows behind you.

"dollie."

how did he find you so quick? was he just testing you? testing your loyalty? did you even have a chance in running away? did you just let all that trust you built with him over the course of months or years fall into water?

but you won't let him catch you. and no amount of mirrors will stop you. you bolt for the exit, following the arrows on the floor that are upside down to you. you don't hear his footsteps behind you. perhaps it is your fear playing hallucinations on you. perhaps he is giving you a head start. or perhaps this tent was his plan too. for you to run in there, failing his test, and suffering consequences.

fear swallows you whole, causing your breathing to become shallow and fast, vision blurry, and legs and hands shaky. the faint red arrows aren't visible anymore, and you rely on putting your hands in front of you and touching your way out.

"i'm so disappointed with you, y/n."

no.

not the first name.

god, no. you can't do this again.

tears prickle your eyes, further blurring your vision. how could you have been so stupid? as if yunho is a fool. you've forgotten what he truly is. you've forgotten what you truly are. a prisoner, and its captor.

"i thought we were finally getting somewhere."

his voice is deeper than usual, echoing through the mirror maze. it makes you turn every few seconds, making sure that he isn't behind you, as if it wasn't enough to simply look at the mirrors in front of you. but your rising panic attack has your senses dull, and quickly you find yourself sobbing as you try to navigate through this torture labyrinth. every reflection is a punch to the gut, showing you your helpless frame and mocking you.

"you said you loved me."

he's close, then he isn't. you hear his footsteps, then you don't. and then, your eyes catch a glimpse of the tent's front opening up and closing. it's right there. just a few turns away. palms carelessly leave prints on the spotless mirror, and legs work hard to keeping your body up for just a little more. a few more turns. that's all you need to do.

a whiff of fresh air hits your face as you take a turn to the left, and you can smell the popcorn and cotton candy on the stands just outside the tent.

a hand is placed over your mouth, and another one around your waist, pulling you back harshly and colliding with another body. the feeling is all too familiar, repetitive even. nails desperately claw at his hands, but you know it's to no avail. you sob into his palm, tears streaming down your cheeks and continuing down his hand.

"you lied."

you are so stupid.

a light breeze caresses your cheeks. it is cold for your face, but your body seems to be warm and comfortable. even your hands. your eyelids peel open, and it takes a while to adjust to the dark. yunho's jacket covers your lap and hands, keeping you warm from the autumn breeze that enters through the rolled down window of his car.

yunho's jacket.

yunho's car.

yunho.

"no-" you gasp, jumping in the car seat.

yunho is quick to put a hand over your mouth. "hush. it's okay."

he doesn't keep it there long, removing it as fast as he touched you. he gives you time to look around and adjust to your surroundings. the first thing you notice is your hands, still untied, then, the street yunho is parked on. "what are we doing here?"

the man doesn't say anything. one of his elbows rests on his rolled down window, holding his head in his palm while his other hand plays with the lavender rope. you gulp, feeling the material on your wrists even though nothing is there. upon subconsciously rubbing your wrists, you notice that you don't wear his clothes anymore. you're wearing the clothes you thought were forever gone.

the concert outfit.

and the street? the street where you live. and your house at the end of it, the yellow trees preparing for winter and shedding their leaves.

"yunho...?"

he scoffs. "you never call me that."

you don't know what to say. you opt for silence, looking at your house in the distance and wondering why he has brought you here. then, you speak. "you kept my concert clothes."

"i kept all your things." yunho sighs, then reaches in the back seat to retrieve a backpack. the familiar scent of vanilla and whisky almost hugs you when he leans back to reach for it, his neck exposed and close to you. you ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach. "here."

he opens it for you, revealing all of your belongings, including your phone. it is smashed, and it doesn't turn on.

"i had to make sure nobody could find you." he confesses. "there's an envelope with money for the new one in the backpack."

"i don't understand..."

"you can go."

you can... go?

he is letting you go? willingly? your gulp almost echoes in the car. legs frozen, and mind a mess, you remain seated. yunho doesn't look at you. he keeps his gaze locked on a tree by the sidewalk, monitoring the swinging branches and falling leaves.

"don't make me change my mind."

it feels odd. unnatural. as if you'll wake up soon. the strange thing is that recently you haven't dreamt of running away from yunho. even now, as he is openly offering you freedom. your bottom is firmly planted on the seat.

"that's it? just like that?" you dare ask.

"yep." he still doesn't look at you.

"you don't have anything to say?" you push further.

"if you think i'm going to apologize, i am not." his eyes finally lock with yours. and it still makes your stomach flutter. "you should really go."

you are overwhelmed - no, overstimulated - by feelings and thoughts. you are angry, and sad. months or years of this odd relationship with him, being in an apartment and not stepping foot outside, locked away from the world, cut off from the social sites, completely at his mercy. eating what he offers you and wearing what he buys you. having contact with him only. trying not to go crazy when spending multiple days alone, sometimes a month too. all because you did something that he didn't like and he was punishing you for it.

and he drops you off at your house. simple as that.

hesitantly, your hand reaches for the door handle after unbuckling the seatbelt, only to find it locked. a sigh leaves yunho's lips, and within seconds, the windows are rolled up and the car starts. "dumb bunny."

"what?"

yunho steps on the gas pedal. his hands grip the wheel with such force that it turns his skin pale. the speed of the car and sudden turns make your body toss around in it. the seatbelt uselessly hangs on the side. "dumb." he takes another turn. "fucking." and joins the traffic on the highway. "bunny."

"i'm sorry!" you choke out, hands frantically holding onto anything you can reach. breathing becomes a challenge as your eyes follow the way he skillfully overtakes other cars, going way past the speed limit. "yunho! yunho, please!"

"i gave you a chance to prove your loyalty. to see if you regret using the chance and running away from me at the park. to prove that you love me, like you said it." he seethes. "and you reached for the handle."

"you offered!"

"doesn't mean you should've taken the offer!" he yells back. his voice is animalistic, deep as he almost growls the words and loud, sending shivers down your spine and coating your body in sweat. he glances at you, enough to make you start trembling. his eyes are pitch black under the lack of lights on the highway and dilated pupils from anger. "you're mine, you hear me? mine!"

"slow down," you sob, "please."

"i told you once, doll. if i can't have you..." he takes a sudden turn, exiting the highway and continuing into the forest that surrounds it. he avoids trees, driving between them and scaring the animals away, until he finally stops in front of the lake that is hidden among the greenery that is now swallowed by the dark of the night. "nobody can."

a blood curling scream leaves your lips as your eyes meet your doom. yunho drives the car into the lake at full speed.

he doesn't exit. he stays inside with you, calmly looking ahead of him as the front of the car slowly starts sinking. his seatbelt holds him in place, while you are left tilted along with the vehicle. trembling hands reach for the man. even in this moment, you reach for him.

"yunho..." your voice is a mere whisper. "yunho, please."

"nobody can have you."

"they won't." you assure him.

"nobody can have you."

"i'm all yours."

"nobody can have you."

"please don't kill me."

brown eyes finally look at you. his gaze softens at your flushed and wet face. he has control over the situation. you just don't have to know that. this is where he wants you: begging him to spare your life, making sure to let you know that he is the only one you have. that he is all you need. and that there is no escape other than death from that. he would rather drown with you than let anyone else have you.

"i want to live." you beg.

you can't help but feel comfort when his hands cup your face. ringed fingers brush your tear stained cheeks, and he can't help but lean in and press his lips to a fresh one that started its journey down your rosy skin. "you'll live. with me."

yunho leans his forehead against yours. his warm breath caresses your lips - a bittersweet refreshment of your memory. how can a man kiss so softly, but touch so roughly?

"tell me you're mine."

a sneaky glance helps you determine the current danger of the situation. you still have time to exit through the trunk. but it all depends on yunho. if he has decided to not let you go, nobody can help you with it. "i'm yours."

"good girl."

the familiar feeling of rope is back on your wrists. you'd be lying if you said that it didn't bring you comfort. the outside world seemed scary enough for you to embrace being locked in. yunho isn't the reason. he only did what he had to do to put some sense back into you.

the red rope is tied into a complex heart between your wrists, and yunho gives it a tug to tighten it and restrain you. "there. all done."

"it's pretty." you compliment. you don't ask why the rope is red. you know. you get the red one each time you do a foolish thing, so that every time you see it, you are reminded of how you let him down. "thank you, yunnie."

to your surprise, he loosens it, enough to slip it off your wrists and not undo the knot. he stands up from the bed, then gently removes the sleeping rabbit from your lap and sets it on the floor in the hallway near the cage and food, before coming back and offering you his hand to stand up. you are still soaking wet from the lake, with his hoodie hanging around your waist to warm your legs. you accept it, standing up and leaving a wet spot behind on the sheets.

"i'm sorry."

yunho only smiles, pressing a kiss to the hand he holds, and guides you to the bathroom. "don't worry about it."

you are surprised at the sight once your bare feet step on the cold bathroom tiles. the bathtub is filled with steaming water, and a few candles are lit around it. your hand is abandoned by his for a moment, just enough for him to shuffle through one of the drawers near the sink. a towel awaits for you, neatly folded on the stool near the tub. your hands untie the hoodie around your waist, letting it fall with a splat. little by little, the heavy wet pieces of clothes form a pile on the ground. by the time yunho turns around, you are left in only your underwear, body shivering from the midnight breeze that sneaks in through the tilted window. yunho stops in his tracks, eyes falling on your exposed skin that is illuminated by the soft orange light of the candles.

"uh," his gaze drops on two packages in his hands. you feel a boost of confidence storming through your veins. "i got you these bath bombs. which one would you like?"

"you pick." you shrug.

yunho looks still avoids you, turning his back towards you and approaching the tub. his hands unwrap the light pink one, dropping it in the water and helping it dissolve faster by making circular motions with his fingers on the surface. he doesn't stop until the clear liquid becomes a milky white with a pastel pink hue, with rose petals floating on the surface. "milk and rose. you'll like it."

to your disappointment, he passes by you without sparing you a glance. you can't help the hand that reaches for his, fingers intertwining and eyes that have proved themselves useful many times. he flinches, as usual. but he doesn't let go. "stay." the word comes out in a whisper.

"doll." he warns. "be good and-"

his eyes widen when you climb on your toes and rest your hands on his shoulder, lips lightly ghosting over his. you don't touch them yet. not when his hands grab your waist, and not when a sigh leaves his lips and caresses yours. only then do you finally press them against his. fingers are eager to play with his hair on his neck, and body leans against his chest to seek warmth and comfort. and the brown eyed man gives it to you, pulling you into him so that your cold skin can rest against his burning one. you can feel him, even though there is a layer of material separating you.

when your tongue peeks out to swipe over his bottom lip, yunho pulls away. you can't help the whine that leaves your lips. "you're going to be the death of me." he sighs.

"will you stay?"

"and do what?" he tilts his head playfully. "watch you enjoy your hot bath while i freeze?"

"you could join me-"

"no." he firmly says. and just like that, all you've done with the kiss has fallen into the water. his hands abandon your body, only to find your clip that he has put there himself once he helped you out of the lake. your hair is still damp, and it falls loose when he takes the butterfly clip off. it was his favourite one. "go."

"but yunnie..."

"bunny."

"you won't see me naked." you finally say.

one of the rules with yunho was that you are not to see each other naked. even now, with only your underwear on, you were pushing it. yunho made sure to let you know that he doesn't want such things with you. you only need to sit pretty for him and be obedient.

"please? you can turn around while i undress and turn back when i get into the tub."

"you still haven't answered my question. what will i do while you enjoy your little bath?" he turns around, letting you free yourself from the damp underwear. they join the pile on the floor, right next to yunho. his eyes fall on the discarded panties, and he has to close his eyes and breathe in to keep his composure. you've come a long way from being too shy to ask for a glass of water.

"you promised you'd fix my hair."

once he hears the water gently splashing, he turns around. the water is murky, hiding your bare body from his hungry eyes. while you settle down in it, yunho wastes no time in getting a hairbrush and bringing the stool to the tub so that he is behind you and the only way you can face him is by leaning your head against the rim of the tub. he places a smaller towel on it so that your neck doesn't hurt while you lean back. "clever girl."

you fail to hide the proud smirk on your face. a sigh leaves your lips when yunho's fingers sink into your hair and massage your scalp. you can't believe that those same hands almost dragged you to death just two hours ago.

"stay still." his voice is a whisper. you haven't even realized that your head was leaning into his touch, dragging your body out of the water and exposing you just above your breasts. you sink back in, covered all the way to the shoulders. "good girl."

his voice has never sounded so husky and... deep. manly. a warm sensation pools at the bottom of your stomach, and seems to start bubbling and getting hotter when your fingers brush against your thighs. it is not the first time that yunho does your hair. he loves doing it. but something about him doing it right there and then had your mind spinning. you tilt your head back to glance at him. the sight is both cute and funny: yunho dressed in all black, with a serious and focused expression as he does the familiar braid in your hair, and a lavender scrunchy on his wrist. soon enough, he pulls that scrunchy off his wrist and ties your hair with it, then keeps it in his hand to play with it.

"my pretty girl." he coos. his other hand reaches to caress your cheek, and a smile spreads on his lips, seeing how your body immediately responds to his touch. you sigh in content, nuzzling your face further into his warm hand. "do you trust me?"

"yes," you respond, lost in the way his hand trails down your neck and grazes your collarbones. "yes, i do."

yunho hums. your braid is left to hang in the air while he reaches for something. you trust him. which is why you keep your eyes closed, not bothering to see what he is doing. a gasp leaves your lips when you feel something hot on your collarbones, and your eyes shoot open.

yunho holds a candle above you, tilting it so that hot wax drips on your body. the feeling is strange. the pain is there, yet it adds to the fuel between your legs. he sets the candle back on the flat rim of the tub, then reaches for another one. "yunho-"

"you can take it." he encourages. he tilts it again, and you can't help the shuddering sigh that leaves your lips when it falls on your chest, grazing your tense nipples. "does that feel good, dollie?"

you can only nod while your fingers reach to touch your sensitive breasts. they accidentally graze the perky buds, and if you didn't bite your lip in time, yunho would know what you were doing under the murky water.

"words, precious." he tilts the candle again, more wax coating your collarbones and neck as his other hand still caresses your cheeks. "let me hear you."

"it feels good, yunho."

yunho usually hated when you used his full name. he loved your nickname. but now, as he listens to you say his whole name in almost a breathy moan, he can't help but gulp and bite his inner cheek. "one more."

fingers trail from your breasts to your core, digits eagerly pressing into the plush folds and giving you a lick of satisfaction. when yunho brings a fresh candle to your body, you can't help the impatient whimper that leaves your lips, causing him to lose it and pour it all at once on you. his pants tighten at the sight, dried wax coating your burning skin, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes rolled back. your head is still resting on the rim, tilted so that he can look at your pretty face that has a warm orange hue due to the candles.

then, he notices the water moving. and he notices your hand that has disappeared under it. yunho yanks your braid, making your eyes widen. "are you touching yourself?"

you know better than to lie. but you also know how much yunho doesn't like when you touch yourself. he gets jealous, he says. yet he won't ever touch you. your hand freezes between your legs, but no matter how slowly you try to remove it, yunho already knows. it doesn't fix the damage.

"stupid little bunny."

as if you want him to meet his end, your eyes become glossy with tears, and your bottom lip quivers. he didn't mean to make you cry. but you knew the rules. and you never broke them. sometimes you'd threaten that you would, only to rile him up and make him give you attention. you've never actually done it. now that you did, yunho is baffled. he hates that he wants to keep watching. he doesn't need to look at your body. your face is enough.

"i'm sorry." your voice trembles.

then, yunho's gaze hardens. it makes you worry for a split second, until his hands reach for your knees that peek out of the water. he separates them, slow as ever, and you swear you hear his breath hitch. "keep going."

"what?" you blink your tears away, to his disappointment.

"i want to watch." his eyes are fixed on yours. when you start rising from the water to give him a view, yunho shakes his head. "i want to watch you enjoy it."

you should've known by now that he has odd requests and ways of doing things. like insisting on feeding you. holding your hand or carrying you when going to another room. putting your hair in a clip by himself. choosing which clothes you'll wear for him. this, however, you did not experience yet.

"go on, pretty. i'll guide you." his soft lips leave a kiss on your forehead. "but you'll have to talk to me when i say something to you. got it?"

"yes, sir."

he nods as a sign to keep going. he doesn't have to do anything else, because your fingers are back on your folds. he gently tugs at your braid; a sign to stop. "patience." he growls. "cup your pretty breasts for me. don't touch your nipples just yet."

back to the start. your hands obey his command, and soon enough, your thighs find themselves squeezing together and rubbing against each other. fed up with your impatience, yunho separates your knees once again, now keeping his hands firmly planted there.

"tell me," he whispers into your ear, "if it was me touching you..." he trails.

you whimper at the thought.

"what would you want me to do next?"

your imagination runs wild. you'd want him to do everything. the things you can't even say out loud. things that would surprise him. so you settle for a simple one. "kiss me."

he chuckles. "that i can do."

he teases first, lips hovering over yours instead of touching. "please." you breathe out.

"touch yourself for me." he demands. "soft circles on your pretty buds."

when you do so, he finally presses his lips into yours. it is needy, and hot. the way his teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging it and nibbling on it while your fingers work on yourself. small whines are swallowed by his hungry kisses, muffled by his hot tongue against your inexperienced one. he guides you by slowing down and letting both of you savour every lick and nibble. if you weren't in the water, you are sure you'd be burning up.

one of his hands abandons your knee and reaches for yours that grips the bathtub rim, and he guides it back under the water and to your core. he only touches your hand, careful not to accidentally graze your thighs or your slick core. your fingers move with his help, slowly circling your clit and removing them when he feels your body become tense. he denies the sweet pleasure multiple times, enjoying the way you squirm under him and whine into his lips.

"yunnie-"

"yunho." he growls. "call me by my name."

"please, please, please." you chant. "yunho, please."

"sensitive?" he asks, knowing the answer. this time, yunho pulls away, opting to admire your face and finally focusing on you. "i'll make you feel so good, doll. make you wish for nobody but me."

"please do." pleas don't stop leaving your mouth. under other circumstances, you'd feel pathetic. but right now? you are ready to get on your knees and beg. "touch me."

"i can't." he stops.

you groan in frustration, losing the orgasm once again. "why not? why won't you ever touch me? why do you keep me if you won't do anything with me? am i ugly to you? am i that unappealing? am i not enough sexually attractive? am i too inexperienced for you? is there someone else? if there is, why am i here? what do i have to do to-"

in a single motion, yunho pulls you out of the water. it splashes everywhere, including his clothes. the look on his face changes. he is furious. you are pulled into the room, water dripping behind and leaving a trail all the way to the bed. he doesn't seem fazed by the fact that you are completely naked in front of him, and that he has seen you, and thus, broken his own rule. yunho throws your body on the bed, then reaches for the red ropes on the night stand.

"no, no-" you regret your words. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean it!"

"shut the fuck up." he growls. your wrists are back in the ropes, and he wastes no time in tightening them. he turns your body around so that you lay down on your stomach, and then pulls your braid so that your head is tilted back, just like in the bathtub. "look at me."

"yunho, please-"

"look." spank. "at." spank. "me." spank.

eyes finally lock with his. even through the blurry vision, you can see just how dark they have become. you always do this. you build something, little by little, and then you become greedy and ruin it. "i'm sorry."

"what do you want?"

silence. the pain on your scalp softens, with yunho loosening his grip. his brows are furrowed, and you know you've made him more furious than ever, just by the look on his face. "what?"

"do you want me to touch you?"

"i-" you do. it's all that's on your mind right now. he had given you a taste, and you want it all. "yes."

"after all i did to you?"

this time, you are the one whose brows are furrowed. he does know what he did to you. and he does acknowledge how bad it is. yet all of it doesn't stop your body aching for his. soul yearning for his. mind longing for his. you want yunho in every way possible. you want him to be yours, as much as you are his. only then will you be happy, and only then will you stop with the tantrums.

"yes." you confirm.

"oh, doll." he turns you over again, this time gently. finally, he looks at you. all of you. he can't help the hand that reaches to caress your wax covered collarbones and chest, traveling down your stomach and to your thighs. "if i touch you how i want now..." he trails, gaze locked on your shivering body. "you'll belong to me only."

"don't i already belong to you?" you point out.

"you don't understand." he shakes his head. "i'll make it so that your body only responds to me, even when we are out in public. i'll make it so that your mind doesn't dare to think of other men. i'll mold you so that i am your only match, mentally and physically. i'll make it so that your walls mold to the shape of my cock, and can only take me and nobody else. i'll make it so that you cry from pleasure every time i get my hands on you, and i set high standards for you, that even if you tried to cheat, you'd be disappointed and crawl back to me."

"yunho-" you breathe out, gulping at his words.

"i'll spoil you. i'll kiss you. i'll fuck you. i'll do anything you ask me to. just..." the man looks deep into your eyes before he removes a stray strand from your face, tucking it behind your ear. he places his hand under your chin, raising your head so that you can properly look at him with those glossy eyes of yours. "promise me."

"promise you what?"

"promise that you belong to me. me and nobody else."

"i promise." the words come out in a whisper.

he shakes his head, not satisfied with the answer. "say it."

"i belong to you, yunho. my body and soul is yours." finally, he is satisfied. "under one condition."

he raises one eyebrow, surprised at your request.

"you can have me as long as i have you."

"you have me."

"no, i don't. not like i want to. what if you meet somebody prettier? more interesting? i've seen your coworkers. they're all gorgeous. i can't compare to them. what if you decide you want a normal relationship and grow bored of me?"

one confession after another has yunho's gaze softening. he wishes for nothing more than to press his lips against yours and kiss you like there is no tomorrow. but he has suppressed your feelings and opinions enough. "i would never get bored of you. you think i went to such lengths for something that is temporary?"

"then why don't you ever touch me?"

"because," his finger stops the fresh tear from rolling down your cheek, "once i have you, i won't be able to keep my hands off you."

"i don't want you to keep your hands off me." you hastily admit. he opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him by capturing his lips with yours. he relaxes into it, letting you lead by simply opening his mouth and inviting your tongue in. he is already burning for you, as are you for him. you pull away for a moment. "you said multiple times that you like to pamper and take care of me. now you can properly show it to me."

"i will take good care of you." he breathes out, gracing you with a hot kiss to your lips before trailing down your jaw and neck. "i will be everything you could want or need." his teeth graze the collarbone, making your hands snake around his neck. "i will be yours as much as you are mine."

his tongue peeks out, creating a path between your breasts, down your stomach, until he reaches your pulsating core. his hands rest on your waist, keeping your body firmly planted on the wet mattress. it is odd seeing someone like yunho be mesmerized by something. seeing his eyes locked to your glistening folds and bottom lip trapped between his teeth made your stomach erupt with butterflies. he is still holding back.

suddenly, the red rope catches his attention. you are still tied up. but when he goes to undo the knot, you stop him. "i want to keep them on. so you know i truly belong to you."

"doll..." voice pure velvet, yunho looks at you from between your legs. "what do you want me to do?"

you think. and think. but really, it is that simple. "everything you wanted to do, but you held back."

"you don't know what you are asking for." he warns.

"you said you'll do anything i ask." you remind him of his words spoken just minutes ago. "i ask you to not hold back."

with a groan, yunho pulls your body to the edge of the bed, burying his head between your thighs and inhaling your scent before letting his tongue taste you. immediately, your back arches off the bed, and tied up hands reach to grab his hair. the grip he has on your thighs to keep them apart is strong. so strong that you know they'll bruise.

"fuck-" his fingers spread your folds, leaving your sensitive clit exposed to his flattened tongue. "fuck!" you cry out.

he barely slides one finger inside your tight walls, and you can already feel the orgasm rushing. he has denied it many times today already, and he decides to be merciful and close his lips around the bundle of nerves and suck until you fall apart on the bed and his tongue. he doesn't give you a break, instead pulling his mouth away from you and sliding another finger inside. "so pretty."

digits easily find the plush button on the upper wall, caressing it and stimulating it to the point of making you cry from pleasure. tears spill down your cheeks, hands grip at the sheets, and body arches from the bed while your walls clench around him. when you look down to beg him to give you more, you choke on your breath. yunho humps the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on the way your walls swallow his fingers as he chases his own release. "yunnie..."

"yes, pretty girl?"

"you're humping the mattress while i am here?"

"you look and taste so sweet. i don't want to ruin it." he admits.

a laugh escapes your lips, and is interrupted by a moan when his other hand rests on your overstimulated clit. "i want you."

and just how can yunho say no to you?

"i'll try to be gentle." vision blurry and mind hazy, you don't question how fast yunho has taken his clothes off. he is on top of you, planting a kiss on your forehead before guiding his aching cock to your entrance. you clench before he even slips inside, making it harder for his wide length to separate your walls. inch by inch, yunho gets lost in the feeling of you, and can't help but slam his hips into yours. a cry meets his ears, making him realize what he did. "oh, doll. i am so sorry."

"it's alright." you assure, a hiccup betraying you.

"you feel..." he pulls away, only to slide back in again in a gentler motion and let out a satisfied hum. "oh, you feel heavenly."

all you can think about it the bulge in the bottom of your stomach. you feel him deep, and it is as enjoyable as it is painful. he is thicker than you've imagined, or ever seen, and he splits you open so beautifully, easily gliding in and out. "i want... i want..."

"you're a drooling mess, dollie." he teases. and he isn't wrong. you are so intoxicated by his smell, his touch, and the way he gazes at you, that you can't do anything else but lie down and take what he gives you. "fuck, i'm not going to last long. that doesn't usually happen."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

yunho picks you up by your waist, angling your body off the mattress and finally snapping his hips into yours, reaching into the places you never knew you had and drawing cries and moans from you. "say my name." he growls against your neck, the sticky tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each snap.

"yunho," you gasp.

"louder." snap.

"yunho," you try, but you are weak already.

"louder." he yanks at your braid, sending delicious pain to your scalp and inching you closer to your release. "say my name. tell me who you belong to. tell me who's fucking you right."

"yunho!"

"good, good girl." he praises, and finally, lets you relax as he helps you reach the peak and spill. "i'll ruin you for anyone else."

it takes you over the edge of the peak, making your body explode with pleasure that rushes all the way to your toes, fingers and scalp. you shake under his touch, riding out the waves of pleasure while he still works on getting himself to orgasm.

it doesn't take long, seeing your state of flushed cheeks, half closed eyes that lazily gaze at him, and the knot between your wrists. he spills into you, filling you to the brim and pulling out, only to squirt the remains on your abused clit. warm seed spills out of your hole and onto the mattress. you don't protest when his fingers collect the white fluid, only to push it back in.

"fuck, you really are perfect." he kisses your cheeks, then your forehead, and finally, your lips. "i guess i'll go run you another bath."

"guess so," you laugh. you watch him run into the bathroom and get his phone from the nightstand in the process, and can't help but glance at his tushy when he walks. "and yunho?"

"hm?"

"i meant what i said. i am yours, as long as you are mine."

"yes, doll." his eyes are fixed on the screen, and he is lucky he is hidden in the bathroom. he skims over the message over and over again, wondering whether he was reading it right. if you weren't right there, he would've thrown the phone at the mirror. it was as if his reflection was taunting him. smiling at him. freaking him out.

hongjoong: i know what you did, yunho. i gave you enough time to correct your mistakes or admit to it. if you don't want the police involved, you better set the poor girl free and we'll never talk about this again. last chance.

they know what he did. and they won't be afraid to rat him out. but no matter what promises he made to you today, one thing is still clear:

if he can't have you, nobody can.

and if hongjoong tries to take you away from him, may all deities help him.

2K notes · View notes

zorange13 · 2 months ago

Text

— love island, enhypen edition

enha as the islanders x afab reader (hyung line). | maknae line

warnings/content. suggestive content, got WAYYY carried away with jake’s part, slowburn, reality tv au, YEARNINGGG, romantic competition, half-cheating, angst, light e2l, swearing, jealousy, insecurity, drama-heavy (duh)

lightly proofread, i did NOT sleep to write this lmao.

word count: 7.2k

inspired by the aot edition from @rynfiles, pls check them out!!

Heeseung 이희승

def a smooth ass talker, so charismatic

such a heartthrob

would be a fan favorite at first

an OG and would partner up with whoever he wants

also prob have a kiss by the end of the first episode

knows he’s hot and would honestly use that to his advantage to get to know everyone, esp in early days

genuinely so funny and would be one of the guys that gets along well with both the boys and girls

however, he would be a lil bit of a fuckboy, but he would feel so bad about it after watching the show back at the end.

being a libra, hee is naturally (and sometimes unintentionally) very flirty to the point where a girl might think she is being led on. even if he’s just trying to be nice.

cue one of the girls saying, “idk like heeseung and i just seem to have a good connection.”

10 minutes later he’s tonguing down another girl.

so him and his first pairing would just end in a pretty messy situation

fans start to not fw him

he would be in couples and stay throughout the whole show just because he’s good tv.

he’d be on the chopping block a few times but would somehow the producers would find something to save him (rob cough cough)

fans love to hate him

but wouldn’t truly fall head over heels until about week 3 and really hit it off with a girl. no one else matters to him at that point

you’d be a bombshell (duh)

but by the time casa amor comes around and he wants to close things off, the girls would be gone by that point

he’d be fuming

but then when the casa girls come, he’d be like ‘nah, i miss my girl’

but his head would be slightly turned by one of them

maybe a kiss or two, heavy petting unfortunately

but then when the girls are sent the video of what the boys have been doing…

best believe heeseung would get his ass handed to him at the recoupling

wouldn’t be able to look at you, once he sees the look in your eyes was when it hit him.

he wouldn’t bring anyone back though!!

you would put a pillow between them

fans kinda hate him at this point, like bro is public enemy #1

but he would do anything to win you back

i’m talking on HIS KNEES, yearning !!

a clip on tiktok would go viral of him for that

“if i have to show you why you’re the one for me, i’ll do it again. over and over again until you want me. i don’t care what it takes. i can’t let you go.”

fans would swoon, then hate themselves for liking him again (real asf)

kordell and serena coded as far as the casa situation

days of nice gestures until you felt you wanted him to stop

he would (try to) make you breakfast and bring it up to the beauty room; giving you a kiss on the side of your head as he left. saying “i know you like your eggs scrambled and your coffee light and sweet”

it would prob taste terrible it’s the thought that counts

the girls would giggle after he got far enough from the door, but you didn’t pay much mind

making you cheese toasties in the middle of the day when he “just so happens” to hear that you’re hungry.

after days of groveling, you cave when he enlists jay and jake to help him make your favorite food for candlelit dinner by the beach.

“i know i fucked up, i know that i hurt you badly. but please, if you give me this chance to prove that i’m not just some asshole, i will be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“boyfriend?”

“boyfriend.”

would have the hideaway for the night

would def make use of the toys in there

can see y’all being in the final 4

final date is horseback riding and dinner at one of the luxury resorts in fiji

his finale speech would send twitter in a spiral

“i came in here not expecting anything from this, just a fun time. just a free vacation and beautiful women. i seriously thought that i was on my way out because i had burnt all of my bridges. but when you showed up, i just—” sighs, trying not to let himself get choked up. “I knew you were so out of my league. even now you are, i felt like a guy like me didn’t deserve a woman like you. you’re not scared to call me out on my bullshit, you make me laugh, you made me earn you. despite all of the bullshit i put you through, you extended grace and there’s nothing more i could ask for from you and that will be the last time i ever ask you to extend me that much. but that look in your eye told me everything that i needed to know. watching that clip of you cry in the girl’s arms during movie night was all that i needed to know that i will never in my life, do anything to make someone i love feel like that ever again. you’re it for me, and no matter what happens tonight, win or lose; i’m a winner because I get to walk out with you.”

“love?”

“love.”

would have the whole villa in TEARS

reformed fuckboy™ + the queen who tamed him = they don’t even need to win

runners-up!!

Jay 박종성

the most chill one there tbh

og and would pair with who he liked

but they would burn out not from drama, but they realized there was a lack of chemistry

wouldn’t stir much drama but WOULD PULL for sure

he knew what he signed up for of course but is more of slow burner

he doesn’t like to entertain someone he isn’t interested in if he knew there was someone else he might like more

if his heart isn’t in it, he’s not gonna waste your time or his own

so he’d just be honest and the girls would love him for that

grows close with a lot of them and even offers advice when needed

blunt, but transparent and the fans like him

such a breath of fresh air from all of the weird, sneaky boys

the type that you would def know if he liked you

would somehow end up making out with one of the bombshells in soul ties, they couple up

the chef™

is always the one helping out with dinner

the girls always ask him to make them something because they know he’d never say no

isn’t the life of the party but is never a buzz kill

knows how to have fun and will always be there to have a good laugh.

would fizzle out with that bombshell

“you’re cool and so gorgeous. i just don’t feel anything deeper and i’m sorry.”

bombshell would be understanding not take it personally, she’s more into heeseung anyway lmao

kinda goes on aimlessly

would end up kissing one of the og girls (you) during a challenge in week 2 and holy shit

he liked it a lot more than he’d expect

wouldn’t know how to handle it and would feel like shit

i mean it’s only week 2 but weeks here feel like months

so technically, everyone’s been dating for 2 months !!

would talk to jake and would eventually just approach you about it. better to live with no regrets

“hey, can i pull you for a chat?” he says to you as you’re lounging on one of the day beds.

“of course,” you stood up and he ruffled your hair with a smile as y’all walked to one of the swinging benches.

“so remember when we kissed earlier? in the challenge?”

“yeah? i’m sure i’d remember who i kissed.”

oh…he liked this girl for real now

your own couple wouldn’t be too solid either seeing as it was so early but not

still wanted to be respectful though !!

nonetheless you end up recoupling and that guy gets sent home

sad to see a friend of his go home but very happy that he could love on his girl openly now

so head over heels, still makes the girls food because he’s a gentleman

but he brings you full on meals!! steaks, ribs, chicken (fried, baked, grilled, doesn’t matter !!! your wish is his command) the most they were getting out of him was a cheese toastie, they’ll be lucky if they get a piece of meat on it

you would def have a ‘my man, my man’ attitude after that which he lowkey loved

the girls made jokes about how they lost their personal chef and would start hassling their men to cook for them

you left a note on your mirror for him before you dipped for casa.

“i’m not the best at goodbyes, but i didn’t want to leave without saying something. thank you for being so good to me, for being real with me, and for making me feel like i matter here. i know things aren’t always easy to say, but i’m happy with you. i hope you’re doing okay while i’m gone, and i’ll be thinking about you. can’t wait to come back to you.

p.s. the food’s not the same without you here.”

then left a kiss in his favorite lipstick of yours on the mirror next to the note

he was irritated at no goodbye but tried to maintain some sort of sanity

after all the guys all filed out of the beauty room, he kissed the mark you left on the mirror and considered that his parting kiss

grab the note to put it in his pocket and keep by his bed to look at

he also saw you left the lipstick right on the vanity so he took that too

TWITTER WOULD SPIRAL !!!

the casa girls came and they came with the heat let me tell you

but he didn’t give in no no no

though he WAS tempted

he was chatting by the firepit with one of the casa girls and she leaned in to kiss him

he ALMOST fumbled

but he was solid, the plastic component of your lipstick in his back pocket a reminder of who was gonna be waiting for him on the other side

gently shoots the girl down for giving her the wrong impression, “i’m sorry if it seemed like anything else but i miss my girl and i just don’t think kisses outside of challenges are appropriate.”

very respectful

but the girl does not take too kindly to it

he doesn’t care because he likes you

he’s not trippin because like…can she fight? lmao

makes it back to the villa in one piece !!

is running back to you

fidgeting at the firepit because didn’t want to stand there to wait for y’all to officially full on be a couple again

kissing you down when he gets to you

making everyone hold their hearts at the cuteness

closes off with you that night and are the first ones to get in the hideaway !!

everyone voted you guys to go

you wore this amazing baby blue lingerie and he almost lost it

he put you in them fuzzy pink handcuffs that night

everything is smooth sailing

in the final 4

final date is dinner on a yacht then jet skiing on the sunset

then at the finale he would also give a speech that is so cute but so him!!

“i’m not good at words but that’s not an excuse to give a subpar speech because you deserve more than that. you have been so solid and wonderful through this whole experience. i never expected after 2 weeks it’d be me and you but i’m glad we got to harvest a friendship first.” He blushed, looking away from you as you laughed and gave him his time to simmer down. “i’d fall in love with you in any universe. the same way how i’d cook you anything you’d ask me to because you simply deserve it. you deserve to be treated like royalty and you know with me, i’m gonna deliver. you don’t have to lift a finger. you don’t have to worry about anything. not money, not my loyalty, my honesty. you came here to get the man you deserve and i’m here to give you that, baby.” would lift your hand to kiss it as he asked, “will you let me be your boyfriend?”

twitter meltdown—simple as that.

the producers picked good men this season…

y’all won and split—well actually, he gave you all of the prize money !!

every. last. dime.

there’s nothing other to describe him as perfect—he was patient, didn’t hoe around, had intentions and pursued you when it mattered the most.

ofc he’s the fan favorite and y’all are talked about online for forever as one of the best couples to come out of love island

Jake 심재윤

one of the sweetest guys there like seriously

cinnamon roll™

another og

it’s physically impossible to hate him

fans are swooning because they’ve never seen this many hot guys on love island at once

especially when all of them are heartthrobs and have so much potential

jakey is so beloved by the guys because he’s just…a bro

BUT HE GIVES GREAT ADVICE and is pretty chill

also knows how to have fun and is usually the one (besides heeseung) to like initiate a game or something fun to do

the villa can get boring when y’all are just sitting around all day

as for the girls, he gets along very well

he knows he’s good-looking but he doesn’t do too much

that accent gets them

very humble

all of the girls have wanted a piece of him at one point and quite frankly none of them were his type ???

“hey…bro…” he’d say to them, as he sat down with them during chats

so the girls just stayed his friend and didn’t want to embarrass themselves further

went through a depressive period for a few weeks

coupling with girls just to stay alive

until a bombshell, you,—came in.

he legit had all of the guys come to the firepit so he could tell them you were off limits

they listened, except for one

that bastard

some drama arose as there was gonna be a recoupling that sent one of the guys home

this only further incentivized jake to pursue you harder

“hey, can i steal you for chat?” he approaches you as you sat in the kitchen talking to the other guy

he didn’t feel bad, as you said “of course,” he made sure to give the guy a sly look as he placed his arm around your waist as you followed him up to soul ties.

fans loved him even more now: “ok jakey going after what he wants!!!!” “nah ngl if a cinnamon roll looked at me like that i’d self eliminate fr lmao” “well he said she was off limits *shrug emoji*” “he can’t even be mad at jake like he hasn’t had not one connection the whole time. let him get the girl he wants !!”

he knew he couldn’t sit on his ass and wait for you to come naturally

as he got to know you, he realized you were like him

a hot geek!!

you loved math and science just like him

you were always correcting people

and somehow you loved the same shows and movies

it’s like you’re him, just the girl version!!

needless to say, he falls fast and hard

he knew how to cook pretty well, so he would make you breakfast every morning

hot chocolate, with big marshmallows and a waffle

all made from scratch of course!! he took some pointers from jay ;)

the other guy continued to pursue you, to which he encouraged you

he knew what he was there for but who was he to limit you to one connection?

“i’m here for you and i know what i want. but i’m also never gonna tell you to put me above you; if you feel you want to explore then go handle that.” he told you as you settled in between his legs, back against his chest on one of the daybeds. you had your eyes shut as you leaned your head on his shoulder as gently caressed your leg with one hand and your arm with another. relishing in the serenity of the feeling and the waves crashing against each other.

this is right when you knew you weren’t going anywhere

fans also ate this up: “i just need someone to hold me like jake holds her and i’ll be ok, i promise” “i would let him do the most unspeakable things to me, Lord forgive me” “just give me 3 minutes.”

was some part of him anxious as hell? absolutely, but he meant what he said

it was up to you, either way someone was going home

so when you got a text later that afternoon, you read it aloud to everyone (basically screaming it but it’s ok)

“it’s almost decision time! you must decide where your heart lies. tonight, you will choose who you want to couple up with, and one guy will be sent home. solve for x and see where you end up! #toobadsosad #makingupforlosttime #gotmyanglesonyou”

you flustered at the reminders of the conversations you and jake were having

but it was funny nonetheless

that night at the firepit, you had never see jake so distraught

he spaced out which he like never does but now it was time for you to make your choice

you stood up in your heels, almost shaking but maintaining composure

“i would like to couple up with this boy because he has been so amazing and consistent since my time here.” jake listened to you intently as you spoke, hopefully trying to pick up on something that could indicate that you’d pick him.

“we also get along really well and i feel that in the short time that i’ve been here, we’ve been able to get on pretty well. i know that if we have a chance to further this connection, then something great will be able to come from it.”

ok, he was getting hopeful

“we bond over so many things, and i feel like we mirror each other. people say that it’s hard to be with someone that’s just like you. however, studies show that 89% of couples share the same values and similarities, making them successful and at a lower rate of divorce.”

your fellow islanders laughed at your random, yet endearing factoid

jake just tilted his head as he stared at you lovingly, “that’s my girl,” he whispered to himself

“so the boy i’d like to couple up with is…”

fingers crossed

surprise. “jake.” you said with a bright smile on your face.

jake wanted to run to you and kiss you until his last dying breath

BUT he had some sort of couth

he dapped up the guy that he was standing by, he didn’t want to because he felt he was an asshole but still. respect.

then he walked over to you with the brightest smile in the world and hugged you so tight you almost complained but you let him have his moment. “you’re so amazing, baby. you’re mine now,” his whispered into your ear. the mic just barely picked it up.

he pulled back and gave you the gentlest kiss you’ve felt in your life, that you barely even felt

viral moment

it was hard to watch the guy pack his stuff

yes, he knows that he got you now but after coming to his senses in a way, the guy just wanted to find love the same way they all did

they ended up having a conversation before he left and they squashed the beef

later that night, you and jake showered together

made sure to lock the door, there was like 8 other bathrooms in this big ass house

the others could use another one

BUT it was nothing freaky deaky

just gentle, intimate

you detangled and washed his hair for him

granted it was very hard to keep his hands off of you

just this perfect body in front of him in this big ass shower where he had ample room to do what he wanted

but he kept it cute, only letting his hands slide south when you let him

but a little kiss didn’t hurt

his hand wrapped around your neck as pulled you to cover his lips with yours. the familiar taste of your lips sending jolts through his body. he groaned at the sensation as you followed. “should’ve done this at the firepit, right in front of that bastard. that way he would’ve known you were really mine all along.”

he left a lil hickey

nothing too crazy

y’all def did it in the bed with everybody there that night though

casa amor rolls around

y’all are doing good even before then

challenges were fun, vibes were on point!!

but just like the others, you bounce without a word. but you also left a note just like heeseung’s girl

“hi jakey !! i’m gonna be gone for a while but not to worry. distance makes the heart grow fonder. i trust you, and i hope you honor me while i’m away because i will do the same for you <3 p.s. i sprayed my perfume on our bed so if a bitch even tries to lie there she’ll be getting a piece of me. hugs and kisses xoxo !!”

he audibly laughed at your note, some tears threatening to escape him but quickly sucked it up

he missed you already, his baby

his little einstein

he tucked the note in his pocket for safe keeping

remember what i said before, the casa girls are coming in hot!!

and jake being the fun—and nice—guy he is, makes the girls feel welcome

until one of them pulls him for chat and he accepts

she came onto and him for some reason something came over him

to this day he can’t put his finger on if it was the excitement of a new face after seeing the same ones every single day for, what felt like, forever

or just lack of self control

maybe both

but he fucks her

when the guys found out they were jarred

even heeseung, the resident fuckboy™ wasn’t that wild

needless to say, jake has never felt more disgusted with himself

the support he amassed over the last few goes down the drain as this was one of the biggest twists of the season

i said hee became public enemy #1 before but no, jake was hated BAD!!!

fans were hurt themselves: “bro i feel so bad for y/n, she was everything and more and he just shit on her, fuck jake” “i really don’t believe in love anymore, this is wild” “imagine going thru ALL THAT with a girl that was made for you just to hook up with a random casa girl bc of a ‘minor slip up’ what a loser”

going back to the villa was…a journey to say the least

but when he got back you were smiling

hard

like…you couldn’t wait to see him

him, along with the boys were confused as they all thought that you’d seen what happened due to heeseung just getting heat

but no

you seemed to know nothing

and jake just played along, he didn’t bring anyone back and neither did you

“hello, my einstein,” he hugged you as he spun you around before gently placing you back on the wooden deck of the firepit.

the silence amongst the boys was deafening, there were already tensions due to heeseung’s situation, but the girls still tried to be happy for you and cheer you on. them clearly being oblivious to what really went down.

a few days passed and jake carried along as normal as he could, still consulting jay about this hole in chest called guilt that he couldn’t shake. he had to tell you.

until sunghoon’s girl got a text, she beckoned all of them to front

“islanders, it’s time for movie night! watch some exclusive clips from your time in the villa and casa amor! grab your seats and watch some dirty truths be unveiled. #nosecretshere #lightscameradrama”

everyone looked at each other with unsure looks, the boys getting glared and cold stares left and right.

you felt terrible, “i feel so bad, i know [heeseung’s girl] went through so much the last few days. i’d hate for her to have to almost relive it, you know?” you said to jake, to which he hugged you with a small ‘yeah’

everyone gathered around and it was time to pick which “movie” y’all wanted to watch

they chose ‘experiment gone wrong’

and that was when you saw it

jake tonguing down this girl, which stung, but ok this was during a challenge so nothing crazy

the next clip cut to them talking at the firepit and he was just giggling it up

then they kissed

which was more than enough to make your heart feel like it smashed into a million pieces

then the next clip was of them making out on yours and his shared bed

then he covered both of them with the comforter as the camera moved to a new angle where they threw their clothes onto the floor from beneath the sheets

then on the outside on the firepit right where they were, laid the note you left for him before you left

then it faded to black

the silence was deafening

the girl’s right by you sat in shock as you were all equally.

the first to break the silence was jungwon’s girl “so y’all knew?”

the boys were all looking down in shame

silence. crickets.

you wanted so badly to say something but your voice simply wouldn’t allow you

you just remember breaking down into jungwon’s girl’s arms as she rested her hand on your head, stroking your head to give you some consolation as the rest of the girl’s cursed them out.

jake just sat there, tears in his eyes as croaked out, “i didn’t mean to—”

“what didn’t mean to do what? she trusted you, we all did! y’all are some grimy ass people for not even letting one of us know. like you didn’t have to tell her. at least one of us and we could’ve done something!”

“jake you are such a piece of shit”

“i know,” he whimpered, leaning back into the couch

“if you’re capable of keeping some shit like that from her then you’re capable of anything.”

he knew what the girls were saying was true to some–well, a huge extent. but he wasn’t looking at them.

he was looking at you break down over something that he did out of pure tactlessness

the producers didn’t let you get up until the clips were done being shown but as soon as they were done, you sped walked right inside

knowing jake was hot on your tail

before you can ever get past even the middle of the yard space he catches up you

“y/n please,” he says, pleading. “i can explain,”

you looked at him, with nothing but pure pain and desolation, “explain what? your dick just somehow slipped inside her on accident?”

he shook his head, “baby—”

that was when you snapped, yelling at for the first time ever. “no! you lost the privilege to call me that! i’m nothing to you, do you hear me? nothing! you are a sick and twisted individual. nevermind the hooking up thing because a part of me expected it. men will be men, but for you to have days to tell me and you let me find out along with everyone else?”

“please, can we just talk about this somewhere else?” his voice cracked as he began to sob, not caring if all of your peers were watching

“you’re such a con artist, you made me believe you. made me believe that everything was fine and dandy between us and that i was like the one for you—”

“but you are, you are—” he grabbed his hair, pulling it from stress and frustration. “gosh, you are! i just fucked up—”

“i gave you my body, jake. does that not mean anything to you?”

he sobbed loudly, not even caring how he looked anymore. “yes! it means everything just please understand me!” he grabbed your shoulders to hopefully make you listen. “i fucked up. i know i’m a shitty person for doing that and i know i’m even shittier than lying to you like this and keeping you in the dark. but please trust me when i say that it was a mistake and will never happen again.”

“you’ve shown me who you are, jake. i’m taking it for what it is. you’ve made your choice and it wasn’t me.” you said, cold and distant

choking back sobs as he tries to reach for you again. “y/n, please. i’m begging you. don’t do this. i’ll do anything. i’ll make it right, just give me a chance.”

“fuck you, jake.”

jungwon’s girl ends up sleeping with you outside that night

jake cries himself to sleep, even though he could barely do that

the next day you were more angry than hurt

when he brought you breakfast, you threw it out the window right in front of face

you’re like 60% sure bits of the eggs ended up in the pool

everytime he tried to talk to you, you ignored him

if he asked to pull you for a chat while you speaking to someone, you continued talking as if he wasn’t standing there, literally begging you for a conversation

he was vapor to you and it wasn’t fun being like this but he needed to be punished

until one recoupling, he decides to self-eliminate

this rippled shock throughout the villa, even you

during his final speech, “i felt like i came here to find a connection. i did, and regardless of how it turned out, i’m so grateful for the time that i did get with that person. i know i did the most…distasteful things but i also know that forgiveness comes with time and it shouldn’t be on your terms.” he looked at you with longing eyes, “y/n, i love you,”

the L word in love island is like…unheard of almost like oh my god ??/?/?/ so your stomach was in knots

“and i will do anything to see you happy, baby, always. if that means being free from me than i’ll do it and i will let you have the experience you so rightfully deserve, so…that’s why i’d like to go home. i got what i came here for.”

there were definitely tears from everyone in the villa

jake had been everyone’s best friend so to see him go was hard

you and him exchanged longing glances and a gentle nod before he walked out and the ‘loves me not’ sign flashes

you ended up leaving the following week

you just wandered about aimlessly

bombshells came but none of them compared to jake

you were eliminated and was actually glad to go home and see your family after all these months

definitely sad because at this point, you spent so much time and gotten along well with everyone that they considered you an og at this point

but you left with your chest held high

but as soon as you got your phone back you saw you sat at a good 2M followers on instagram, which was like 1,999,900 million more than you came in here with.

you took a look at your dm’s and saw a familiar face text you:

“hey gorgeous,

i know you probably won’t see this for a while, but i couldn’t just leave things unsaid. i’ve spent so much time thinking about everything, and i know there’s no excuse for what i did. i messed up, badly. i hurt you, and i’ll never be able to fully fix that, no matter how much i wish i could. but i need you to know that i’m truly sorry. not just for what i did, but for letting you down in ways that went beyond just that moment.

i was selfish. i let my insecurities and confusion get the better of me, and in doing so, i betrayed your trust. i lied to you, and i let you believe things were okay when they weren’t. the worst part is, i knew better. i knew what i was doing was wrong, but i still did it. i don’t expect forgiveness from you, not after what i did, but i hope you can eventually find it in yourself to heal from this.

you deserve someone who values you and respects you, someone who sees you for who you truly are, not just in the moments when things are easy. i failed you in that regard. i let you down in front of everyone, and i’m sorry for that. but i want you to know that i will always think of you, and no matter what happens, you’ll always be important to me.

i don’t know if you’ll ever want to talk to me again, and honestly, i wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. i’m not asking for forgiveness, and i’m not asking for anything except that you take care of yourself, y/n. you deserve the world. and i’ll keep working on becoming someone better, even if it’s too late for us.

i hope that wherever you are, you’re finding peace and happiness. i’ll be here if you ever want to reach out, but i understand if you need time or if you don’t ever want to. just know i’m thinking of you, and i’ll always be rooting for you. i wouldn’t change a thing if it meant i got to experience the beauty that is you.

take care of yourself. you were more than everything to me. i love you einstein.

your jakey <3

ok that felt like a gut punch

you sat there, on your bed wondering your next move

then you got to typing

Sunghoon 박성훈

he’s for sure a bombshell

one of the bombshells that comes in the blind kissing challenges to confuse all of the girls

he’s had his eye on you for a while

so when he gets to kiss you, he’s more than prepared to rock your world

he takes his time with you as he runs a gentle finger down your lips to the valley of your breasts as he pulls you closer by your hips

then he pulled you in so your lips could meet his and it was up from there

everyone was so confused

“jake?” “nah that's not him”

“heeseung?” “nah he’s not as aggressive”

the boys were in complete shock, some of there were dying laughing

others bitter because he was kissing their girls lmaooo

when the girls took their blindfolds off, they were screaming in shock

you laughed something serious!!

but when you got a look at sunghoon, you were also very shook

he was…scarily beautiful, like he almost made you feel insecure lmao

but he couldn’t stop looking at you

you and the girls congregated after that to discuss details

“yo, he’s hot as fuck” “he’s gorgeous” “y’all don’t even know what to do with all that”

the fans were thrown. they were gagged.

TWITTER WAS SCREAMINGGG “#needthat”

the guys all whispered about him, impressed that he came in with such a bang

others, whose couples weren’t so steady in their couples were worried

but they saw how he kissed you

he wanted you

during the challenge where america weighs in on what they feel about them

he gets voted to be like the biggest fuckboy

which again, makes heeseung laugh because he was that was his thing™

everyone even voted him too, so to hear america’s thoughts made the girls think the world knew something they didn’t

but back to sunghoon

his feelings were a little hurt

he wasn’t sure if it was the way he looked that gave people that impression

but he never kissed any girls outside of challenges so it didn’t make much sense

sure he had his fun outside of the villa

but he knew that he was going to be on national television, so he did try to dial it back

you were very turned off by this

you admitted in the confessionals, “i’ve had my fair share of fuckboys. i even knew by coming here that i wasn’t exempt from them! so to be real, i’m not shocked. i mean look at him. i’d be hurt if he wasn’t sharing the fun with other people.”

he’s annoyed by it but doesn’t let it phase him

now onto you guys

at this point, you’re pretty solid in your original connection

sunghoon didn’t really gaf lmao

he was a bombshell, he wasn’t supposed to be peaceful

he had a talk with your connection in front of the guys

“i’m sorry but i’m here to step on toes and i really don’t care if you don’t like that. i’m not here to make friends.”

your connection nodded with a ‘challenge accepted’ type of smile

so let the games begin

he pursued you down

a solid week and a half of him and your partner fighting for you

until heeseung is bored one night and wants to play a game: truth or dare

“y/n, truth or dare”

now you knew better than to accept a dare from any of these hooligans, “truth.”

“do you think your connection is solid enough to survive me being here?” he leans forward, resting his head on his hands with a smile

wow

so you didn’t have anything to say

you literally plead the fifth

and that caused some drama and needless to say, you and your partner argued that night

“so, one guy just comes around and all of a sudden i’m not enough for you?”

“i never said that, you’re just insecure and plus it’s not that serious. this is love island. i came here for me, who are you to hinder me from my experience?”

he slept outside that night

sunghoon slept with a smile on his that night

the next morning, he asked around what you liked for breakfast and brought it to you while you were doing your makeup

you thanked him politely, not liking him for basically prophesying your couple’s misfortune

he knew what happened and was capitalizing off of it

fans easily saw this and thought the same, not entirely liking sunghoon and calling him a little bit of weirdo

“he’s hot but something about bro seems sketchy” “is he a witch or sumn??? does bro have crystals and sage in his suitcase??? wtf is going on” “i agree with the discourse but why am i kinda eating this up tho”

you were chatting with jay’s girl and then he pulls you for a chat, to which you agreed reluctantly “sure”

y’all went to the chairs by the beach. he sat on one and you sat across from him

“so? rough night?”

“do you have a problem with me?”

“no. i just want you.”

“you’re so weird, i mean i appreciate that you’re trying to be nice to me in your own sick way. but i don’t play games.”

he smiled, “i’m not playing with you, though. i just held up a mirror.”

“you’re serious?”

“think about it, i didn’t do anything. i just asked you one question and he did the rest.”

you resigned

ok he was right, i mean

your partner was bugging out because he was threatened by another man

“obviously i’ll leave you alone if you want me to but it won’t exactly help your situation.”

“you some type of mind reader or something?”

“i don’t need to read minds. i just need to pay attention. and i’ve been watching for a while. what i’m seeing isn’t really about me, it’s about what you’re not saying.”

fuck it

you stood up and walked toward to him as you straddled his hips

he smiled gently as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. and yours around his neck as you kissed officially

some of your fellow islanders were eavesdropping and and watching from behind the deck and they silently cheered

as you pulled back, “did i say enough?”

biting his lip, he nodded as he rested his hand on the back of your head. “yeah,” the other head rubbed your thighs on either side of him.

you pulled away from the kiss and the tension lingered but he kept his grip on your thigh. as if he was scared you’d pull away.

“what are you thinking, pretty girl?” his voice took on a new tone. that sarcastic, patronizing inflection long gone.

“i think you knew exactly what you were doing.” you laughed

he smiled, your laugh actually giving him butterflies “maybe,” the head that rested on your head moved to your cheek as he stroked it gently. “just want to make you feel wanted,”

your connection ended up getting eliminated at recoupling (womp womp)

since sunghoon came late, casa was only a week later

a part of him was excited to explore more options

you didn’t leave a note, which kinda stung

but there wasn’t anything to do about it so he just continued as normal

he kissed a few girls, brought one back :(

definitely pissed you off!!

lowkey he got your frustration but it’s only been a week!!

“it’s not like we’re married or anything, i’m just tryna explore my options.”

to which you understood, didn’t make the embarrassment any easier

you were so mad you didn’t bring a guy back either

fans felt validated that their suspicions were right “see??? i knew i wasn’t buggin. he’s a hoe.” “i get that it’s been a week but he could’ve been a little nicer about it like damn” “the audacity to chase her and put her other connection at risk when he could’ve just kept it cool?? he just wanted screen time fr” “this sounds crazy but not even heeseung is this bad” “he wants to be heeseung sooo baddd LMFAOO”

not hated, but not liked either

y’all fizzle out and he partners with the casa girl

you get eliminated at that recoupling

you guys hug before you leave and reconcile

no beef

no static

he’d def reach out after everything tho

#enhypen #niki x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #kpop #heeseung #jungwon #jake sim #park jay #sunghoon #enhypen fics #enhypen au #sunoo #enha #kpop x black reader #kpop x reader #kpop fic #kpop fanfic

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elikajinnie · 1 month ago

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hii! hope ur doing good I have some ideas in mind hear me out demon sunghoon where he fell in love with reader and tries to protect and keep an eye on her and sunghoon tries to disguise himself as a human to get closer to her will do anything to protect her and love her, buttt what if reader discover’s his true identity. It could be incubus sunghoon BUT ITS UR CHOICE, Hope ur doing good :333

The Incubus's Touch - P.S

a/n: i hope you like it <33

P: Incubus!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Obsession, Teasing, Possession, Seduction, Hurt/Comfort, Temptation, Stalking, Suggestive Content, Mature Content.

Wordcount: 10.2k

Synopsis: Working at the old campus library was fun—except for one rule: never enter the basement. Yet, one day, you found yourself there, holding an ancient book. You read a few words, and now strange things are happening, and a mysterious new student won’t leave you alone. Who—or what—did you awaken?

a/n: i got some inspiration from a new book im reading called The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino - i would recommend it if you can handle slowburn.

now playing: woo by rihanna | sins (let me in) by kanii | temptation by ashley sienna | dont mess with my mind by emo

reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

When you first decided to get a job close to campus, you weren’t expecting much. In fact, you didn’t have many choices at all. Most of the cafes and shops near the university had already filled their rosters for the semester, and every rejection you received only added to the growing knot of anxiety in your chest. As the weeks passed, you found yourself growing desperate, spending late nights scrolling through job postings that seemed to disappear before you could even send in an application.

It wasn’t until one quiet afternoon in the campus library that your salvation arrived.

The campus library had always been your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and filled with the smell of old books. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend hours tucked into one of the corners, surrounded by towering shelves of books and the gentle hum of the air conditioning. The librarian, Mrs. Choi, had gotten used to seeing you there almost every day, to the point where she’d started greeting you by name when you walked through the doors.

That day, she had approached your table while you were hunched over your laptop, your screen open to yet another fruitless job search.

“Still looking?” she’d asked, her voice soft but knowing.

You’d sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah. It’s been… rough.”

She’d nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting toward the stacks of books waiting to be shelved. Then, after a moment, she’d said, “How would you feel about working here? As my assistant?”

You’d blinked, thinking you must have misheard her. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” she’d said, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing glamorous, but we could use an extra set of hands. And you seem like the kind of person who’d do well here.”

You didn’t need to think twice. You’d eagerly accepted the offer on the spot.

The job, as it turned out, was exactly what you’d needed. Sorting out books, erasing stray pencil marks and doodles from pages, sitting behind the counter to check books in and out, cleaning shelves, making sure the computers were turned off at the end of the day—it was simple work.

You quickly fell into a routine. Most days, you worked quietly alongside Mrs. Choi, who was as patient and kind. Other times, you found yourself alone.

There were small challenges, of course— like figuring out the library catalog system, dealing with students who were less than gentle with the books, chasing down overdue returns—but they were minor in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn’t the job you’d imagined yourself doing, but it turned out to be exactly what you needed.

But there was one simple rule she had given you: never enter the basement alone.

At first, you thought it was strange. The basement was just a storage space, wasn’t it? A place to keep old supplies, forgotten books, and maybe some outdated equipment. Why would it matter if you were alone or not?

You got your answer the first time Mrs. Choi took you down there.

It had been a quiet afternoon, with only a few students milling around the library. Mrs. Choi had handed you a list of supplies needed to repair a torn book—a delicate process that required some old tools and adhesives she kept locked away downstairs. She led you to a small, unassuming door at the far corner of the library, almost hidden behind one of the towering shelves.

The moment the door creaked open, the atmosphere changed.

The air was heavier, colder. A faint smell of mold hit your nose immediately, mixed with something metallic that made you wrinkle your nose. The single light bulb at the top of the stairs flickered, casting shadows that danced along the narrow stairwell. You hesitated, but Mrs. Choi gave you a reassuring look and motioned for you to follow.

“I know it’s not exactly inviting,” she said with a small smile, descending the stairs, “but the supplies we need are down here. Just stick close to me.”

You nodded and followed her, but the deeper you went, the more uneasy you felt. The basement wasn’t just dark—it was suffocatingly so. The walls were lined with shelves cluttered with dust-covered boxes, forgotten stacks of books, and unidentifiable objects. The floor beneath your feet was uneven, cracked concrete, and your steps echoed in the silence.

And then there were the hallways.

You hadn’t expected the basement to be so sprawling. Hallways branched off in seemingly every direction, twisting and turning into darkness. Some of them were so narrow you’d have to walk sideways to squeeze through. Others disappeared entirely into shadows, the overhead lights either burned out or nonexistent.

“This library is older than the campus itself,” Mrs. Choi explained as she rummaged through a shelf near the end of one of the hallways. “The basement used to be part of an old archive building before the university bought the property. They’ve renovated the library a dozen times over the years, but the basement? Well…” She trailed off, gesturing to the decaying walls around you.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you muttered, wrinkling your nose at the sight of a particularly large spiderweb on the wall.

Mrs. Choi chuckled softly. “Exactly. What the students can’t see won’t hurt them—or so the administration likes to think. Just be glad you don’t have to come down here often.”

You nodded, but your eyes kept drifting to the dark hallways. There was something… off about them.

“Mrs. Choi?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Hmm?” she replied without looking up.

“Why don’t you want me coming down here alone?”

She paused, her hands stilling on the box she’d been searching through. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and you felt a chill crawl up your spine. When she finally spoke, her tone was casual—too casual.

“It’s easy to get lost,” she said, turning to you with a faint smile. “The layout down here doesn’t make much sense, and it’s not exactly safe to wander around in the dark. The last thing I want is for you to trip and hurt yourself.”

Her explanation made sense, but the way she avoided your gaze left you unconvinced. Still, you didn’t press the issue. You helped her carry the supplies back upstairs, relieved to step back into the library.

After that, you made a point to follow her rule. The basement was creepy enough with someone else—there was no way you were going down there alone.

At least, not until the night you had no choice.

It happened a few weeks later, after a long shift that had stretched past closing time. Mrs. Choi had gone home early, trusting you to lock up on your own. Most of the evening had just been returning books to their shelves, tidying up the counter, shutting down the computers—but just as you were about to leave, you noticed a small stack of books on the repair desk.

You froze, staring at them. Mrs. Choi had asked you to fix those earlier in the week, but you’d completely forgotten. The supplies you needed were downstairs—in the basement.

You hesitated, debating whether you could just leave it for tomorrow, but you knew Mrs. Choi was counting on you. Sighing, you grabbed a flashlight from the front desk and made your way to the basement door.

You hesitated at the door, keys in hand, as a quiet, uneasy thought crossed your mind: Just leave it for tomorrow. But Mrs. Choi... She was counting on you. The supplies were just downstairs. It’d take five minutes at most.

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door.

The heavy, creaking groan of the hinges sent a shiver down your spine as the door swung open. The familiar smell hit you immediately: damp, mold, and that faint metallic. You reached for the light switch, flipping it on without much thought.

Nothing happened.

You froze, your hand still on the switch. You flicked it again. And again. Still nothing.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself the bulb had probably just burned out—though you couldn’t remember a time the light had ever failed before.

“It’s fine,” you muttered under your breath, bringing the flashlight you’d brought along up. The bright beam cut through the darkness as you clicked it on, illuminating the narrow staircase in front of you. You took a shaky breath and began your descent.

The further down you went, the colder it became.

The air felt heavier here, pressing against your skin like a warning. You tried to focus on the flashlight’s beam, watching it bounce against the cracked walls and uneven steps. It helped, a little. But not enough to shake the growing knot of unease curling in your stomach.

When you finally reached the bottom of the staircase, you paused to look around. The beam of your flashlight swept across the basement, revealing the same maze of shelves, forgotten boxes, and darkened hallways you’d seen before. But tonight, it felt different—almost unfamiliar.

A shiver ran up your spine. You adjusted your grip on the flashlight, forcing yourself to move.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Get the supplies and leave.”

You turned toward the shelf where Mrs. Choi always kept the repair tools. They were usually right there—neatly stored in a small wooden crate on the middle shelf. But as you shone the flashlight over it, you froze.

The shelf was empty.

Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly scanned the area. No crate. No tools. Nothing. You crouched down, checking the lower shelves, even though you knew they’d never been there before. Still nothing.

“Where…?” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own breathing.

Maybe Mrs. Choi had moved them? That was possible, right? She was always reorganizing things. You straightened up, your flashlight flicking from shelf to shelf, moving to step back, you were about tt turn to check the other shelves nearby. That’s when you heard it.

A faint sound, just on the edge of your hearing. A soft creak, like the sound of a door easing open—or maybe a floorboard shifting underfoot.

You froze, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hand.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice louder than you intended. It echoed through the basement, bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the dark hallways. No response.

You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe just the old pipes settling, or your own footsteps disturbing something. But as you turned back to the shelf, another sound reached you.

This time, it was softer—quieter. Like the faint rustle of fabric.

Your stomach dropped.

You swung the flashlight toward the nearest hallway, its beam cutting through the dark. Nothing. Just more shelves, more shadows. But your instincts were screaming at you now, telling you to leave. To get out of there.

"Okay, nope," you whispered to yourself, backing away from the hallway, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hands.

That’s when you heard it.

A hum.

Soft, almost melodic, like someone humming a lullaby just out of earshot. It floated through the air, carried on a breeze that shouldn’t have existed down here. The sound wrapped around you, tender and strangely inviting, tugging at something deep inside your chest.

You froze, the flashlight beam flickering as your grip loosened. The hum grew louder—not in an overwhelming way, but in a way that seemed to sink into your bones. It felt… warm.

Where were you again?

You frowned, the thought slipping through your mind like water through your fingers. You couldn’t remember. The dim basement around you blurred at the edges, the walls dissolving into a hazy glow. The tight knot of fear in your stomach melted away, replaced by a slow, pleasant warmth that spread through your body.

The hum wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting and wonderful, coaxing you to close your eyes and just… relax. The cold, damp smell of the basement faded, replaced by something sweeter. Flowers? No… vanilla, maybe. Something that reminded you of home.

You let out a soft sigh, your muscles relaxing, the tension in your shoulders fading. Your flashlight slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground, but you barely noticed.

Everything felt so perfect.

You wanted to stay here forever.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the hum stopped.

And everything crashed back into focus.

The warmth in your chest was gone, replaced by a sharp chill that clawed at your skin. The sweetness in the air vanished, leaving behind the bitter stench of mold and metal. Your surroundings solidified, and you realized you were no longer standing where you’d been before.

You were in a different room.

The walls were smooth and gray, completely different from the crumbling concrete of the basement hallways. The shelves were gone, replaced by nothing but cold, empty space. The air felt heavier, colder, and every breath you took made your chest ache.

Your flashlight was nowhere to be seen, but a dim, pale light seemed to seep into the room from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The hum was gone, but the silence it left behind was worse.

You turned in slow circles, your heart hammering in your chest. The room was small, with smooth, gray walls that loomed over you, stretching upward into darkness.

“Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.

It echoed back to you, warped and distant, as if the room was far larger than it seemed.

The warped echoes of your voice faded into the suffocating silence of the room, leaving only the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

How did you even get here?

You couldn't remember. Your mind was still foggy, fragments of warmth and that eerie hum lingering in the back of your thoughts like an unfinished dream.

Did you walk here?

You felt like you were missing pieces of yourself, as if part of your memory had been swallowed whole.

You were about to take a tentative step forward when something deep inside you shifted—a strange, unnatural pull. It wasn't a sensation you could describe easily. It was as though a string deep within your chest was being tugged, pulling you toward something.

You froze, your breath catching as your eyes followed the invisible tether.

In the center of the room, sitting on a low, ornate stand, was a book.

Your heart stuttered. Had that been there before? You were sure it wasn’t. You would have noticed it immediately, wouldn’t you?

The book seemed to glow faintly, its crimson-red cover almost pulsating, like it was alive. There were no words or symbols on the front, just smooth, worn leather that seemed impossibly pristine for something that felt so… ancient.

You swallowed hard, your feet moving toward it as if on their own. Each step felt heavier, your instincts screaming at you to turn around, to run, but you couldn’t stop.

When you finally reached it, you hesitated.

It was smaller than you expected, almost delicate, as though it shouldn’t have belonged in a place like this. Despite its vivid crimson color, the book radiated a strange sense of calm—like it wanted to be touched.

Before you realized it, your fingers were brushing against the cover.

It felt smooth, almost unnaturally so, and surprisingly light when you picked it up. You turned it over in your hands, the edges soft and perfectly bound, as if the book had been untouched for centuries. But on the back, something caught your attention.

A pink heart.

It was imprinted into the leather, subtle, making it look almost playful.

You huffed, confused and almost annoyed by how strange it all felt. Turning the book back over, you slowly opened it.

The pages inside were blank.

Every single one, clean and untouched, as though the book had never been written in. But when you turned to the first page, something stopped you in your tracks.

There was writing.

It was delicate, inked in looping, elegant script that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. The letters were strange, unfamiliar, but they seemed alive, as though they were moving ever so slightly, shifting and breathing on the page.

Latin, your mind supplied, though you couldn’t remember ever studying the language.

You tilted your head, curiosity overriding your fear as your eyes traced the unfamiliar words. They beckoned to you, pulling you in deeper. Before you even realized what you were doing, your lips parted, and you read them aloud:

"Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum."

Nothing happened.

You stared at the book, waiting for some dramatic effect—a rumble, a flash of light, maybe a ghostly apparition—but there was nothing. Just silence.

You let out an annoyed huff, rolling your eyes. “Great. Real spooky,” you muttered under your breath. Closing the book with a snap, you placed it back on the stand, wiping your hands on your jeans as if to rid yourself of its texture. “What a waste of time.”

Turning around, you glanced around the room again, your frustration growing. It wasn’t like you had time to deal with creepy books in creepy basements. You still needed to get out of here and figure out why the supplies weren’t where they were supposed to be.

Then, you saw it.

A door.

It was open, just wide enough for you to slip through. You frowned. Had it been there before? It must’ve been—how else would you have gotten in here? Still, something about it didn’t sit right with you.

Was that where you came from?

You shrugged. Probably.

With no other options, you headed toward it, slipping through the opening, the faint creak of the hinges echoing unnervingly.

And then you were swallowed by darkness.

“Of course,” you muttered, groaning. Without the flashlight from earlier, the darkness was thick and impenetrable. You could barely see an inch in front of your face, and the faint light from the room behind you did nothing to help.

Fishing your phone from your pocket, you switched on its flashlight. The beam wasn’t as strong as the flashlight you’d been carrying before, but it was enough to see the area around you.

The floor beneath your feet was uneven and cold, a mixture of dirt and cracked stone. You shone the light around, trying to get your bearings. The walls were damp and covered in spiderwebs, and the faint scent of mold and rust lingered in the air.

Where even am I?

You took a tentative step forward, the beam of light from your phone trembling as you moved.

The hallway kept stretching forward, narrow and seemingly endless. The farther you walked, the more the walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder with each step. Your phone’s light flickered once, then again, making your pulse spike.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” you whispered, gripping the device tighter.

The light steadied, and you exhaled a shaky breath, your footsteps faltering slightly.

Something felt off.

The air was too still, the silence too absolute. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were being watched, like something was lurking just beyond the reach of your light.

You shook your head, trying to focus. “Get it together,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just find the exit.”

But as you took another step, something caught your attention.

A sound.

It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew louder the more you listened. A soft, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps… or fingers drumming against a surface.

You froze, the beam of your phone’s light shaking as your hands trembled. The sound echoed faintly through the corridor, coming from somewhere ahead of you.

“Hello?” you called, your voice cracking slightly.

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You waited, holding your breath, your ears straining for any hint of movement.

Then, suddenly, the tapping started again—this time behind you.

Your stomach dropped, and you whipped around, the flashlight from your phone sweeping over the hallway you’d just walked through. It was empty.

Completely, utterly empty.

You took a shaky step backward, your heart hammering in your chest. The tapping grew louder, faster, coming from all around you now, echoing off the walls in a maddening cacophony.

“Stop it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Just stop!”

And then it did.

The silence that followed was deafening, almost worse than the sound itself. You took another step back, your pulse racing, and suddenly the floor beneath you gave way.

With a startled cry, you fell, the phone slipping from your hand as you tumbled into darkness.

You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Dazed and disoriented, you lay there for a moment, your head spinning and your body aching.

When you finally managed to sit up, you realized you were no longer in the narrow hallway.

You were back in the room.

The light was gone, replaced by an suffocating darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly around you.

And in the center of the room, sitting on the stand where you’d left it, was the book.

But this time, it wasn`t red.

It was black.

And it was beating.

You screamed, the sound raw and terrified as it echoed around the room. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Your body felt impossibly heavy, as though some unseen force was pressing down on you, rooting you in place.

Frantic, your eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out, for anything to explain what was happening. But the darkness seemed alive now, shifting and writhing just beyond your vision.

And then, you felt it.

Hot breath, impossibly close, brushing against your ear.

Your breath hitched as warmth spread through you, pooling low in your stomach, and you hated how your body betrayed you, reacting to something you couldn’t even see.

Then came the lips.

Soft, feather-light, trailing along the curve of your neck. The sensation was so vivid, so real, that a groan escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body arched instinctively, leaning into the phantom touch, even as your mind screamed at you to fight it, to run, to do something.

“Shh,” a voice purred, its tone soothing. “There’s no need to be afraid, my sweet. You called me, remember?”

Your heart raced, and your hands clenched into fists as you tried to regain control of your body. “What… what are you?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

The presence behind you chuckled, the sound low and intimate, like a lover’s laugh shared in the dark.

“I’m yours,” it said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You read the words. You invited me in. And now… we’re bound.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “No, no, this isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is,” the voice replied, amusement lacing its tone. “You wanted something, didn’t you? Why else would you open that book? Why else would you speak those words?”

The weight on your body eased slightly, enough for you to shift and try to crawl away, but the darkness coiled around you like a living thing, keeping you in place.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?” the voice murmured, almost pitying. “Poor thing. You were so eager, so curious. And now…”

A hand—cold yet burning—brushed against your cheek, tilting your head up toward the stand where the book still rested.

“…you’re mine.”

The room seemed to pulse with those final words, the darkness tightening around you like a vice. Your vision blurred as panic clawed at your throat, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the book—its pages flipping wildly on their own—glowing faintly with a sinister crimson light.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, your body jolting upright like you’d been shocked awake. But as you looked around, you realized you were lying in the middle of the hallway.

Your phone was on the floor beside you, its flashlight pointed up at the cracked ceiling.

It was a dream?

You laughed, breathless and shaky, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself. “This is insane,” you muttered, your voice trembling. The laughter didn’t last long—it felt hollow, a desperate attempt to convince yourself that what you’d experienced wasn’t real.

You snatched up your phone, and scrambled to your feet. Without wasting another second, you sprinted down the hallway, the weak beam of your phone’s flashlight bouncing with every step. You didn’t care where you were going anymore; you just needed to get out.

The hallways twisted and turned, stretching endlessly, and every shadow seemed to claw at you as you ran. It felt like hours—like the labyrinth was mocking you, refusing to let you leave.

But finally, somehow, you found your way back.

The dim light of the main basement room greeted you, and your breath hitched as your eyes landed on something you hadn’t expected to see.

The box of supplies.

It was sitting on the shelf, exactly where it was supposed to be.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at it. The same box you’d been searching for, on the same shelf you’d checked before.

How had it gotten here?

You didn’t dare question it. Not now. Not after everything that had just happened.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the box, clutching it tightly in one hand while you snatched the flashlight off the ground with the other.

Then you bolted.

Your feet thundered up the stairs, your pulse roaring in your ears as you raced for the exit. When you reached the top, you slammed the basement door shut and locked it, your hands shaking so badly it took you a couple of tries to get the key to turn.

The moment it was locked, you pressed your back against the door, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

You glanced down at the supplies in your arms, the mundane, ordinary contents almost laughable now after everything you’d been through.

But as you stood there, something cold prickled at the back of your neck.

You turned slowly, your eyes drifting toward the library’s main floor.

Everything was still. Silent.

And yet, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure standing in the shadows between the shelves.

Watching you.

You blinked, and it was gone.

This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, shaking your head as you clutched the box tighter. You were just tired, that was all. You hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, and the stress of balancing school and work was clearly catching up to you. Yeah, tired. That’s all this is, you thought, repeating it like a mantra.

Ignoring the lingering unease prickling at the back of your neck, you made your way to the counter. The two ripped books Mrs. Choi had left were still there, waiting for you. You dropped the box down with a thud, grabbed the tools you needed, and got to work.

Your hands trembled at first as you smoothed out the torn pages, applying the adhesive carefully. You focused on the process—cutting, pressing, and smoothing out the repair strips—letting the repetitive actions calm your frayed nerves.

This was normal. Fixing books. Doing your job. Nothing weird about that.

Minutes passed. Then longer. The books were almost done, and for a moment, you felt like you could breathe again.

But then, just as you reached for the last tool in the box, a soft tap echoed through the library.

Your hand froze mid-reach, your eyes darting toward the source of the sound.

Tap… tap… tap.

It came from the direction of the shelves, slow and deliberate, like someone tapping their nails against wood.

Your chest tightened as you stared into the rows of books, the library was dark now—darker than it should’ve been. The overhead lights seemed dimmer, casting distorted shadows across the shelves.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was the building settling, or the heating system kicking on. Don’t be stupid. You’re just scaring yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but call out, your voice wavering. “Hello?”

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You stared into the darkness for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

Then, just as you were about to turn back to the books, a book fell from one of the shelves.

The sound was deafening, the thud reverberating through the library like a gunshot.

You jumped, your breath hitching, and spun toward the source. The book lay open on the floor, its pages splayed out like wings.

You didn’t want to go over there. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to stay behind the counter, to leave it alone.

But your feet moved on their own, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the fallen book.

When you finally reached the book, you crouched down, your hand trembling as you picked it up.

Your fingers brushed over the embossed title, and your stomach dropped.

It was the same book you’d seen in the basement.

You gasped, clutching the crimson book tightly as your eyes darted around the library. Maybe this was some sort of prank? Someone could have grabbed the book from the basement and planted it here to scare you.

“Hello?” you called out again, but the library was still empty, silent.

Your breathing quickened as you scanned the shelves, desperate to catch a glimpse of anyone—a student pulling some cruel joke, or maybe Mrs. Choi coming back to check on you. But there was no one.

You hurried back to the counter, your heart racing, and turned on the computer. Your fingers fumbled as you brought up the CCTV footage, the small screen flickering to life. You scrubbed through the past hour, watching yourself walking back and forth, grabbing the box, and fixing the books.

Nothing.

No one else had entered the library. The hallways and shelves were empty. It was just you, moving around, completely alone.

Well… almost.

You paused the footage, your heart sinking as your eyes locked onto a shadow. It was faint, barely distinguishable, but for one brief frame, something seemed to linger in the corner of the screen. Not a person, but… something.

It was gone in the next frame.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” you muttered under your breath, slamming the monitor off.

You looked at the crimson book sitting on the counter, its cover gleaming faintly under the dim light. It felt wrong—its very presence seemed to thrum.

Without thinking, you grabbed it and tossed it into the nearest trash bin, making sure it landed deep under crumpled paper and leftover scraps.

“There,” you said to yourself, your voice shaky. “Done.”

Forcing yourself to focus, you went back to finishing the torn books, your hands working faster than ever. As soon as the repairs were complete, you shoved the box under the counter and hurried to turn off the lights.

The library plunged into darkness, the faint moonlight filtering through the windows barely enough to guide you as you locked the doors behind you.

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside. The campus was quiet, the lampposts casting long shadows across the pathways.

You tightened your coat around you and began the walk home, your footsteps echoing loud. Every so often, you glanced over your shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone was following you.

But the path behind you was always empty.

Still, the unease stayed with you, like a cold weight settling deep in your chest.

When you finally reached your apartment, you locked the door behind you, double-checking it twice before collapsing onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were just tired, your imagination running wild after a long day.

Before you knew it, sleep had overtaken you. The exhaustion from the long day weighed down on your body like a blanket, pulling you into unconsciousness almost instantly.

But the peace of sleep didn’t last long.

You found yourself in a dimly lit bedroom, one you didn’t recognize. The walls were draped with dark curtains, and the air was heavy with the faint scent of roses. You sat up slowly, blinking in confusion as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“How did I…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off.

Before you could process anything, a voice, smooth and rich like velvet, broke the silence.

“My, you’re even more beautiful up close.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, equal parts alluring and unsettling. You whipped your head around, searching for the source, but the shadows in the room seemed to shift and dance, obscuring whoever was speaking to you.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” the voice continued, closer now, almost right beside your ear. “To touch you… to feel you…”

You gasped as a pair of lips suddenly pressed against yours, soft but demanding.

Your initial instinct was to pull away, but the sensation was overwhelming. Your mind grew hazy, a strange warmth spreading through your chest as the kiss deepened. It felt so intoxicating, so magnetic, that you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever experienced—it was all-consuming, as though the very act of it was pulling you further into the dream.

You felt hands brush against your skin, feather-light but firm, holding you in place.

You tried to pull back, but the hands held you steady, the kiss turning more possessive. The warmth you’d felt earlier now burned, searing through your veins as if something was being poured into you.

Panic swelled in your chest, but just as you were about to scream, the room spun violently, and everything went dark.

When your eyes shot open, you were back on your couch, drenched in sweat. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

But the lingering warmth on your lips, the faint ache of the kiss, told you otherwise.

And as you glanced toward the door, you froze.

The crimson book was sitting there, completely untouched, resting on the floor as if it had never been buried at all.

Your blood ran cold.

You scrambled to your feet, your heart pounding as you stared at the book. How was it there again? You knew you’d buried it deep under the pile of scraps.

“Nope. Not dealing with this,” you muttered, your voice shaking but resolute.

You grabbed the book, your fingers brushing against its smooth, cold cover. A strange, pleasant warmth crawled up your arm at the contact, sending shivers through your body. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—too good. Your grip faltered as a soft sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

No.

Shaking your head fiercely, you tightened your grip and turned toward the window. Without hesitating, you threw it open, the cool night air brushing against your flushed face.

With all the strength you could muster, you hurled the book out. It spiraled through the air before landing with a dull thud on the damp grass below.

You leaned against the windowsill, watching the book. It lay there, unmoving.

Relief coursed through you.

“That’s it,” you whispered. “Stay there. Stay gone.”

Slamming the window shut, you locked it, double-checking the latch before stepping back.

You needed to clear your head, to shake off the strange sensations still crawling under your skin. Heading to the bathroom, you stripped off your clothes.

The shower hissed to life, steam rising as the water warmed. You stepped under the stream, letting the heat cascade over you, washing away the sweat and fear clinging to your body.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to convince yourself it was all in your head. Just a bad day. Just a stressful, weird day.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the sound of the water beating against your skin filling your ears as you focused on your breathing. It’s fine. It’s just your imagination. Nothing weird is going on. You’re tired, just tired, you repeated in your mind.

The water seemed colder now, even though the temperature hadn't changed, and a shiver ran down your spine. You’re overthinking it. Just get out of the shower and relax, you told yourself, but your hands felt heavy as you reached for the soap.

Just as you were about to wash your face, a soft tap echoed from somewhere beyond the bathroom door.

You froze, the motion of your hands stalling in midair.

Tap... Tap...

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes darted to the bathroom door.

It was all too familiar. You couldn’t breathe, your chest tightening as the sound echoed louder in your mind.

No. No. It’s just the house settling. Maybe it’s the pipes. Just the pipes.

But the words felt hollow in your mind, the fear building with every passing second. The taps grew louder, clearer, almost closer.

You turned off the water quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. You stood there, motionless, listening, waiting for the sound to stop.

But it didn’t.

And then a creak. Just slightly, but enough for you to hear.

You gasped, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself as you backed away, your legs shaking. Your mind screamed at you to leave the bathroom, to get out of the apartment, but you couldn’t move.

Then, before you could react, the door opened, just a crack.

There was nothing on the other side.

Just the empty hallway beyond.

But you knew. You knew it wasn’t right.

You slammed the door shut and locked it immediately, your breath ragged. The air in the bathroom felt stifling now, the walls pressing in on you, the space shrinking.

Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, desperate to call someone, anyone.

But the screen flickered as soon as you unlocked it. The text on the screen was warped, unreadable. You stared at it for a moment, your stomach dropping. Something wasn’t right with your phone either.

A sharp, guttural whisper curled through the air, a voice so low you barely caught it.

The voice was so faint at first, you thought it was just a figment of your imagination, a trick your mind had played in the silence. But then it came again, clear and sharp, wrapping around your senses like a heavy fog.

“Come closer...”

It was soft, smooth, but there was an undeniable edge to it—laced with something... something tempting.

You froze, the words swirling in your mind. It wasn’t your own voice. It was deeper, resonating through you, the very air around you thick with a strange pull. Your chest tightened, and you felt something shift within you, an involuntary tug deep inside your stomach, urging you forward.

“Just one touch... just one kiss...”

The voice slithered, curling into your ear like a lover’s whisper, and something about it stirred the air around you. Your body was heating up, your skin prickling with a strange energy you couldn't explain.

You swallowed hard, your breath quickening as you stared at the mirror, trying to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you felt it—an undeniable heat at your back.

It burned, searing through you like something alive, something that wanted you. Your breath hitched, and you spun around in a panic, expecting to see someone behind you, but the bathroom was empty, the space cold and silent.

But the heat didn’t fade.

It lingered, crawling across your skin like a heavy presence, sending shivers up your spine. There was no one there, but the sensation of being watched was there. Your body tensed, the warmth spreading through your entire body now, suffocating you, as if someone was right there, pressed against you, whispering into your very soul.

“It’s just us now…”

You glanced into the mirror once more, and there it was again—the figure. This time, it was clearer, its shadowy outline just behind you, impossibly close. The reflection wasn’t yours—it was someone else, standing so close that the hairs on your neck stood on end.

You gasped, heart pounding, but the figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. It simply stood.

The heat intensified, and the whisper grew louder, more insistent, as if it had taken root in your mind.

“Come to me... you know you want to...”

Your pulse raced. The pull in your chest was growing stronger now, as if your body was no longer your own, as if it was being drawn to something that wasn’t just a dream anymore.

The room began to spin, and you had to grip the edge of the sink to steady yourself, feeling dizzy as the desire to obey, to give in, washed over you. But as you fought it, something else caught your eye in the mirror—something that made your blood run cold.

A pair of glowing eyes pierced through the shadows, locked on you. And they were hungry.

You staggered back, heart slamming against your ribcage, and in the corner of your vision, you saw a fleeting glimpse of something—something moving, shifting in the dark.

No… You wanted to scream, to run, but your body wouldn’t move. Your limbs felt like lead, and the heat had become unbearable, pressing into you, dragging you toward it.

With a strangled breath, you finally tore your gaze away from the mirror, blinking furiously to rid yourself of the image. But the voice didn’t stop. It echoed inside your mind, growing louder.

“We’re bound now... there’s no going back…”

You tried to pull away, tried to break free of the suffocating heat and the unbearable pressure, but you couldn’t move. It was as if invisible hands were holding you in place. Your body, already trembling from the overwhelming sensations, was paralyzed as the touch slowly traveled up your arms.

It was light, ghostly, like fingertips grazing over your skin—soft, but burning with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t. The sensation slid up to your shoulders, your neck, curling around you.

The moment it brushed your throat, the pressure seemed to increase, suffocating you. The touch lingered there, just under your jawline, fingers gentle yet firm. And then, before you could think, before you could react, you felt something else—lips.

A kiss.

But not from anyone you could see.

Your eyes snapped shut, your breath shallow as the kiss deepened, warm and intoxicating. It was urgent, burning, and wrong, but in a way that felt too good to resist. You tried to move, tried to pull back, but the invisible force held you in place, pushing you further into the kiss.

It was there, all around you—this overwhelming feeling of being wanted, of being pulled into something. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, fear and desire mingling into a sickening cocktail. The sensation of lips on yours, it felt alive, like the very essence of the kiss was drawing something from you.

A low, satisfied murmur vibrated against your lips, and something deep within you shivered.

No… stop, please… You tried to scream in your mind, but your body didn’t obey. You couldn’t pull away from it.

You were being pulled into it, held captive by something invisible, something that wasn't human. But what? What was kissing you, claiming you like this?

The answer felt just out of reach, like a whisper that barely brushed against your mind, too faint to grasp, too slippery to hold onto. The sensation of lips—too warm, too alive—pressed against yours again, and your strength began to wane. It was as if every breath you took was being drained, pulled out from you with each passing second. You felt weak, too weak to move, too weak to even think.

Your body, once full of fear, had gone completely limp, like a ragdoll strung up and held in place by an invisible force. The pressure around your throat tightened, suffocating, but you could do nothing to fight it. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t even blink—all your energy was consumed, sucked away by whatever was holding you captive, by the kiss that wasn't a kiss.

You could feel your mind slipping, like your thoughts were dissolving into the heat, into the darkness surrounding you. The invisible force—was it a presence? A shadow?—held you in place, guiding you, manipulating you, as if you were a puppet and it was pulling your strings.

But still, the sensation of being claimed lingered, you tried to focus, tried to break free, but it was no use. Every attempt only made you feel smaller, more powerless, like you were losing yourself bit by bit.

Was this what it wanted?

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. It felt... distant. Detached. Like you were a spectator in your own skin, watching as the thing—whatever it was—wove its tendrils around you.

Just as the world around you seemed to fade, a distant whisper echoed through the fog of your mind:

"Mine now."

The words wrapped around you like a heavy chain, pulling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel the floor beneath you anymore.

You were slipping away, your body fading into nothingness, held together only by the force that had claimed you.

"Mine forever."

When you woke up, it wasn’t like any other morning. You felt... tired. Groggy, and exhausted. As you stretched, you looked around the room, everything exactly as you left it, nothing unusual. It felt normal.

When you arrived at school, you couldn’t focus. The lessons droned on, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn't shake the feeling from last night. There was a gnawing curiosity deep inside you, a need to know what had happened, to make sense of it. You couldn’t just ignore it—your body wasn’t the same.

You pulled out your laptop in the middle of class, and you typed furiously. Your fingers flew over the keys, searching for any explanation that made sense, some kind of rational answer.

You found nothing but chaos.

The results were all over the place: demons, rituals, ghosts, whispers about curses and creatures from myths, things you thought only existed in horror stories. At first, you dismissed it. This can’t be real, you told yourself. But the deeper you went, the more it all seemed... possible.

And then you found it.

Incubus demons.

Your stomach twisted as you read more. The descriptions, the encounters—everything fit too perfectly. A demon, often seductive, one that could manipulate dreams, feed off your energy, entwine itself with you in the most intimate of ways. It would drain you slowly, filling you with warmth, with need, until it had you completely. Some even said an incubus could bind you to them—forever.

You felt a shiver creep down your spine. Was this what had happened to you? Could it be real? Could the thing you felt, the presence that had been with you, be an incubus?

The deeper you read, the more it made sense. The powerlessness, the way you felt unable to stop it, to resist. The hunger, the overwhelming desire. You couldn’t imagine it. You couldn't dream it.

You were still lost in thought as the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You gathered your things mechanically, your mind still reeling from the unsettling information you had uncovered. The words about incubus demons echoed in your head, each sentence making you feel more and more trapped.

As you packed your bag, your hand brushed against something unfamiliar. A cold chill ran through you, and your stomach dropped. You froze for a second, staring at your bag with a creeping sense of dread. Slowly, you opened it, and your eyes widened.

The book.

The crimson-red book. The one you had thrown out the window, the one you’d left behind—it was here, in your bag.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your fingers trembling as you touched the book. It was impossible. How could it be here? You distinctly remembered tossing it out, watching it fall to the ground outside your window. You’d even seen it land on the grass—it couldn’t have just come back.

A deep sense of dread filled your chest as your fingers slowly curled around the cover. You could feel the pull of it again, that same suffocating desire that called to you, whispered to you.

You quickly closed the bag, as if hiding it would make it go away.

How... how was this possible?

Your mind raced, trying to piece it together, but there was no logical explanation. The book had been thrown out. It shouldn’t be here.

And yet, it was.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t in control anymore.

Something was toying with you.

You had just sat down in your next class, trying to focus, but your mind kept wandering. How was it possible? What was happening to you? You barely noticed when the seat beside you shifted, and someone sat down, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You turned your head instinctively, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was... stunning.

Tall, with sharp features and thick eyebrows that gave him an almost commanding presence. A few moles dotted his face, and his eyes were dark, almost mesmerizing, in a way which made your heart race in a way that felt unnatural.

But what really made your stomach flutter was the fact that you’d never seen him before.

Was he in this class?

You racked your brain, trying to recall if you had ever noticed him in the hallways or anywhere else on campus, but nothing came to mind.

He seemed to notice you staring at him, and a sly smile tugged at his lips. He leaned a bit closer, as if he didn’t mind the attention at all, his voice smooth and confident when he spoke.

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You blinked, caught off guard by the casualness of his tone. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

He chuckled softly, and you felt a strange sensation wash over you, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was unsettling, but you couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"I'm Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon," he said, his smile widening slightly.

You blinked again, now fully aware of how close he was. "Oh, uh, nice to meet you."

You forced a smile, but your heart was beating too fast. There was something about him, something that felt off—but also familiar.

Why did it feel like he already knew you?

The class went by as usual, the minutes dragging on in a haze. Sunghoon didn't speak much after you introducing yourself, but every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you, his dark eyes glimmering with something you couldn't quite place. You tried to ignore the unease creeping up your spine and focused on the lesson.

By the time class ended, you were relieved to be able to leave. You needed some time to clear your head.

When you arrived at the library, you clocked in and slid behind the counter, but quickly growing bored, you leaned forward and opened the computer, deciding to look up something to distract you. You typed in "demon books," half expecting it to pull up some weird conspiracy theory, but to your surprise, a result popped up. There was a book, right there in the archives—on demons.

Your curiosity flared. This was what you needed.

You grabbed a pen and jotted down the shelf number before heading to the stacks. When you arrived, your eyes searched the shelves, scanning for the number you’d written down. There it was—just out of reach. The book you wanted sat high on the shelf, taunting you. You stretched on your toes, reaching as far as you could, but it was no use. You could feel the frustration rising as you considered your options.

As you were about to give up and turn away, a hand shot up from behind you, effortlessly reaching the book and pulling it down.

You turned around, heart skipping a beat. There, standing just behind you, was Sunghoon. He held the book you had been struggling to get, his expression unreadable.

“Need this?” he asked, his voice casual, almost too smooth.

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. Something about the way he said that sent a strange shiver down your spine. It was as if he knew exactly what you were searching for, as if he had been waiting for you to look it up.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the book from him, but your hand brushed against his for a moment longer than necessary. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, your face flushing.

“No problem,” he replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “Figured you needed a little help.”

You watched him disappear into the rows of books, and the unease from earlier returned, settling deep into your bones.

You don’t even realize what you've walked into, do you? Your deliciousness is like a siren's song, luring me in, and I am a lost soul, destined to follow. I've got you now, and I won't let you go. I'll devour every last piece of you, leaving no part untouched, for you're a feast that I'll savor forever.

Your beauty, it's like a spell, casting a shadow over my heart, and I want to take and take, until you give me everything, for I crave the taste of your soul, the essence of your being.

I think of your skin, smooth as silk, and how it feels under my touch. I imagine the taste of your lips, sweet like nectar, and how they'd satisfy my every craving. I envision your body, and how it yields to my every caress.

I'll trace the map of your body with my hands, my lips, and my heart, marking every inch as my own.

I'll feast on your lips, kiss by kiss, until my soul is satiated. I'll drink from the well of your desire, quench my thirst, and be nourished by your passion. I'll explore the depths of your pleasure, discover the peaks of your ecstasy.

And when I've had my fill, my sweet, I'll still want more. For you're an endless ocean, a bottomless pit of pleasure, and I can never quench my thirst. I'll always want to dive deeper, explore further, and discover more.

You stared at the book in your hands as you made your way back to the counter. And once you sat behind the counter, you placed the book down in front of you, the sound of the pages flipping echoing softly in the quiet library.

You opened the book, the musty scent of old pages filling your nose as you began flipping through it, scanning the words and images. Each page was filled with descriptions of various demons, their powers, their origins, and their terrifying abilities. But you kept your focus, searching for the section you had come here for.

Incubus demons.

When you finally reached the right section, your heart pounded in your chest. The words jumped off the page, unsettlingly familiar. It was like the book was confirming everything you had felt and the more you read, the clearer it became that this was no coincidence.

Incubi, it said, were demons who thrived on energy—specifically life force. They were known to seduce their victims, using dreams, lust, and an overwhelming need for intimacy to drain them. They were powerful, manipulating their prey until they were completely drained, their energy absorbed by the demon.

But what caught your eye was the last part.

"Once an incubus claims someone, it forms a bond—one that cannot be easily broken. The victim becomes a vessel, their soul linked to the demon’s for eternity."

You froze, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. Eternity. Was that what had happened to you? Had you unknowingly made a pact with something otherworldly?

You could feel your pulse quicken as your mind raced. Had you been claimed by the demon? Was it already too late to turn back?

You closed the book abruptly, the sound of it thudding against the counter loudly. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach twisted, and for a brief moment, you thought you might collapse right there.

Just then, you heard a voice, soft but clear, cutting through the storm of thoughts in your head.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up, startled, and saw Sunghoon standing there, a stack of books in his hands. His eyes were searching your face, brows furrowed in concern.

"Uh... yeah, I’m fine," you stammered, trying to act normal. But you could feel the flush creeping up your neck, the words of the book still fresh in your mind. You quickly gathered your composure and grabbed the books from him, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feelings swirling inside you.

You ran the books through the system, scanning the barcodes one by one, all the while acutely aware of how close Sunghoon was standing.

As you glanced down at the books, you couldn't help but notice the titles—all of them were romance novels. It felt... strange. You glanced back at Sunghoon, trying to read his expression.

"Romance, huh?" you said, attempting to make small talk as you finished scanning the last one. "Didn’t peg you for someone into these kinds of books."

He chuckled softly, a low, smooth sound that made your heart skip again. "I’m not really. But, you know, sometimes it's good to pretend."

You blinked, unsure if you were reading too much into the comment. His smile didn’t help—he always had that air of mystery, like he was saying something and nothing at the same time.

"Thanks for helping with the book earlier," you added, trying to steer the conversation back to something neutral. "I appreciate it."

He shrugged, grabbing the books from on the counter. "No problem. Just looking out for you."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. It felt like more than just a casual statement. Like he knew something you didn’t. Something you didn’t want to know.

You tried to push the feeling down. You had to stay focused. "Anything else you need?" you asked, attempting to keep things professional.

Sunghoon just smiled again, that strange glimmer in his eyes never fading. "For now, no," he said, his tone teasing. "But I’ll be around."

When your shift finally ended, the night had already settled in, the streets now cast in shadows. You clutched your bag tightly as you walked, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Eventually, you found yourself at the bridge, standing on the edge, the water below reflecting the lights.

You opened your bag, pulling out the crimson red book, the one you had tried so desperately to get rid of. As you held it, you could feel something radiating from it—a pull, tempting you to keep it, to keep following.

You shook, unable to tear your gaze away from the book, as if it were alive, trying to draw you into its dark power. What had happened to you? What had you gotten yourself into?

A cold sweat broke out along your spine, and for a moment, you thought you might lose control. With trembling hands, you lifted the book to toss it into the water, ready to rid yourself of it once and for all.

But just as you were about to throw it off the bridge, you heard a voice behind you, low and rough.

"Hey," the voice called out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you turned around.

Standing there was a man—a stranger. His features were sharp, his eyes narrowed in a way that made your stomach turn. There was something off about him, something unsettling in the way he watched you. His gaze was degrading, as if he had already sized you up.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here alone?" he asked, his voice slithering through the air.

You instinctively took a step back, clutching the book tighter in your hands, there was no mistaking the way his eyes lingered on you, his stare lingering a little too long.

His lips twisted into a grin, and it made your blood run cold. "You don't look like you're in a hurry to leave."

His tone, that smile—everything about him screamed danger, your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you fought the urge to run, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.

Your breath caught in your throat as the man took a step toward you, his hand reaching out with an unsettling determination. This was it. He was going to—

Suddenly, there was a sharp thud, and the man was thrown backward, crashing to the ground with a pained grunt.

You gasped, startled, and watched in disbelief as a familiar figure stepped besides you.

Sunghoon.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the man, throwing a fist that landed with a sickening crack against the stranger’s face. The man tried to scramble to his feet, but Sunghoon was relentless, his fists moving with precision, each punch landing harder than the last. You could hear the force of each strike, the sound of flesh hitting bone. The man barely had a chance to defend himself, crumpling beneath the force of Sunghoon’s blows.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, transfixed by the brutal scene before you. There was something terrifyingly powerful about Sunghoon right now, his movements were swift and calculated, as if he were punishing the man for something more than just the assault on you.

Your hands shook as you held the book tighter to your chest, you didn’t know why, but it felt like it was alive, pulsing in your grip.

The book was vibrating, faintly at first, but then stronger, almost as though it was purring, responding to the violence — to you.

You ignored it, trying to focus on what was happening in front of you. Sunghoon wasn’t stopping, his anger mounting with each punch.

The man on the ground groaned, clearly dazed, unable to defend himself. Finally, Sunghoon stopped, standing over the man, his breath coming in heavy, measured gasps.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Sunghoon said, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze unwavering. He turned to look at you, eyes locking with yours.

You were still frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t make sense of it all. The way Sunghoon was acting, the way he looked at you—it was like he wasn’t the same person you’d met in the library. This was someone else.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice softer now, though there was still a sharpness to it.

You nodded, though your voice felt stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even find the words to thank him, or to ask why he’d come out of nowhere to help you. Why was he here?

Sunghoon glanced down at the man on the ground, his expression unreadable, before he turned to you again, taking a step closer.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice more comforting this time, though the intensity never fully left his gaze.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the book tighter, trying to shake off the strange feeling it was giving you.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning you before he helped you steady yourself.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, his tone lighter, he glanced at the book in your hands, and that smile of his grew, just slightly, as if pleased.

He led you away from the bridge, the cool night air now feeling heavy around you. His presence beside you was comforting, but at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the sense that he was guiding you in more ways than one.

You looked up at him, and he caught your gaze, his smile widening ever so slightly. "Seems like you’ve taken quite the interest in that," he said, his voice soft but with an edge you couldn’t quite place. "You’re holding it tightly."

Your fingers ached as you continued to clutch the book to your chest, your heart still hammering from the encounter. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"You shouldn’t have to worry anymore," he said, his voice lowering. “You’re safe now.”

Then why did something not feel right? Sunghoon was far too calm, too understanding. As if he already knew everything—everything that had been happening to you.

The way he looked at you, like he was watching, waiting for something.

And for the first time, you realized something that made your stomach twist in unease.

He wasn’t just helping you.

He was guiding you.

The moment you stepped through the door of your apartment, you immediately noticed it. The book was still pressed against your chest, and for the first time, it felt almost suffocating. You hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding onto it the entire time—your knuckles white. It was like it had become a part of you, and that realization twisted something deep within your gut.

You couldn't stand it anymore.

Without even thinking, you hurled the book against the wall, your heart racing as the impact caused it to thud loudly, the book sliding to the floor. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat, as if your body had finally caught up to the chaos inside your mind.

For a moment, there was silence. The book lay on the floor, the cover staring up at you, as if mocking your decision. But you were too exhausted to care anymore. Too worn out by everything that had happened.

You stumbled fowards, your legs giving way, and before you knew it, you were sinking onto the couch. Your mind was foggy, too tired to think. Your body ached, your head pounded, but the exhaustion was overpowering. The last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut was the book, sitting on the floor.

And the only thing you could think of as you drifted off was how you felt that it wasn’t done with you yet.

You felt so... relaxed? It was like your body was weightless, wrapped in warmth and comfort. The air was thick, almost too hot, and the bed beneath you felt too soft, like sinking into a cloud. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling above you. A grand queen-sized bed stretched out beneath you, luxurious sheets tangled around your legs.

Your head was still foggy, like you were waking from a deep, dreamless sleep. But the discomfort of the heat around you was immediate, and you instinctively pushed the covers away, trying to breathe through the thick air.

That’s when you felt it.

A weight on your body, pressing down, holding you where you lay. Your breath hitched as the sensation of someone’s lips—warm, urgent—pressed against yours. The shock of it made your chest tighten, and you gasped, eyes wide as you tried to push the figure off of you, only to find you couldn’t move.

A voice, soft but laced with something darker, echoed in your mind, almost like a whisper, “Give in.”

Your body stiffened, the words familiar yet chilling. The lips on yours were insistent, coaxing you into submission. You couldn't understand—how did you get here? Why was everything so warm? And why did you feel this strange pull?

The kiss deepened as your breath quickened, and the moment your hands tried to reach above you, they tightened their grip. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

You wanted to push away. You wanted to scream. But you couldn’t. You were trapped in this sensation, helpless.

You felt so good. So pleasant. Every part of you hummed with a warmth, an overwhelming comfort, like sinking into the softest dream. But with it came an exhaustion, a draining weariness you couldn't fight.

As the lips moved from your mouth down to your jaw, trailing soft, slow kisses, you felt your body go limp beneath them. You tried to stay alert, to keep your mind sharp, but the sensation was too much. The warmth, the pleasure, it was like it was melting you from the inside out. Your energy, your strength, seemed to vanish with every kiss, every press of lips against your sensitive skin. You couldn't fight it. It felt too good.

A small gasp escaped your lips as they moved lower, their touch leaving a trail of warmth on your neck, then your collarbone. The sensation was both soothing and dizzying, like you were drifting between wakefulness and sleep. You felt so tired, but the pleasure pulling you under kept you from fully giving in.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, quickening with each new kiss, each lingering touch. The sound of your breath was louder than the rest of the world, but even that was fading. You could barely hold onto your thoughts, the desire to move, to push, slipped further and further away.

And then you realized—there was nothing you could do. You didn’t want to.

You felt something deep inside you stir, a craving, a hunger that matched the pull of the lips against your skin. You were being drained, yes, but it also felt like it was what you needed.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to it. You let your body go, let the exhaustion wash over you, let yourself fall into the warmth of the kiss. You didn’t even care where it was leading anymore.

You felt your body give in completely as the lips on your neck paused, lingering there, and you could hear the soft hum of approval, a low sound of satisfaction. And just like that, it was too late to resist.

As you surrendered to the moment, the hands, ever so gently, pushed your shirt up, exposing more of your skin, as the heat in the room seemed to rise.

The lips, now free to explore, trailed kisses down your stomach, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. His hands slid down to your waist, he squeezed gently, pulling you closer, and you felt his body press against yours.

You didn’t want to fight it anymore. Your body was giving in, responding to him, reacting in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was as though you were caught in a web, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

His lips moved from your neck, tracing the sensitive line of your jaw before they found your lips again, kissing you. The kiss was hungry now, deeper. You felt his hands tighten around you, as though he couldn’t get close enough, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

And somehow, it felt... right.

You felt so hazy, your mind clouded by a warm, soothing fog that made it impossible to think clearly. Everything was blurred, all thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. The weight of your body felt distant, like you were floating. You couldn’t move your limbs, couldn’t even feel them anymore.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of the lips that pressed gently against yours, warm and insistent. Every time they left, it felt like you were waiting, craving the return of that contact. And when they did, you kissed them back instinctively, your lips parting slightly to welcome them.

"Let go," it murmured softly, the sound of it like silk against your mind. "Enjoy this. Let the pleasure take over. You deserve it."

You shivered, feeling the warmth of the words settle deep inside you, pushing aside any lingering doubts, any hesitation. The voice continued, coaxing you, convincing you that this feeling, this moment, was all that mattered. That you didn’t need to resist, that you could simply surrender and feel everything without fear.

There was no fight left in you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely at peace. You didn’t have to think, you didn’t have to worry— just the feeling of being taken care of, loved, and wanted.

You closed your eyes, lost in the comfort, the warmth, and the voice that guided you deeper into the haze.

You woke up suddenly, your mind heavy, still clouded in a haze, and found yourself lying on the couch. You blinked, trying to shake off the fog, and as you looked around, everything seemed perfectly normal.

One thing wasn't normal, though. It was the warmth, the sticky, almost suffocating heat clinging to your skin, like honey trapping you in its sweetness. The sensation was odd, and it was paired with an exhaustion that weighed you down, a tiredness so deep you could barely keep your eyes open.

You managed to sit up and push yourself to your feet, dragging yourself to the bathroom, needing to see your reflection, needing to understand what was happening. The mirror greeted you with an unexpected shock.

Your neck and collarbone were covered in marks—deep, almost bruised-looking impressions, some faint, others dark, like someone had pressed their lips into your skin too hard, leaving their mark. You barely recognized the face staring back at you. Your cheeks were flushed, the kind of flush you’d never get from just a long day, and your eyes looked distant.

You kept staring at your reflection, eyes wide in disbelief, and slowly pulled your shirt off, but what greeted you beneath your clothes made your breath catch in your throat.

Handprints. Dark, unmistakable imprints stretched across your waist, your hips, and even down to your thighs. It was like someone had gripped you there with force, leaving their mark on your skin, as if they couldn’t resist claiming every part of you.

You stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. The more you looked, the more it seemed to confirm your theory.

An incubus had done this.

But the memories were murky, like a dream fading in the light of day. You couldn't remember the specifics, but the evidence was undeniable.

You were cursed.

The thought sent a shiver through your body. There was no other explanation. It was all pointing to something beyond your control, something that wanted you, that had claimed you.

But what did it want from you? Why you?

The mirror reflected your confusion, your unease, and your disbelief. Your hand instinctively reached up to touch the marks, your fingers brushing lightly over your skin. Each touch sent a wave of heat through you, a reminder that something was still there, still affecting you, even when you had no idea what was really going on.

Days passed in a strange blur after that. Each time you tried to focus, tried to pull yourself together, the exhaustion dragged you down further. You couldn’t remember when it had started, when your body began to feel like it was no longer your own, but it was now a part of your reality. Every night, you’d find yourself drifting off to sleep, only to wake up once again in that grand bed, under the same warmth, your body burning.

The familiar sensation of lips on yours, the heat of his hands—each kiss drained you, leaving you weak and confused. It felt as though the very life force was being sucked out of you, but you were too tired to resist. Too tired to care. The next morning, you would wake up again, just as exhausted, with the marks on your skin deepening, the imprint of his touch still there. You tried to push through the haze, but it felt like you were walking through quicksand.

And then there was Sunghoon.

He was there for you in ways you couldn’t explain. It started small—offering to walk you to class, making sure you ate something, checking in on you when you seemed too tired to function. You didn’t fight it. You were too exhausted to.

You would often find yourself slumped at the counter, fighting to keep your eyes open, and there he was, showing up with something to drink or a comforting word, offering you a brief respite from the overwhelming fatigue that seemed to cling to your every movement. You didn’t realize at first that you were relying on him, leaning on him without question.

But Sunghoon didn’t mind. In fact, he thrived in this new dynamic, in your dependence on him. He reveled in the way you’d look to him for comfort, for answers, for protection. You didn’t know how much it fed into his desires, how much he enjoyed being the one to offer you care, to have you rely on him completely.

And you? You were too tired to notice. Too lost in the fog of exhaustion, the haze of what was happening to you.

But.. the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the more you began to notice the oddities that you’d once brushed off. He was always there, always watching, always making sure you were okay. But something about him felt... off. It wasn’t just his constant attention—it was the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, before you even asked for it. It was the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, his smile a little too knowing, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did.

Then, there was the issue with his past. Sunghoon never spoke about it. When you asked about his family or where he grew up, his answers were vague, brushing off the topic with a quick change of subject. No traces of a life outside of the moments he spent with you.

It didn’t make sense. You had seen him around campus, so you knew he wasn’t a complete ghost. But there were no photos, no friends tagging him on social media, no history to trace. He was just... there. As if he had stepped out of nowhere and appeared in your life, and now he was all you could focus on.

Something about him felt wrong, and the pieces were starting to fall into place. But you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning on him, allowing him to take care of you. You didn’t know what to think anymore, especially since you were so tired, so lost in the fog of exhaustion that you couldn’t tell if your thoughts were your own or if they were being influenced by something else.

So, you decided to test your theory—to see what would happen if you suddenly started ignoring him. It wasn’t easy. Sunghoon always seemed to find a way to be around you, whether it was sitting next to you in class or showing up at the library while you worked. But you were determined. You stopped texting him back, avoided his gaze, and made excuses to leave whenever he tried to engage you in conversation.

At first, he didn’t seem bothered by it. He would simply smile when you dodged him, as if he already knew why you were doing it. That unnerved you more than anything else. It was like he could see right through you, like he knew your thoughts before you did.

But as the days went on, his demeanor started to shift. His smiles became tighter, his gaze colder, and the once-comforting presence he exuded started to feel suffocating. He wasn’t following you outright, but every time you turned a corner, you’d catch him in your peripheral vision—leaning against a wall, walking just a few steps behind you, always near enough to remind you that he was there.

One night, after a particularly long shift at the library, you came home and collapsed onto your couch, exhaustion washing over you. The moment you closed your eyes, you found yourself back in that bed again.

But this time, there was a whisper. A deep, seductive voice you hadn’t heard before.

"You can’t ignore me forever."

Your eyes snapped open, your heart pounding. You were back on your couch, drenched in sweat, and your hands were trembling. You instinctively gripped the edge of the couch as you tried to ground yourself, but the tremor in your fingers betrayed how shaken you really were. The room was quiet—too quiet. It felt as though something was watching you, just out of sight.

Your gaze darted toward the windows, scanning for any sign of movement, but the curtains were still drawn shut. Slowly, you reached for your phone on the coffee table, wanting the comfort of a light, a distraction—anything. As the screen lit up, you noticed the time. 3:03 a.m.

And then you saw it.

A single notification. It wasn’t from anyone in your contacts, just an unknown number. You hesitated before opening it, dread settling in your stomach like a lead weight. The message read:

"Stop running."

You dropped the phone as though it had burned you, the clatter breaking the suffocating silence. Your breaths came shallow and quick as you stared at the device, afraid it would light up again.

No. This had to stop.

You pushed yourself off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom, your legs weak beneath you. Splashing cold water on your face, you tried to steady your breathing.

You gripped the edge of the sink, your knuckles turning white as you leaned forward, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror. Your breaths came shallow and uneven as you tried to process everything.

It didn’t make sense—none of it did. But your thoughts kept circling back to Sunghoon. His perfect timing, his uncanny presence, the way he seemed to know more than he let on.

Your throat felt dry as you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to say it.

“Sunghoon?”

The sound of his name echoed faintly in the small bathroom. You waited, holding your breath, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest. Nothing happened.

For a moment, you felt ridiculous, like you were spiraling into paranoia. You let out a shaky exhale and closed your eyes, trying to collect yourself. But then, just as you started to relax, you felt it.

A heat began to radiate behind you, warm and heavy, pressing against your back like a presence. The air shifted, and before you could react, a soft whisper brushed against your ear.

“Did you miss me?”

Your eyes snapped open, wide with terror, as you froze in place. The mirror reflected nothing behind you, but the heat remained, and the voice lingered, teasingly low and intimate.

“Y-you’re not real,” you stammered, gripping the sink tighter, refusing to turn around.

The voice chuckled, soft and amused. “Oh, but I am. You called me, didn’t you? Thinking of me? Dreaming of me?”

A shiver ran down your spine as the warmth seemed to creep closer, pressing against you like an invisible embrace. You gasped, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of whatever was behind you.

“I-I wasn’t—”

“Liar,” the voice interrupted, a trace of playfulness in its tone. “You’ve been looking for answers, haven’t you?”

You felt something brush against your shoulder, light as a feather but enough to make your skin tingle. Your breathing quickened as the sensation spread, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

But the voice only hummed in response, low and pleased. “You can’t run from me. You’ve known that all along.”

“I never wanted this!” you shouted, your voice trembling but firm, defiance breaking through your fear. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The air around you grew colder, and suddenly a hand—a firm, invisible grip—wrapped around your throat. You gasped, your hands flying up instinctively to claw at nothing.

“Oh, but you did,” the voice purred, smooth and dark, vibrating through the room. The grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your pulse race, but not enough to harm you. It was a warning.

“You put this on yourself the moment you read the words in that book,” the voice hissed, hot breath fanning over your ear. “Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum. Do you even know what that means?”

You shook your head frantically, tears pricking at your eyes as you struggled against the phantom hand holding you in place. The voice chuckled, low and condescending.

“It means, ‘Who reads me, let our bond be eternal.’ You invited me in.”

Your breath hitched as the words hit you like a punch to the gut. The book. The book in the basement. The words you read aloud.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “It’s just a stupid book. It—it can’t be real!”

The laughter that followed was sharp, almost mocking. “Oh, it’s very real. And now, so am I.”

In the mirror, the reflection began to change. The shadow behind you shifted, growing more defined, more solid. Your eyes widened in horror as the silhouette morphed, taking shape, and then—

There he was.

Sunghoon.

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking him. The sharp jawline, the intense gaze, the faint smirk curling his lips. It was him.

Sunghoon stood behind you, his hand still firmly around your throat, his touch searing and impossible to ignore. His other hand came to rest lightly on your waist, and you shivered under the weight.

“Surprise,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his eyes locked with yours in the mirror.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, panic rising in your chest. “This— you’re not—”

“Not what?” Sunghoon interrupted, tilting his head as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Not human? Not the man who’s been taking care of you? Or not the one who’s been in your dreams, night after night?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. The pieces were falling into place, but they painted a picture you didn’t want to see.

“You were so lonely,” Sunghoon continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “So desperate for someone to understand you. And I came to you, didn’t I? Gave you exactly what you needed.”

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, his grip on your throat loosening just enough for you to take a shaky breath.

“But you’re scared now. Why?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if he already knew the answer. “You’ve enjoyed this, haven’t you? The attention, the way I’ve made you feel.”

“No,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You tricked me. This isn’t what I wanted.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, his reflection in the mirror impossibly calm, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “But you can’t lie to me.”

“We’re bound now, you and I,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with finality. “You can’t run from me. You can’t hide. And deep down, you don’t want to.”

You stared at him in the mirror, your chest heaving, your mind screaming for you to fight back, to do something, anything. But your body betrayed you, frozen in place as Sunghoon’s reflection smiled, dark and triumphant.

His grip tightened around your arms as he suddenly spun you around effortlessly, your back slamming against the cold countertop. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the impact sent a jolt through your body, and you found yourself face to face with him.

Only... it wasn’t entirely him.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you took in his appearance. Sunghoon was still the same—his sharp features, his impossibly handsome face—but now, his true form was on full display.

Two curved, jet-black horns protruded from his head, his ears were pointed, inhumanly sharp, twitching slightly as though attuned to every sound you made. A pair of massive, leathery wings stretched out behind him. His skin held a faint reddish tint now, and his eyes...

They weren’t what you’d grown accustomed to.

They were blood-red, burning with an intensity that made your knees weak.

As your gaze traveled lower, you caught sight of a sleek black tail swishing behind him, the pointed tip moving back and forth like a serpent poised to strike.

“Like what you see?” Sunghoon asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with amusement.

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but no sound came out as you stared up at him, utterly frozen. He leaned in closer, the heat radiating from him making it even harder to think, to breathe.

“You should’ve known,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You should’ve felt it. I’ve been hiding in plain sight this whole time, waiting for you to figure it out.”

“Sunghoon...” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like they were moving through water—slow, weak, powerless.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent heat flooding through your chest. “Still clinging to the illusion, huh? Poor thing.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with an almost tender touch.

“This is the real me,” he said softly, his voice dripping with dangerous charm. “And now that you’ve seen it, there’s no going back.” His wings shifted slightly behind him, the sound making your stomach twist in unease. His tail flicked once, curling against your leg in a way that made your skin crawl—and, to your shame, sent a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible. “This isn’t happening...”

Sunghoon tilted his head, his expression softening just enough to make it even more unsettling. “Lying?” he repeated, his voice almost offended. “Sweet thing, everything I’ve done has been the truth. You just didn’t want to see it.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his red eyes locking onto yours with a hypnotic intensity. “But now you can’t ignore it, can you? You can’t ignore me.”

You gasped, your body trembling as his tail coiled tighter around your leg, holding you in place. “You belong to me now,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice final. “And nothing will change that.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your entire body trembling as you willed it all to disappear. You thought maybe—just maybe—if you denied it long enough, it would go away. That he would go away.

But it didn’t work.

Instead, you heard his low, amused chuckle. The sound was rich and dark, crawling into your ears and embedding itself into your mind.

“You can’t escape me,” he murmured. And before you could protest, his lips crashed against yours, stealing your breath and overwhelming your senses.

The kiss was searing, a fire that burned its way through your body and left you paralyzed. It wasn’t soft or careful—it was commanding, leaving no room for resistance.

Sunghoon...

Sunghoon was an incubus.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to fight, but your body wouldn’t listen. The warmth from his lips spread through you like molten lava, making you weak, making you feel... good. Too good.

You tried to turn your head, to break the connection, but his hand gripped your jaw firmly, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a skill that made your knees feel like jelly, and the heat radiating off him felt almost suffocating.

When he finally pulled back, your head spun, your breaths shallow and uneven. His glowing red eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the satisfaction etched across his face.

“See?” he purred, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re not resisting me.”

You shook your head weakly, trying to deny it. “You’re not... I won’t...” you stammered, but even as the words left your lips, they sounded hollow.

Sunghoon leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You already gave yourself to me the moment you opened that book.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you struggled to comprehend his words. You’d read the words without understanding what they meant, unknowingly binding yourself to him.

“You belong to me now,” he said, his voice soft but firm, his hand trailing down to rest on your waist. “No running. No escaping.”

His tail flicked lazily at his side, as if he were toying with you, enjoying your fear and confusion.

“I’ll take care of you,” Sunghoon continued, his tone shifting to something almost... tender. “You won’t need anyone else. You won’t want anyone else.”

You clenched your fists, trying to fight against the pull he had on you, the way his words seemed to seep into your mind like poison.

“What do you want from me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I already have what I want,” he said simply, his hand tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away. “You.”

His hand slid up to your throat again, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who was in control. You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, and before you could think or protest, his lips captured yours again.

This time, the kiss was more intense. It was intoxicating, a dizzying, heady sensation that left you feeling drunk and high at the same time, though there wasn’t a hint of nausea.

Instead, you felt consumed, like your body and mind were being submerged in a warm ocean. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Your hands gripped the edge of the bathroom counter behind you, trying to ground yourself, but the heat only grew. It curled in your stomach, spread up your spine, and flooded every corner of your being.

Sunghoon’s lips left yours only briefly, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jaw, tracing a path to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You couldn’t respond, your head spinning, your body trembling. Every word he spoke seemed to sink into your skin, fusing with your very being.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing over your ear. “No one else can make you feel like this. No one else can take care of you like I can.”

When he finally pulled back, his red eyes burned into yours, glowing with satisfaction.

“Say it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your pulse. “Say you’re mine.”

You hesitated, your lips parting, but no words came out. Your mind was a swirling mess of emotions, torn between the primal pull he had over you and the small flicker of defiance still burning in your chest.

Sunghoon leaned closer, his smirk returning as he tilted your chin up slightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ll say it soon enough.”

With that, he released you, stepping back just enough to let you breathe, though the heat still clung to your skin like a second layer. Your knees felt weak, your body trembling, and you gripped the counter to keep from collapsing.

“Rest for now,” he said, his tone almost affectionate. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

And with a flick of his tail and a low hum of satisfaction, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bathroom, your body still warm and your mind reeling from what had just happened.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Sunghoon’s persistence wasn’t just some fleeting infatuation—it was something far deeper. When an incubus claimed a human, it seemed, their desire turned into a relentless obsession. Sunghoon took every opportunity to have you, to pull you into the haze of his presence, leaving you breathless and weak in his wake.

In the library, you were shelving books in the far corner, but then, you felt it—the familiar warmth crawling up your spine. Before you could turn, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you against the shelf.

“Sunghoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as his lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry.

The books nearly toppled from the shelf as his body pinned you in place. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tightly before lifting you up effortlessly, your back pressed to the shelf. His kisses left you dizzy, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your jaw, his voice low murmurs.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your body trembling. He smiled, his red eyes glowing faintly. “Couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

In the kitchen, you thought you’d have a moment of peace as you cooked dinner, but of course, he appeared again.

You didn’t even hear him approach before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

“Sunghoon!” you protested, but your voice wavered as his lips found yours, silencing any resistance.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them slightly as he stood between them, his kisses consuming. The heat of the stove was nothing compared to the fire he ignited in you with every touch.

“You taste better than anything you’re cooking,” he teased against your lips, as you shivered under his touch.

Even in class, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. At first, it was subtle—a hand resting on your thigh under the desk. But his touch was anything but innocent. His fingers pressed into your skin, his grip firm enough to leave an imprint through the fabric of your jeans.

One day, you made the mistake of wearing a skirt to class. His reaction was immediate.

His eyes darkened the moment he saw you, his gaze lingering on your legs with a hunger. The skirt seemed to drive him wild, and he didn’t bother to hide the want in his eyes as he took the seat beside you.

During the lecture, his hand found its way to your thigh again, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your bare skin. Every touch sent shivers up your spine, your pulse quickening as his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“You wore this for me, didn’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You didn’t answer, your face burning as you tried to focus on the professor’s voice. But Sunghoon wasn’t letting you off so easily. His hand slid higher, just enough to make you squirm in your seat.

By the end of class, you were a mess, your legs trembling as you tried to stand. Sunghoon, of course, looked perfectly composed.

But one event made you realize just how far Sunghoon's obsession had gone happened unexpectedly.

You had just finished getting ready, dressed to go out to the club, your outfit on point, and your makeup perfectly done. You were about to put on some music for the drive when suddenly, you heard a soft hum from behind you.

The sound was so familiar, so calming that you couldn’t help but pause. The familiar haze crept in, clouding your thoughts. Before you could even process what was happening, you felt a shift in your surroundings. The next thing you knew, you were no longer sitting in the front seat of your car but instead found yourself in the backseat, sitting on Sunghoon's lap.

“You going somewhere?” he asked, his voice smooth, leaning back, his eyes filled with contentment. He seemed to be enjoying the view of you on his lap, your body pressed against his, all dressed up.

You were about to move off, muttering to yourself about how utterly stupid this situation was.

However, before you could push him away, Sunghoon's hands went around your hips. He pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours, and then, with a sudden thrust, he lifted you off his lap.

The movement was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. You let out a surprised squeal as you found yourself being moved to lay down on the backseat. Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing down on yours, his eyes filled with a fiery passion.

You were on the brink of speaking, your mind filled with thoughts you wanted to express, when suddenly, Sunghoon's lips crashed down on yours, silencing your words in an instant.

His lips, soft yet demanding, devoured yours, a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance. Sunghoon groaned into the kiss, a deep, raw sound that reverberated through your core. His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. And as his kiss deepened, you felt him wrap your legs around his hips. You could feel the heat of his body, the solidness of his muscles, and the intensity.

You felt a sudden urge to pull away, to regain some sense of control and composure. With a gentle push, you tried to create some distance between you and Sunghoon. But Sunghoon, ever attuned to your every move, wasn’t about to let you escape so easily. As you tried to shift, reaching for the car door, his hands swiftly grabbed your waist, his strong arms pulling you closer. His chest pressed against your back, and you turned your head, your breath quickening as Sunghoon leaned over, his face now inches from yours.

His voice, soft and teasing, broke through your thoughts. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his tone low, almost playful.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, but you could feel the heat rising between you.

Sunghoon, sensing your hesitation, nuzzled his face against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The soft touch of his lips traced a path along your neck, sending a jolt of warmth through you. You shivered at the sensation, unable to stop the flutter in your chest.

"Sunghoon..." you breathed, trying to push him away again, but his hands tightened around your waist. He didn’t let you move, holding you there.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “You want me to slow down?” he teased, his voice amused.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat between you both. The car, once cool, now felt stifling, the air thick. You glanced over at the windows, noticing that the glass had fogged up, the condensation creeping in.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tried to focus, but it was hard with him so near, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel him pressed against your back, his hands still holding you close.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely a breath, caught between uncertainty and desire. You shifted slightly, trying to pull away, but he gently tugged you back, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“Why resist?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was an edge to it, a quiet demand. His lips brushed against your earlobe, sending another shiver down your spine. “We both know you don’t want to.”

The fog on the windows seemed to grow thicker, the air growing warmer with every passing second, as if the space between you was becoming smaller.

You didn’t answer him right away, just closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to clear your mind.

But Sunghoon's voice broke the silence as he gazed at you. "You look perfect," he said, his eyes roving over your body, taking in every detail. "So delectable, it's as if you're offering yourself on a silver platter."

His hands, which had been resting on your waist, slowly slid downwards, tracing the curves of your hips with a gentle touch.

"I want to ruin your makeup," he said, his voice low. "I want to mark you as mine, to leave my touch on you."

His hands, which had been gently caressing your body, suddenly tightened around your hips. With a swift movement, he flipped you over, and you found yourself lying on your back, staring up at him with surprise.

"I want to look at you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I want to see your beautiful face, your eyes, your lips, as I kiss you."

His lips, soft yet demanding, pressed against yours, a perfect show of passion. His hands roamed freely, tracing the curves of your body. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, a gentle caress that sent a rush of pleasure through your body.

Guess this is what happens when you get claimed by an incubus in love.

a/n: well.. i have no other words. this had been sitting in my drafts for awhile so, yeah :)

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luveline · 3 months ago

Text

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks.

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling.

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him.

“I can’t,” you say.

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.”

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.”

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat.

“James…”

“Just hit me,” he says.

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage.

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.”

“I don’t want to hit you, James.”

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.”

“I’d rather not, though.”

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.”

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.”

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.”

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm.

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest.

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!”

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.”

“I am not punching you in the face.”

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say.

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple.

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests.

You relax.

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.”

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two.

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority.

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.”

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined.

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.”

“Yeah?”

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.”

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint.

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?”

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.”

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?”

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.”

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.”

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift.

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy.

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses.

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?”

“I need stuff.”

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.”

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.”

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance.

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny.

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does.

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?”

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.”

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.”

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…”

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there.

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them.

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise.

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.”

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.”

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.”

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour.

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?”

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.”

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before.

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.”

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues.

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns.

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says.

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.”

“Maybe next time,” you appease.

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks.

You laugh. “She was nice.”

“Very motherly.”

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?”

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.”

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.”

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?”

“No! When?”

“The third.”

“What does he like?”

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.”

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.”

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely.

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction.

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door.

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.”

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.”

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly.

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years.

“How exhausting,” you’d said.

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.”

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames.

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot?

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork.

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat.

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath.

“Everything okay?” you ask softly.

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?”

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending.

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?”

“I’m actually not sure.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.”

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it.

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously.

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?”

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask.

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.”

“Sorry.”

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?”

“I’ll just be in your way.”

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.”

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.”

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly.

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”

“I resent that!” James calls.

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one.

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.”

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.”

“We’re both fine,” you say.

“Were you worried about us?” James asks.

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk.

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company.

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real.

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths.

“Bit my tongue,” you say.

“Ouch,” Remus says.

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually.

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down.

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.”

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased.

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.”

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.”

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.”

“And the rest,” James snorts.

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself.

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask.

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.”

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?”

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask.

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country.

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood.

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.”

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says.

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.”

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask.

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.”

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.”

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly.

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.”

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead.

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Of course.”

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise.

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.”

He’s angry.

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.”

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones.

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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chenlesfavorite · 7 months ago

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NIGHT RIDER, zhong chenle

working night shifts 24/7 at the convenience store while also supporting your boyfriend’s obsession with watching motorcyclists race is not easy, but little did you know that one of the bikers that he loves soon gets involved with you.

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— pairing: motorcyclist!chenle x fem!reader

— genres: social media au (smau), written, slowburn, angsty-ish, fluff, strangers to enemies to lovers (except they're not really enemies.. they just can't stand each other)

— extra: y/n is dating jaehyun (from boynextdoor) but they break up, jaehyun is kinda toxic, chenle is a lil shithead, probably inaccurate descriptions of motorcycle racing, y/n and chenle are crackheads when together

— warnings: lots of death jokes, profanity, everything in this story is pure fiction and not an actual depiction of how they act!!

— authors note: my 2nd smau!! this one will be pretty different from got my ion you and hopefully better 🤭 i’m super excited for this one ngl..

— status: finished

— taglist: closed

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profiles 1 | profiles 2

1. fuckass job and bf worries

2. 40 dollars?!

3. kicked out (half smau/half written)

4. easy forgiveness

5. victim of bad boyfriendism

6. where’s the apology?

7. a fool in love

8. he’s a sim now!

9. scary stares

10. surprise dinner (fully written)

11. sensing something... ah yes, jaemrina

12. the long awaited breakup

13. living life to the fullest and fuck chenle!

14. or maybe… don’t fuck chenle?

15. bad energy and mewing

16. the witch is coming

17. good job, genius!

18. the race (fully written)

19. nightmare wishes

20. is it the end of the world?

21. apologies are in order… oh and you’re not that bad

22. single and ready to mingle

23. yuta, the rizzler

24. yes, a date is happening!

25. stood up (half smau/half written)

26. we’ll forget about it… right? (half smau/half written)

27. hooked by why don’t we vibes

28. prince sugarplums the 5th

29. she’s not my lovergirl! / he’s not my man!

30. who want backshots?

31. his true feelings (half smau/half written)

32. send help… or maybe don’t?

33. ho is u coo?

34. find her asap

35. king of racing (fully written)

36. nothing more than a bad decision

37. no deep meaning behind it

38. oddly specific lyrics

39. jaemrina sailed!

40. talk to me, please

41. hate you & miss you

42. mission get cheny/n to make up

43. mission accomplished (fully written)

44. our sims are getting married 100%

45. my angel

— end —

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marsdql · 2 months ago

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𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ p. childhood boyfriend!sim jaeyun ⤫ 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳﹒wc: 9.2к﹒g. romantic drama, emotional romance, angst, slowburn, light fluff﹒cw. emotional distress, ghosting and abandonment, suidical thoughts, mental health struggles, manipulation, past trauma, reconciliation and healing, triggers of emotional abuse, toxicity, high levels of angst and emotional intensity, mild references to past toxic relationships. @wheretheheckis-ssaki

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ synopsis ﹒During middle school, you and a boy in your friend’s class—named Sim Jaeyun—were inseparable, you both had your own friendg roup, he was a popular guy on the soccer team while you were a normal girl, yet would talk to each other on the phone everyday the second the bell rang. You both eventually fell for each other but had to keep your relationship private due to drama with girls. A year later—after everyone found out about you guys, he unexpectedly distanced—then disappeared. 10 years later, when you move to France for a few weeks due to a project in uni, you and Jake cross paths once again. (NOT PROOFREAD)

Sim Jaeyun, he was the best boyfriend I could ever think of having, he was my first love, definitely. It started in the seventh grade, when he was in class 7G—the same class as my friends. I remember when my bestfriend first told me about how he’d catch people playing Roblox in class and signal it to the entire class—that’s when I started teasing him—he was my best friends locker buddy, so I’d see him everyday.

Everytime id see him—when he would be arguing about something stupid with his classmates, I’ll snarl at him, “shut up Jake! Go play your Roblox!”. For some odd reason, he was REALLY talkative, but the second I’d say that, he’d just shut up. He’d smile at me and continue packing his things to get to the bus, forgetting about the entire conversation he had with the people next to him.

Until one day, another normal day of me telling him the same line, he actually responded this time. ‘How about you go play Roblox, huh?’ He said. ‘Okay, I will then, make sure you join me in jayjay simulator!!!’ I replied—I don’t know why I said “jayjay”, it just came out—soon enough, that would be the name all the girls would start calling him—because of me. As I walked away with my bestfriend—heading to the bus, I whispered to her, “hey, you know, Jake is kinda cute.”

— rest below cut ! —

Later that day, I decided to add him on my phone, message him—tease him a little bit more, he was funny—his reactions. He wasn’t like other boys, when you’d argue with him, he’d do it in a goofy way, he wouldn’t say actual harmful stuff—not to me Atleast.

- Jake: who is this?

- You: You didn’t join me in jayjay simulator. :(

- Jake: Hehe, yes I did!!!

He was so cute, even his messages were adorable. Whenever I’d playfully roleplay and fake random situations, people would call me childish, but with him, he’d play along, fully convincing eachother that everything we said was real.

I was determined to talk to this guy everyday, I’d find a random topic that has been spreading around our grade so that everyday, after school, I’d message him, using it as an excuse to talk to him. And it worked! I noticed that he’d even find some stuff too, so that he could message me. Once, he asked me for anime recommendations even though everyone knows him and his friendgroup hated anime, they made fun of it—except for blue lock of course—since it’s football related.

During my pe class, his friends that were in my class were destroying me in badminton—they weren’t that good…..but I just sucked at the sport! He peeked in, hoping to waste time from his class, and I screamed “Jake!!! Help me, your friends are bullying me…”

he was such a nice person to me, I’d tease him and say that he was rude in order to keep talking to him—in my mind, if I was accusing him of something, it’d be another reason for him to keep responding to me— and of course, it worked, I’m just a genius.

We were genuinely so funny, we both wanted to talk to eachother whenever we had the chance, but didn’t know how. Our biggest highlight was when we’d send random emojis to eachother for 4 hours straight just because we had no conversation anymore.

On February 14th, at the valentines dance, we were pressured to hug by the crowd. At this point, I had the biggest crush on him but nobody knew. Since he was popular and quiet talk compared to the other boys(puberty hit him the earliest), most of my friends fancied him. I was stuck, how could I tell my friends that I liked him first, when I never told them? Anyway, we didn’t hug, we’re both so awkward and to be honest, I’m glad we didn’t, it’s too cringe hugging like that!

When we got home, he messaged me, telling me he’s sorry he didn’t hug me because….. his teacher was watching and didn’t want him to tell his parents??? What a stupid excuse… That’s not the point, Y/n get back into the topic! I don’t remember how we got to the conversation but we were talking about crushes, who we liked. I kid you not, it took us 3 hours to confess, and it was so obvious we were saying we liked each other! We kept asking each other for hints, obvious ones. But eventually, we both said each others name at the same time. I remember so vividly that I was playing cards with my brother, unable to focus because of the joy I was feeling after reading my name pop up.

Now that I look back at it, I realize how mature we were for our age, even though we confessed, we didn’t do anything about it, we didn’t start dating or anything—just got really awkward, stopped talking in real life after that…

Fast forward the summer of 7th grade, when we got together July 2nd at 2am. To be honest, it wasn’t the way I expected it to be.

A girl from my grade messaged me:

- g/n: Hey! You’re close to Jake, right?

- You: Hi g/n! And yeah, I am, why?

- g/n: well… me and him have been messaging for 2 weeks now and I kinda like him. I was hoping you’d help me?

I beg your pardon? Me? Help you? I don’t even know this girl, all I knew was that she was some popular girl in a big friendgroup. That friendgroup was always around jake’s, they craved their attention so much—it disgusted me. But, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend, who am I to say no, maybe he likes her.

I helped her that entire night—telling her to text him certain things that only I knew he’d enjoy. They started doing the same thing me and him did on Valentine’s Day, guessing each other’s crushes, it took me aback, I self sabotaged myself—for no reason at all. During all of it, he was messaging me at the same time, acting a sweet to me. For no reason at all, he sent me this out of context message, “Y/n, I enjoy messaging you a lot.” Seconds later,

- g/n: He was taking too long to tell me his crush so I just told him I like him and asked if he wants to get together!

What? Did I just read that right… I acted as if I didn’t see her message and went to respond to jake’s instead. “Oh really?” I questioned him, my heart was beating so fast at this point, I didn’t know what was going to happen, it has been months and we’re still in a talking stage, surely he wouldn’t get with a girl he started talking to just 2 weeks ago, right? That’s what I thought until another message popped up.

- g/n: GIRL OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU HE JUST SAID YES OMGOMG.

the second she said that, he responded to me, “yeah, I really do, you’re my favourite person to talk to.” Oh heck no. I’m hysterically sobbing—what the hell?

Okay I can’t do this deep detail stuff, fast forward again—he told me and the girl goodnight—well actually, he only told the girl goodnight, I’m the one who told him goodnight before he could say anything else because I was so close to blocking him. But, I couldn’t hold it in, I had to confront him.

- You: Jake, I know you’re not asleep, respond

- Jake: What’s up?

- You: Tell me now, who’s your crush?

- Jake: you already know who

- You: no I don’t, who is it

- Jake: you

- You: then why did you just ask out g/n?

- Jake: who told you

- You: it doesn’t matter who told me, answer me.

- Jake: I promise you I’ll tell you when you tell me who told you

I tried so hard to keep my composure, but I told him everything. Then, I asked him politely, “who do you want? Me or g/n?” no intention in making him choose between us, I genuinely wanted to know because I didn’t want to be lead on if he liked g/n—and I didn’t want g/n to be lead on in this relationship if he liked me. I never made him choose between us, I simply asked him who he liked because he just agreed to dating a girl 2 hours ago and is now telling me he likes me, anyone in my situation would’ve done that, right?

- Jake: you I pick you

- Jake: I want you

- Jake: I’m so sorry I was just desperate for someone and I thought you liked one of my friends at this point, I was so desperate I just agreed to her.

We got together right after he broke up with her the following morning—maybe it was kind of stupid of us to do it so soon, but we were both waiting in eachother since the day we confessed all those months ago, it was summer, everything felt right, we had a huge conversation that night and talked about eachother and all our hidden secrets til 4am. In that conversation, we also made it clear that we would keep our relationship private because he had friends who liked me and I also had multiple who liked him.

Riingg ! — back into reality.

8:00am, you get up, brush your teeth, and your hair, wear a basic outfit you barely looked at before picking, and walk to the train station—waiting a few minutes for it to arrive.

There goes your alarm, woah, you just experienced your entire love story with Jake again, in a dream—you almost thought it was real. You're now 22, can’t believe that all happend 10 years ago. It feels as if it happend yesterday. Although, a lot has changed since then, You're not the same as before, you arent in middle school, or high school at all—but rather studying medicine in one of your dream universities. Your personality has changed a lot, the way you act has matured a lot aswell—you now know that you don’t need to be a brat in order to get people’s attention, hah…

Although your life has changed, the place to where your mind wanders hasn’t. You still remember the time you and Jake risked a day to go on a field trip downtown to a haunted house in the 8th grade—right after summer. You remember all the stares you got as you walked together—not even holding hands or anything, just simply walking. Everyone would ship you guys together—yet got so mad when they suspected that you two were dating.

A few days—not even—a few hours after the field trip, pictures of me and him were spreader everywhere. I was officially done for. My friends had left me a little before it all, I was already dealing with that loss—and now, I had to deal with the entire population of girls in my grade hating on me—simply for hanging out with a friend everyone knew I was close to.

I just didn’t get it. Everyone would ship us, everyone knew we were close, we didn’t even kiss—or hold hands—or hug—or anything! Why did everyone get so mad? They didn’t know or get the confirmation that we were dating—so why did I get ignored by everyone so secretively? Nobody talked to me about it, rumours spread about me and only me—about Jake—just me. The worse thing was, I didn’t have a say in anything. Nobody could say anything to my face, it was all behind my back, nobody dared to say anything while I was around, I never found out what they said—only small details of my last remaining friends that would overhear small stuff from crowds.

That’s basically how my entire 8th grade was like. I know some people would see it as a compliment that nobody could say anything to my friend—not even humiliate or bully me for it, but I felt as if it was the biggest curse ever. I never had a chance to speak about it, talk my feelings.

The worse part is—Jake said it was going to be okay, he didn’t care about what people thought about us. But just a month after the entire incident—he ghosted me for two weeks, came back to say sorry then did it again for two weeks. Then, it became a month and came back later to talk about how he was moving to France at the end of the year. I knew about it already, I was the only person he told, but it felt so much wise because he was talking about it during a period where he was just constantly ghosting me.

It was soon going to be his birthday so I decided to send him a huge paragraph:

I’ve deleted every single person off my Snapchat to make sure we keep that “you and Jake have been each other's number one best friend for 2 months!” Even though it’s been almost a year since we had it, you know it only changes from 2 weeks, 2 months and two years. Yet still, you lost it. So so busy of you to lose that feature, texting someone else. I saw you online for a good 3 hours. How are you busy?

I said I don’t mind if you’re busy because we each have our own lives, but you’re completely ghosting me.

I can’t take a single apology from you anymore it makes me even more angry and frustrated I hate how much you take advantage of me because you know I’ll be the first to say “it’s alright” or “don’t think about it too much, I forgive you” and completely forget about every single breakdown I’ve had because of you.

I hate all of your sorry messages I hate the way I felt so happy each time you apologize even though you never changed, I hate when I begged you to stop calling you a bad boyfriend even though you are not only a bad boyfriend but the worst newest person that entered my life, I hate how much I can’t stop loving you despite all of the pain and hatred I’m getting from you, I hate how much I miss the times you were actually excited to text me, I hate it when I actually believed that you’d love me forever, I hate it when we talked about our future together and how we both prayed to be soulmates, I hate how you’re always the first thing that comes to mind when I wake up, do something, cry, laugh, lay down, work, and every single other thing I do in my life. I hate how much I love you more than you love me and I hate even more how much I’m aware of it. I hate the night you killed me inside and still found a way to make me happy in the end with your tricks. I hate how happy you look in real life when I see you with your friends knowing I have one friend and always have to plan ahead if she’s not here, how I have problems with everyone and even that current friend I’m not happy around, compared to you and your amazing friend group where everyone loves you and you love them.

I hate how you still manage to have a smile on your face even when we’re not texting. I don’t understand how much I hate you right now but it’s not hate as in how much I hate my old friends, it’s a hate of sadness and of “how could you do this to me” hate. I hate you so much I can’t get rid of you. I love you too much and that’s why I hate you. I hope to one day look back at my 8th grade and hopefully say that all this pain was all worth it in the end because I’ve ruined my childhood so much 7-8th grade because of you.

Tomorrow January 12 2024 will be the day me and you met last year. We’ve known each other for a year. Why does it feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I’ve felt miserable since birth? I can't do this anymore.

I wish I could be as happy as you when you’re with your friends, I wish I could be as careless as you, I wish I could go months without texting their partner just like you, I wish I didn’t need to worry if someone’s going to leave me or not, I wish I could have peace and calmness in my life, I wish I had friends I actually enjoyed, I wish I didn’t need to feel so lonely all the time, I wish I didn’t have to look down whenever I see you in the hallways so that I don’t embarrass myself, I wish I wasn’t always so angry, I wish I didn’t care so much about everything, I wish I wasn’t sensitive, I wish I was crying right now, I wish I could leave and forget everyone I met last and this year including you, I wish I didn’t start talking to you, I wish I was your first and only option, I wish I didn’t think of you everytime a song came up, I wish I didn’t think of you when I see something that I know you like, I wish I could find an end to all the things that come up to mind that don’t stop flowing when I’m writting these, I wish I didn’t waste all that money on you, I wish that Snapstreak I paid back for because you lost it, wasn’t lost again because you just didn’t feel like doing it anymore, I wish I didn’t cry to sad songs because they remind me of you, I wish I didn’t see myself in every mentally unstable situation, I wish I could go to sleep peacefully, I wish you were there when I needed you most, I wish you felt the way I felt, I wish you experienced the stuff I went through, I wish you could understand how I feel, I wish you would listen to me for once, I wish you’d understand the things I feel, I wish you knew how much I’m hurting, I wish I could tell someone about all my problems without feeling guilty afterwards, I wish I could shut my mouth up and stop talking so much especially when nobody enjoys it, I wish you’d snap-text me the way we used to, I wish you’d randomly tell me how much you love me like before, i wish you would beg me for forgiveness when you’d forget to reply for like 5 mins unlike how you leave me on delivered on purpose for 2 days now, I wish you felt grateful for me still being here, I wish I could move places and forget everything, I wish my sins weren’t all on my back even though I’m trying to move on, i wish I could move on from you, I wish I could forget about you the way you so easily forgot about me, I wish I could go to sleep without crying, I wish I could stop listening to my thoughts, I wish everyone would like me like you, I wish you’d understand everything and everyone I lost because I was with you, I wish you’d see how much people hate me because I’m with you and they were jealous, I wish you realize that i didn't care about how I have no friends because I knew I’d be able to talk to u when I get back home, that’s why I’m hurting so much now.

I wish you could ignore the girls that try to hit you up, just like how I do with the boys that simply want to be my friend, I wish you understood how stupidly I miss you, I wish you could treat me how I wish a man could treat me, I wish you’d never leave to France, I wish you never find a new person in France, I wish you’d understand how I can’t live without you anymore and it’s all your fault, I wish you’d see and understand that I feel so worried because I don’t want to lose you, I wish you’d comprehend that I wouldn’t get jealous for no reason and that I was overprotective but rather that you’re my first love and I’m scared of losing you, I wish you’d understand how much I try to talk to you and be around you, I wish you know and see how I finish all my work early or do it later just to try and be able to talk to you as much as I can, I wish you’d know how I’m writing all of this right now instead of revising for my test tomorrow. I wish I wouldn’t feel so tired after crying about you for just a few minutes, I wish my eyes weren’t always heavy because of you and crying because of you, I wish I could stop loving you forever.

Happy birthday Jake! Whenever I write ur name it always pops up as “JAKEEE” and it might sound stupid but I smile everytime I see it. I’m writing this at 11:19pm, on a day where you’re ghosting me, again for the second time. I don’t know what’s the reason this time, knowing you couldn’t keep your promise of not doing it again that you said not even a week ago.

I hope you’re aware I’m not stupid, I see when you’re online, I know you’ve left me on delivery for two days on purpose. When I said I don’t know about your reason “this time”, I in fact don’t know a lot of things that you do. When you’re in trouble I know you go on your phone for a couple minutes, you just decide to not even check up on me with that time. It sounds pathetic and unimportant but in my point of view it’s the most gut wrenching thing to know because I would, without a doubt, pick you out of everyone to talk to if I was going to die and had one last chance to talk to someone.

I’m typing all of this and I’m not even sure if we’ll make it till your birthday but, I’ve decided to completely forget about you when it hits 2024 if you still kept ghosting me because I wanna turn into a new person and throw away my past and all my old mistakes behind me that have been affecting my present. I try so hard to give myself excuses about you not texting, maybe you’re doing something with your parents like you said you were doing, maybe it was a surprise trip! But then I think more and realize that if you wanted to text me and say why you couldn’t text, you would’ve and if you couldn’t, you would’ve tried.

I hate how much I love you and I hate how much I’m aware that you don’t love me the same amount. My December is the absolute definition of “Hell”. I decided to wait for winter break to talk to you all about it and make myself better. What a fool I was for waiting and thinking you’d still text me the same. I hate how we text now, I don’t care about anything I just wanna feel special texting you the way we used to.

When I used to always tell you how tired I am based on how tired you are(like when you weren't tired and I was, I’d lie and say I wasn’t either, don’t know if you know what I’m talking about) I’d say it because I know myself, I know how if you were sad I’d be sad, if you’re happy I’m happy, when you’re not around I’m sad and when you’re around I’m happy.

You don’t understand the times I Thanked god each time you texted me back, even when it turned into an argument. I rather argue with you instead of no contact. That's how much I enjoy texting you. No matter how much I’ve cried and felt miserable being with you at times, I can’t seem to let you go. No matter how many boys that have liked me and I’ve never told you about, I decided to ignore and move on with my life. No matter how handsome they were, I myself don't understand why I see something in you that I don’t see with anyone else. Not being able to let you go is what kills me and I physically cannot live without you.

I can’t live a few hours without you, especially when I don't know the reason why you’re gone. When you told me you leave the people you don’t like texting on delivery, you told me that February 2023, a few days before the Valentine’s dance. If I told my February 2023 self that I’d be one of those people you keep on delivering, I’d laugh and start talking about how you’re such an amazing person.

And what’s worse is, I still laugh at myself and talk the best about you, even when I know deep down all the things I would rather swallow glass than go through again when I was with you.

I remember all our memories like it was yesterday, Jan 12, the first conversation when I added you on discord and you asked me “who is this” and i replied with “why didn’t you join me in nana simulator”. That day when going in the bus I told ____ “hey that Jake guy is kinda cute” but didn’t think it would get this far.

The time you made that stupid lie about not hugging me because mister ____ was there and u didn’t want ur parents to know.. I knew it was a lie, and I wasn’t upset that you didn’t hug me, I was uncomfortable as well at that moment, I was upset because someone hit me.

The night you got with g/n that was the same night you got with me. Every single conversation we had I remember it, even the stupid moment when you said you only liked g/n 40%. You say a lot of stupid things that turn out funny, that’s why I try to make myself feel better thinking you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but I forget that you’re not a child and you know everything you do.

I seriously wish I was lying when I say I never cried this much in my life except when I met you, even now. Right now, you’re even active on Instagram and of course I’m still on delivery. I’ve never felt so pathetic and embarrassed in my life, just looking at that “delivered 2D” thing on ur name. How I watched your name go from “jake” to “Jake❤️” to “jaeyun” to “j” to your original name on snap that you have on default. “⚽️”.

I love you so much that even my mother loves you. Whenever you weren’t texting me (practically the entire December), my mother would ask me about you a lot, I knew she loved you so much and I didn’t want you to have a bad look to my mother so I’d lie to her for you and tell her that you just texted me that you couldn’t text and whenever she’d ask me again, I’d tell her that you were saying the truth and u haven’t went online ever since, even though I knew that you were online half of the time.

I’ve tried seeing you all the time at school just to look at you and act if we are still texting, even if it meant crying a bit in class while thinking about you because I was left without explanation and you always look so happy, despite my absence in your life.

I keep lying to myself and saying that you mean the words you say to me but I know you don’t try to see me in every person you come across the same way I do, you don’t think of me the second you wake up at night the way I do, you would never look for me In a room full of girls.

I wake up from dreams in the middle of the night and even if it was a nightmare my first thought would be you, even if most likely the nightmare would have something to do with you. When my phone is next to me and I wake up, the first thing I do is put my phone down and in my head I say “please say you texted” knowing that each time it’s never you. I go back to sleep and wait for a message knowing I’d never wake up again if it were the case. I say I wish you could communicate more so I could understand how much you love me but, do you not love me as much because you lack communication or do you lack communication because you don’t love me as much.?

I don’t really know how this happy birthday thing turned into a whole story about my love life with you and how miserable I’ve been ever since school started again. It’s 2:01am now and I just can’t seem to fall asleep when you’re on my mind. My head hurts thinking so much about you, my head goes dizzy and my eyes start to pump as if they have their own heartbeat, disgusting..

I love you so much I wish I could forget about you for my own well being.

7 snaps in the morning, none of them are you. So many boys on my phone yet you're still the only one I wish would text me. My head knows ur bad for me but my heart doesn’t wanna leave you, I’m scared of losing every opportunity of being able to be with you, but I guess I’m just wasting that time with my own well being.

3 days doesn't sound like a lot but when you’re always online and ignoring me on purpose, it sure is a long time. I wish I could leave you on delivery for that long. I tried to ignore you a few times but I couldn’t last more than 4 minutes. It hurts how much we are different in this relationship and how much love is we feel is unequal

I tried as much as I could to keep you as my number one best friend on snap. I told my entire best friend list that I couldn’t talk so that nobody would go up, and it still managed to get ruined. Lina spent her days spamming me and making me reply to stories she posts so that she could take the number one best friend list on my list, and it worked. I doubt I was still yours anyway.

It’s funny because it’s news years and 2 years ago, this was the day i met the online friend who left me.

The one I was attached with for 2 years and ruined my entire mental health throughout 6 and 7th grade. The one that YOU replaced. The one I talked about for hours with you on TikTok, the one I told you I would tell everything and ever since he left, you were the new person I started acting as if it was him.

That guy, that nasty guy I was best friends with, blocked me for fun and ghosted me just to see me suffer without him, and you’re just repeating all of it.

I know you’re never going to message me, yet I realize I keep checking my lock screen every 5 minutes, your Instagram status, your reposts, your snap score, everything. I keep myself on not disturb but keep checking to hope that maybe, just maybe, you would’ve decided to check my messages and reply.

If I knew that night was gonna be the last time we were gonna talk to each other, I would’ve listened to my gut and begged you to stay. I’ve repeated many things, this entire “paragraph”(more like a book lol.) is in scrabbles because I don’t know how to explain myself, I write so much each time and just keep feeling the same, no happiness.

I know I said if you don’t text before it hits 2024, I’d forget you and erase you from my life because I’m trying to change, but the truth is, I’m sure that even if you text me after, I’d reply the second I see your name. Although I might be still a little too confident thinking you’d text at all. I don’t want to leave you, even when I know it’s better for me. I want to text you “I wanna break up” so you could make some sense when you’re half swiping my message and quickly reply, but I’m scared that you wouldn’t question it and instead just say okay and leave for good.

I hate always being the one that gets attached in relationships, especially when the other isn’t.

I hate how when you came back after ghosting me for 2 weeks before ghosting me again this time, you were acting as if you were embarrassed and very guilty about what you did, you made me feel bad for you. While I was the one suffering and crying every chance I got, I was the one comforting you. “You don’t need to say sorry, I knew you wouldn’t do this without a reason, I know you wouldn’t mean it.

Even before you came back and said sorry, I had forgiven you. I just want you to focus on yourself but please, communicate with me next time, I’ll understand you.” Those were the words I told you. Why can’t anyone comfort me the same way I comfort people? Why were those the words I wanted to hear? Why are you, the one who makes me smile and who makes me wanna die as well, why are you the only reason I wanna keep living? Why do I see my life only as Important because I know if I died I wouldn’t be able to text you anymore?

I see you use Snapchat by your snap score going up, gosh it feels so pathetic to know I’m still on delivered. Stop doing this to me please I beg you it hurts too much I can’t handle any of it anymore. My eyes are constantly stinging and it hurts so much, I don’t deserve this, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy, with me, not at the look of me going crazy over you not texting me. I’ve been crying for hours and usually I’d run out of tears to cry, why is it that I keep gaining more this time?

Oh please, come back to me, I bear seeing anyone else with you. Our stupid conversations about getting married and lasting forever with eachother, why have you forgotten all of it?

I would’ve never thought i'd feel this way, i thought I loved my life and the only stress I had was school, why am I on winter break and going absolutely insane in the bathroom and in my room over a person like you.

I would’ve never thought id ever wanna die, why do I feel like it’s my only option to peace right now? Suicidal? No way! But I seriously can’t escape from the thought of you, I need you out of my life, but that would be worse, I just wish I never met you, that’s also a lie. I wish you never changed, I miss the times you would care about how I felt.

This month, December, is my worst year. I needed you most at this time, why did you make it harder for me, purposely? Remember when you got mad at me for playing with ___? Haha I was so sad you were ignoring me again and you admitted you didn’t wanna talk, I loved how overprotective you were acting, but why were you jealous about him when he treats me better than you? Why do I love you more than someone who treats me so much better?.

Wow, when I finished writing that, you checked my message. Dec 31 7:14. Opened. Let me guess, you’re gonna start apologizing “MY BAD MY MAD IM SO SORRY I GOT IN TROUBLE.”

And would you look at that, I wrote in my notes app:

Yup, just as a I thought, Jake: MB MY PARENTS TOOK MY PHONE. I sent this to him, all he had to say was he needed time alone and said “see u” when I said “byeee” what the hell. If I killed myself it wouldn’t be enough for this man..??? He doesn’t text me properly for almost a month and he needs TIME ALONE??? Ugh! Happy new years! I told him happy new years on 12 exactly and all he said was “thanks u to” and I said I was gonna become nicer and he said “cool” so I’m going to be straight up with him and ask if we are breaking up. I don’t wanna wait anymore t’il HE'S READY. All he said was no. Wth — His last words were; I love you so much, I'm sorry, I'll message you when i get the chance.

It’s safe to say, I really was going insane. He never texted me again in 8th grade after that—until, the summer before 9th grade. I remember how he asked if we could talk when I have time, he was in France by now by the way. I told him that I was surprised that I’m hearing him again, and said sure. All he had to say was, “I’m sorry for everything I did, I’m sorry for ghosting you and all, I was really going through it” I beg your pardon?

That’s all he wanted to talk about? Quickly, I respond with:

- you: No, Jake. I want to know what happend , why did you do that?

- Jake: I promise you, It was personal problems y/n

He was so stubborn, I know it wasn’t the reason, we would go through things but we’d go through them together—not the way he did it. But, i always saw the good in him, even in that moment, i wasn’t angry at him. When I was with him, he was amazing—so I always wanted to keep that image of him and not swifch up so quickly just because he ghosted me for practically a year now. But still, i had to do what I had to do so—I asked him the big question:

- You: you know, we never properly broke up, so, what is it? Do u still like me? You haven’t talked to me in forever, you’re supposed to answer this.

- Jake: you first

Not this again.

- you: Jake no. You’re the one who left so you’re the one who answers it.

- Jake: no no just please you first

- You: Jake. What do you want from me? opened.

There he goes again, that was for real the last message. I never heard from him again-

“next stop, _____ university” —

There’s the train—perfect timing.

Today’s a weird day—maybe because it’s snowing, maybe because its the month he first started acting weird. Usually, you think of him before bed, not during the entire morning… You miss him, it’s been a while—You still wonder where he is now.

Sometimes, you wonder if you should drop out of university and become a famous model—maybe then he could recognise you and reach out.

You can barely remember his voice, you lost all my old videos from before you even started texting—those were the times you actually heard him speak, the rest was small talk and then completely no contact. Even when you guys were dating, you never spoke in real life—too scared and nervous.

You're finaly off the train—heading to class now, exams are coming up. You never got to experience it with Jake since he left to go to high-school in France, did I mention that already? You say to yourself. Actually, he had never removed his name from your school so when you had attendance on the first day of nineth grade, he was called in every single one of your classes. What a coincidence, you had never gotten in the same class for two years but then could’ve got all your first semester classes with him if he hadn’t left—what a way to play with your reason to live.

University isn’t like highschool anymore—it’s quieter, people are more focused on themselves than things that people have to say about eachother. You have a small group of friends that you met In highschool, you're glad you're still in touch despite how many years it’s been.

9:09am—huh??? Your class starts in a minute, shoot!

You dont know why you rushed to get to class so quickly… it’s too boring, You're bout to fall asleep. As you were about to lay your head on the desk and doze off—you heard your professor mutter something a little interesting for once.

“Okay students, this doesn’t have to do with our major but the board entered my name to do a small project out of context. Today, and for the following month, there will be 15 people from this class and the class that starts in 2 hours who will travel abroad—more specifically to France-“

That’s all you needed to hear—you didn’t care about the rest, you heard France and knew that you were going to be participating in this activity. It’ll be fun, you say, i'll get to experience how Jake lived in France, you say. You say it all, with no intentions of actually meeting Jake. You just wanted to experience what he experienced, maybe it'd make you feel a little closer to him. Like always, you made everything in your life, about him. It’s like he was famous in your mind.

You needed a break from your current place anyway, everything was all over the place, you felt as if you’ve been living the same days over and over again. Maybe this was an opportunity to change things a bit—get you out of your comfort zone.

You signed up so quickly to the program my teacher talked about a few days ago. You already found a roommate to stay with for the time you'll be staying there.

The guy you arranged to live with was a little bit younger than you, but you didn’t mind—you just needed a place to stay for a bit. You soon learned that he goes to the same university that you’ll be studying in, which is nice—you’ll have someone to help you around everything.

You’re counting the days until you leave—you called with the roommate and found out a few extra things about him. His name was ni-ki, he was also a foreigner except he’s permanently staying there. He’s in the same major as you and as you exchanged schedules, you saw that you guys had 2/4 classes together—that’s nice, already got a buddy to be with for half of your classes!

You're now in France, heading to your apartment—ready to meet Ni-ki. Right before you can manage to knock, he opens the door—as if he was waiting for you by the door. "Hey," he speaks, his voice low and deep. He was tall and slim—it reminded you of Jake. You don't know how he looks like anymore, you haven't in a while. The last time you saw him, he was tall, above all the boys in your grade, you don't know anything about him anymore actually.

Before you could continue being lost in thought, Ni-ki speaks up once again. "How about you go get some rest, you look tired. You can tell me about your trip in the morning. Sounds good?" You nod, you were exhausted, the trip was long and you could barely close your eyes in the plane.

'Oh and, y/n, by the way, i'll invite some friends over for a bit, if that's alright with you?' 'yeah that's fine don't worry, I bet you i'll be so deep in sleep that I wouldn't even wake up if you guys bomb the place.' What a lie. You couldn't fall asleep at all.

right as you thought you were going to fall asleep, you heard the door burst open, the people Ni-ki invited finally arrived. You could hear like—five people? Oh wait—no—a sixth one—who.. Sounded a lot like—Jake.

You couldn't remember his voice but when you heard something like him—you just knew. What a great discovery, even if you were going to finally get some sleep—you definitely aren't now. You sat in the bed you were assigned to sleep in, listening to the boys downstairs chatting—the guy who sounded like Jake wasn't really talkative, maybe its not him—actually, you're sure its not him—you're just eavesdropping so that you could pretending that you're listening to Jake's voice.

In the morning, Ni-ki had to wake you up for your class because you were still used to your old timezone. 'y/n... we have class in like 30 minutes...' 'Five more minutes... Get off of me, let me sleep!' 'I'll rip up all your clothes if you don't get up.' 'What? What! Okay, okay I'm up!'

You both ran to class, your apartment wasn't on campus but it was still close. You were introduced to the first two classes with Ni-ki by your side, you followed him everywhere for those first two periods—but now, you two next are alone—and you have no idea where to go.

Luckily, you spotted one of your teachers from your morning classes, they had to go fill out some papers and correct tests so they couldn't give you a tour of the school—but guided you to Ni-ki's class so that he could be excused out of his class and help you.

You walked into his class behind your teacher, not bothering to look at anyone to try and find him—too scared you'll make awkward eye contact with anyone who isn't him.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your lesson, Chanelle, but could we please steal your student Nishimura Riki for a period? We have a new foreign student who knows him and needs a tour of campus." Your teacher said to the one who was currently teaching Ni-ki's class. "Oh why of course, and don't apologise, i needed this few second break..." She responded. "Nishimura, get down here"

As she called him over, you follower her eyes—trying to spot Ni-ki. Then, you found him, laying back on a chair with his feet on the table, surrounded by 6 boys—probably the ones from yesterday.

'Hey ni-ki, whos that girl next to the teacher? You know her?' The purple haired boy asked. Just as you were going to smile and wave at him, your eyes spotted one of the boys who stood out a bit brighter than the rest—due to his immersive stare at you. Jake. There he was. Yes you haven't seen him in a while, but those eyes never change. it really was him—right infront of you. It was Jake.

You didn't utter a single word—turning quickly and just waiting for ni-ki to get down. You always imagined what you'd do when you saw him again—you just didn't expect it ever to be like this.

In the afternoon, after both you and ni-ki got back to your apartment. You built up the courage to ask him, 'Hey, ni-ki, who were those boys you were with when I came into your class searching for you?' 'Oh them, those are my best friends. Heeseung, the purple haired one you heard, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Jake. We've been friends ever since i got here, but they've been childhood friends since they were little—except Jake, he came during highschool, but that's still a while ago! Y/n? Are you listening-' 'Yes! Yes! I am indeed!' 'Oh okay, well yeah. Actually, they're coming over again—i'll properly introduce you to them then!'

Excuse you? Coming over? Again? How many times do these boys come over? They just visited yesterday... "Again?" you spoke, voice a little lower than you hoped it'd be. "Yeah, they come over all the time, you'll love them, trust me!" He said, love filled in his eyes as he spoke about his friends—completely unaware of what you were currently thinking.

Minutes passed and suddenly, the doorbell rang. You instinctively froze, Ni-ki jogged to go get the door, leaving you in the living room alone, awkwardly waiting. "Guys, this is the girl from earlier, this is y/n, shes my roommate" One by one, they entered the room, you got up and kindly greeted all five of them—until it was turn for the sixth one who took a little longer to remove his coat after hearing ni-ki's words.

When it was Jake's turn, your heart sank, you looked at him from close up—he was different. His face had matured, his hair had thickened, He body looked a lot fuller and grown up than you last remember. A lot changed—but it was still so easy to tell it was him. Perfect nose, flawless face, the same eyes you fell in love with.

"Y/n?" Jake spoke, in a questioning tone, way lower than how he used to speak. You were surprised that he even said something, if you two were in 8th grade, he wouldn't even be able to look your way, head down as he walks past you to make it seem like he didn't see you—while you would stare at the lockers, the opposite direction of him. "Long time no see" was all you said, though your mind was saying alot more.

"You two know each other?" Jungwon asked as you both nodded. "What a small world!" Sunoo added.

The rest of the night was awkward, both you and Jake sneaking glances of each other, trying to admire everything that changed. We haven't seen each other in 10 years, It's normal. For a split second, you both had eye contact—his eyebrows lower than usual, his eyes in a weird shape, like if it was an apology.

He used to be so active, so energetic—but tonight, he was even quieter than when I heard him yesterday from upstairs.

Sunghoon and Heeseung requested to watch a movie. You tried distracting yourself by helping Jay pick out snacks from the pantry, but his gaze was burning you, you could feel it no matter what you do. All of a sudden, ni-ki requested Jake to go grab some drinks. As he walked past you to the fridge he whispered, "Y/n, can we talk?"

It was starting to get late, each member leaving, keeping you and Jake alone. You didn't want to talk in the apartment with ni-ki so you both requested going outside the apartment, take a little walk as you talk.

It reminded you of when you went on that field trip, walking downtown with lights everywhere, as if you were in a movie, as if the world was only you and him, nothing else mattered. After minutes of silence, he broke it, Jake finally spoke.

- I didnt expect to you again. He said

- I didnt either.

- I wanted to apologise for everything, I know i said that the last time we spoke, but i really mean it this time. I know that whatever the reason was, I should've never acted that way.

- But Jake, how many times have we been through this before? Its been 10 years and yet you still say the same thing. I don't even know why I'm still here, listening to you say all of this, even after all the time that passed.

- I know I was always wrong, i know. My parents forced me okay? They didn't think I'd be able to focus on my education if I kept talking to you. My graders were dropping and they thought it was because of you when really it was because i was fooling around with my friends. I know you asked me if it was because of my parents and I said no but I was just so scared I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to disrespect my parents either and tell you that they were telling me to leave you.

As you were trying to find the words to respond to him, he continued.

- I know i was a jerk, and i dont expect you to forgive me so easily especially that im saying all of this so late, I didnt know if you would want to ever see my face again anyway. I needed to say this all because i cant keep it in anymore.

At this point, he’s sobbing, unable to even walk anymore—he just sat there, on the side of the road. His hands covering his face and trying to wipe his tears as fast as he face—now, avoiding your gaze at all times.

You’ve never seen him like this, he never cried, never spoke about his feelings, he never thought he should because he wanted to look strong all the time. “okay Jake, I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago, just please, get up Jake. Let’s go to your place, I can’t leave you like this, please.” You pleaded, feeling sorry for him. You knew he had a kind heart deep down despite everything, your heart ached at the scene in front of you.

You got to his place, helped him wash his face, his face flushed, embarrassed that he did all that after seeing you just once aft all those years. Everything was weird, despite the entire scene, everything was still unspoken, leaving plenty of things to discuss about.

As you sat him down on his couch, he said, "Y/n. I promise you for real this time, i'll tell you everything, I'll explain everything right now, I want to fix things even if it takes another 10 years to cure it all."

"Okay." you said, everything felt like the day you two confessed, explaining the unexplained, answering the questions you both were wondering about each other's actions back there.

Maybe it was going to take a while to get everything adjusted again, but you didn't mind, its not like you waited 10 years already, you know how to wait. None of that mattered right now, you were just relieved that finally—you have answers.

Maybe, it was worth it—having you famous in my mind.

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