#i really like this dynamic so much it makes me intensely happy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haetrack · 10 months ago

Text

spur of the moment (ldh) | pt. 2

please read part 1 before reading to better understand the story!

haechan x afab!reader

wc: 10k (...)

warnings: MDNI, fluff and (mostly) smut, dirty thoughts, inexperienced!haechan, a first hangout, reader finds fleshlight, handjob, handjob with a fleshlight, mention of a dildo, ruined orgasm, slight nipple play, dirty talk, they are both very shameless and perverts, fingering, unprotected sex (NOOO!!!), no clear dynamics but they both talk so much, they like it a lot

a/n: happy new years everyone! first fic of the year will be part two! thank u all so much for the support on the first part! i enjoyed writing this and i hope u guys like it as much as i do… please let me know what u guys think!!

the next day, haechan debates on whether or not he wants to go to class.

it doesn’t help that you came out in his dream, squirming under him and asking to be filled up by his cock. it’s nothing he hasn’t experienced (he’s not a pervert, he swears), but after last night, it all feels new to him. the thought of being so close to you and not being able to do anything about it makes him feel a little crazy. then again, he can always just ask you to hang out.

it’s really not that easy, he thinks. you’re kinda way out of his league and he wonders if you even remember his name. you seem to talk to a select few in your shared class, which makes haechan wonder why you chose to talk to him that specific morning. it wasn’t serious or anything, but he wishes he would have seemed a little cooler. curse his only-shy-on-first-meetings self.

today is slightly different though, when he enters the classroom five minutes before, he doesn’t see you in your normal spot, laptop out and your journal filled with handwritten notes in front of you. he scans the room to realize that you’re not even there. he feels relieved yet disappointed as he takes his seat. he swears that he had enough confidence to talk to you today, but it turns out he won’t be able to live it out.

once he settles with that thought, a minute before the class starts, the door slams open and you rush in. realizing that your seat has been taken by someone else, you look for any empty seats. there’s only one close to the front.

while haechan lazily scrolls through his phone, he realizes someone is rushing down his row, stopping right at the empty seat next to him. he looks up to see you smiling down at him, “can i sit here, haechan?”

his whole body goes rigid, mouth slightly open as he stares at you for a moment too long. you look away at his intense eye contact, to which he notices and quickly motions for you to sit down. you thank him quietly, moving fast to get yourself set up. while you’re setting up, you accidentally bump your arm against his, causing his breath to hitch. you take it as slight annoyance, “sorry haechan!” you send an easy smile towards him, but that only reminds him of last night.

he can’t focus throughout the lecture. you’re sitting right next to him, minding your business, all while dirty thoughts of you and him replay in his mind. he wonders if you would reach over and whisper in his ear, begging to let you touch him during class. the back of his neck feels hot, and he tries to stop the blush that threatens to form on his cheeks. he would rather die than get horny in class.

he takes a few deep breaths, trying to focus on his professor droning on about utilitarianism. he takes a peek over at you scribbling down notes. you have a slight frown on your face coming from how hard you’re focusing on writing down notes. your focus breaks when you feel a pair of eyes on you, and you turn to look at haechan. he immediately turns to typing his notes on his laptop, and you can see how his skin has turned a pretty shade of pink on his cheeks.

you’ve had your eyes on him since you asked him how his morning was. you found it cute how he stuttered when you asked, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with you. later that night, you tried to search him on instagram, and lo and behold, there he was, a private account with 90 followers to his name. you decided to hold off from talking to him, seeing if he would ever make a move on you.

now that you can visibly see how nervous he is just by you sitting next to him, you know you have to do something about it. you can’t wait until class ends.

when class ends, haechan tries to see how fast he can make his escape. completely ignoring how he stood in front of his mirror this morning planning what he wanted to say to you, he wonders if he could just slip past you. he shoves his laptop into his backpack and tries to beeline out the door as soon as his professor ends class.

before he can make it out though, a hand grabs his arm, and he turns to look down at you. a sickly sweet smile adorned on your face as you ask, “what are you going to do after class, haechan?”

it’s as if you could see right through him, his actions from last night plastered on his face as he answers you, “um, i was probably going to go back to my apartment to look over today's notes…” a complete lie, he was going to go back to his apartment to think about his utter failure today. maybe even get off to the thought of you again, how nice it felt to have you so close, how you basically touched him today, how sweet your smile was.

“that’s perfect actually! i wanted to ask if you wanted to go over the lecture together. you seemed a little distracted today,” you let out a small laugh, seeing how different his demeanor was while you were next to him. he wanted to look cool in front of you, but instead you saw how shy he was. he was so loud with his friends, but with new people, especially with someone like you, he couldn’t help being like this.

“yeah, that’s- i can do that with you,” he’s not really looking at you, and when he gets up, he tries not to invade your personal space. you remove your hand from him and he wishes he could grab it back. he wishes he could intertwine his hand with yours and show everyone that you’re his. but for now, he follows you out of class like a lost puppy.

“i would invite you over to my place,” he stops in his tracks and you look back at him, “but i have a roommate there right now.” he feels a little disappointed. he would’ve liked to see your room, be surrounded by your smell, to have you so close to him. then again, he’s not sure if he’d be able to hold back. as soon as you’d come close to him in your private space, he’d probably get hard on the spot.

he rushes to at least hold open the door for you, and you cock your head to the side and ask, “what about you? would it be okay to go to your place?”

you’re both standing there in the hallway of your class’s building. he thinks about it, he really tries to think of it. theres pros and cons to you being in his apartment. pros: you’d be there, and in the comfort of his own space, he’d feel a bit more confident. cons: you’d be there, he’s not sure how he’d feel about you being in the area where he just fucked a fleshlight thinking of you.

he messes with his fingers and bites the inside of his cheek, thinking about what he should do. he lets out a small breath and quietly says, “you can come over. i live by myself, so we can study there.”

you grin at his words, happy that you were able to persuade him. you’ve seen him talk to his friends, always leading the conversation, always making them laugh. so to see him rendered like this makes you wonder what he’s hiding. you can tell he likes you, but there’s something under his embarrassment, something he would never tell anyone. you'll find out today one way or another.

“did you come walking here? because i did,” you ask.

“no, i get here by car…” his sentence trails off and you give him a questioning look. his mouth opens and closes before he says, “would you like me to drive you?”

you laugh at him, your shoulder bumping into him, making him flinch a little. “i would love that.”

a shy smile appears on his face and you can’t help but smile back at him. he leads you to his car while you try to make small talk with him. you ask how the class has been for him, ask if living alone is nice, ask about his hobbies. he answers in short sentences, frustrated with himself for not being able to match your energy. he knows he can carry conversation, his own friends telling him he needs to learn how to shut up, but he just can’t do it now. he’s too concerned with his own thoughts.

he wonders if people are looking at the two of you heading to the parking lot. he wonders if you both look like a couple, talking like you both have known each other for a long time. haechan knows he wouldn’t normally be seen with someone like you, someone who seems too good for him. if he would tell his friends who he’s with right now, he’s sure that they’d call him a liar.

none of that really matters though, not when you’re walking side by side with him, your comforting personality putting him at ease. he’s sure that as long as he gets more chances to talk to you, he’d be able to comfortably talk to you. he feels good with you here, but it’s hard to ignore the little twinge of guilt at the back of his head. he tries to pretend he wasn’t furiously masturbating to the thought of you the night before, but it’s hard to ignore.

he unlocks his car and invites you in, and you happily call shotgun even if no one else is around. even though he’s nervous, he tries to start the conversation first, “you can put on music if you want, it’s not too far of a drive anyways.”

“i think i’m good, i’d rather talk to you more than anything,” you say with a sly smile. he feels a small blush form on his face. he can tell you notice it too when you chuckle at him, he covers his face with his hands. while you’re laughing at him, you put your hand down on his thigh. he immediately sits straight up, probably- no, definitely, red all over. he starts the car as fast as he can to try to stop thinking about how warm your hand was on his thigh.

it’s only twenty minutes, he thinks, twenty minutes of being trapped in a small space with you. you just touched him, and now it feels hard for him to breathe in his own car. the thought of fucking you in the backseat of his car creeps into his mind, and he feels relieved that you can’t secretly read his mind. you would both rush to the back, your hot touch all over as you fervently grind down onto him.

he can feel his dick begin stirring in his sweats, and he remembers you are quite literally sitting right there next to him. he’s scared to look at you, scared you’ve found out that he’s kind of a freak when it comes to you. but when he looks, he’s greeted by the simple sight of you staring out the window, your cheek resting on your hand. it puts him at ease, makes him want to reach over to your other hand and hold onto it.

he realizes he likes seeing this version of you. you look so calm, free from the stress of lecture, relaxed by the view of the pretty scenery around you. he smiles at you, admiring you from afar, despite the close distance you two share. he lets go of the breath he was holding, wills his away semi-hardon, and clears his throat. “can i ask why you wanted to talk to me today?”

“i’m not really sure either,” you answer honestly, “i’ve talked to a few people in class but none of them interest me as much as you do.” haechan isn't really sure what you mean yet, so he waits for you to continue. before you do though, you move out of the position you’ve been in, arms stretching in front of you. what seems so innocent deems quite differently for haechan. he sees how your boobs are pushed together, a small moan slipping out of your lips. he has to look away for a moment.

“i think it has to do with the fact that i know how much you stare at me.” you answer, shifting your body to face him.

he immediately spills out apologies, “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! you just happen to sit in front of me so- i didn't-”

it’s your turn to apologize, “no! i didn’t say i didn’t like it,” his head whips to look at you for a moment, “it’s just, you never came up to me, never said hi, just stared.” he feels his face heat up, realizing he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was. all the time he spent daydreaming about you in class never went unnoticed, he simply was too lost in his fantasies to realize you were staring right back. “i always wondered what you were thinking, for a second i even thought you hated me.”

he shakes his head, one that feels like it’s saying that he could never hate you. “what’s your major?” he questions.

“psychology.” you smirk and he immediately nods, knowing fully well you can probably read him like an open book. you laugh hard at this, and haechan realizes how much he likes hearing you laugh, hearing how you’re laughing at his jokes. he realizes he’s getting in too deep when he doesn’t just have these sexual thoughts about you, but also thoughts of just being around you feel like they’re enough.

“we’re almost there, just a few more minutes,” haechan says, and he kind of wants you both to stay like this in the comfort of his car. he’s used to it now, talking to you in this small bubble. he feels a little less shy, a little more like the man he thought he was last night.

“that’s good,” a yawn cuts you off, “i was getting a little tired of being in here.”

“getting bored of me that fast?” he teases, happy with how he’s opening up.

you softly laugh, “no, it’s just that i fell asleep kinda late last night. kept thinking about this essay i don’t know how to start.”

he hums at that, “no, i get it. i was up late last night, too.” and as soon as he says it, he regrets it. there’s a small chance you might ask him what he was doing, but there’s also a big chance you might just agree and move on. he hopes, he prays that you could just talk about that essay-

“what were you up to so late?” you ask, no harm behind your words.

he feels hot at the back of his neck, his grip tightens on the wheel as he tries to come up with an answer. well, he knows what the answer is, fucking a fleshlight to the thought of you, but he can’t exactly say that. “well- there was- no, still is-” he takes a breath before speaking again, “there’s a special event for this game i play online. i was stuck at my desk all day,” he nervously laughs, trying to deflect his own thoughts.

you brush past his words, seemingly convinced, “you’ll have to teach me how to play sometime.”

he nods, smiling due to the image in his head. buying another gaming chair, seated right next to you as you clumsily press down on the keys on his keyboard. he’ll groan in frustration with you when you die, he’ll laugh when you absolutely miss a shot, he'll celebrate your first win. he’ll plant a messy kiss to your cheek as you thank him for teaching you. he’ll do it all.

he lets you know which is his apartment complex, “it’s not anything crazy, but it’s done what it needs to do.”

“i’m sure it’s fine, probably better than how my roommate leaves the apartment looking,” you joke, and he wonders if you’d say yes if he asked you to move in one day. of course, he knows this is literally the first day he's talked to you, but he can’t keep these feelings from floating around in his head.

he parks his car and you both head inside. it’s relatively silent, save for the small gasp you let out at how the inside looks nice. once you make it to the elevator, he presses the seventh floor button. he didn’t really think about it before, but he realizes how nice you smell. if you were already dating, he’d hold you in a backhug, pressing his nose to your neck, inhaling your scent as the elevator rolls up. but for now, all he can do is rock back and forth on his heels as he waits for the elevator doors to open, freeing his mind from your scent.

you both safely make it to his apartment and he fishes out his keys from his jacket pocket. he unlocks the door, holding it open for you as you thank him and step inside. he flicks on the light switch and you stand there, taking in his apartment.

it’s simple enough for a man in college. it reflects how you see him, and you can’t help the grin that forms on your face, “this is just like you, haechan.”

he’s a little nervous, hands slightly sweaty seeing you in his apartment, “good or bad?”

“good! it also smells nice in here.”

your comment surprises him a little. he doesn’t really use any candles or sprays, which sounds gross, but he also doesn’t leave his place messy. he doesn’t like artificial scents, too much for his nose and gives him small headaches. as far as he’s concerned, what you’re smelling is purely him. this realization makes his heart beat a little faster, the back of his neck becoming hot.

“thank you,” a genuine smile crosses his face, and you beam back at him, “you can put your stuff here, we can study here in the living room.”

you move to sit in front of the small coffee table next to his couch. you look nice in his place, like you’ve always been there. you unload your items, looking up to him and patting the spot right next to you. “i’m gonna go to my room really quick, i just need to check on something.”

you playfully tell him to hurry and he salutes you, trotting to his room. he quietly locks the door and assesses the state of his room. it’s not horribly messy, so he leaves it be. his conscious tells him to go to the restroom and freshen up a little. he looks at himself in the mirror, his face reflecting back at him. he remembers last night, in this exact spot, wishing you were there with him as he got off to you. except now, you’re here, and he feels a little guilty.

he moves to wash his hands and splatters some water in his face. he huffs, then messes with his hair, trying to make it look a little better for you. when he feels ready, he walks out of the restroom, and takes one last peek into his room. though he was begging for your touch last night, he’s content just with your presence here, happy that you decided on your own that you wanted to be here with him.

when haechan meets you back in his living room, it feels natural. he softly calls out your name and you turn around, a smile already plastered on your face. he smiles back, moving to the spot right next to you. it’s nerve wracking being so close to you, but for your sake, he pushes his nerves back as far as he can.

for the next hour, you both sit there talking about what was discussed during the lecture. it turns out he did in fact miss quite a lot of notes, having to sheepishly copy down the ones you’ve written. you lightly scold him for not paying attention, and he can’t help let his mind wander to how you might scold him during sex.

he also can’t help but just be a little distracted. nodding along to your words while his eyes trail down to your lips. how your thigh is pressed snugly against his. how your hands brush over his while you explain your notes to him. he’s not sure if you’re doing this on purpose, but his deprived mind can’t help but hope. haechan is enamored with you, he wishes he could kiss you right here, pull you onto his lap and just enjoy how close you are to him.

after a few more minutes, you stretch just as you did in the car, which makes haechan clear his throat. “fifteen minute break, haechan,” you remind him while fighting back a yawn.

“do you want anything to eat or drink? i just realized i never even offered you anything when you came in,” haechan frowns, causing you to giggle from your end. you stand up from your place and stretch your arms up, causing the bottom of your top to ride up, exposing your midriff. his breath gets caught in his throat as he just stares, all the way until your soft skin is hidden once more.

“i think i’m good for now,” the way you’re looking at him makes him feel like he was caught staring, “but maybe just the restroom?”

“yeah, um, it’s connected to my bedroom so i’ll just… show you the way.” his hands are getting sweaty again. he tries to hide how guilty he feels, and if you were to put your palm to his cheek, you would feel how warm he was.

he leads you to his bedroom while you trail behind him. you smile to yourself with how nice he’s being with all this, showing you how much he likes you. you’re about to see his room, something that could be considered private for a lot of people. you put your focus back to him, staring at how broad he looks from the back. if only he could turn around and see how badly you want him too.

he opens the door for you, and you gasp out in amazement, pulling a shy giggle out of haechan. you don’t miss how shaky his hand is when he reaches for the door handle, “the restroom is over here, i can wait back in the living room if you’d like.”

“no, it’s fine! wait for me out here so you can give me a room tour when i’m done,” you say before closing the door. as soon as it’s closed, he starts freaking out. he’s room looks fine, but it just… doesn’t feel fine? he’s so scared that there might be something out of place, even if he knows it looks fine. he calms himself down and moves to sit down on his gaming chair. while he waits for you, he practices what he wants to say while giving you a mini tour of his room.

once you come out, you spot him lounging on his chair. he looks so good when he’s in his natural state, different from the haechan you’re used to seeing in class. when he meets your eyes, he looks a little nervous, but puts on a more confident demeanor.

“are you ready for this?” he asks, and you nod excitedly at his words, “so there’s my bed, my gaming setup, closet, dresser, and tv. boom. done.”

you laugh hard at him, “there’s no way!”

he’s laughing alongside next you, body leaning into you without even knowing, “i did what you asked! it’s not my fault i’m a simple man with simple needs.”

“so like, no explanation or anything? just an ‘i live here’ kinda vibe?”

“exactly, this is pure vibes. nothing more and nothing less.” your body presses against his side while you’re laughing, and he just lets it happen. he’s glad that he’s beginning to be more comfortable around you. he lets you walk around a bit, let’s you hover over his desk, too scared to touch anything on it.

“show me the game you were talking about! i can’t believe you let me take away some of your precious gaming time by coming over.” you say, motioning for him to sit down on his chair again.

he obliges, sitting down on his chair and turns on his computer. “i’d only do that for special occasions, so… i had to do it this time, too.” he doesn’t look at you when he says it, but you can tell he’s embarrassed by his own words, his ears turning red.

once the game boots up, he lets you know about the basics of overwatch and its seasonal events. he swears that he’s good at the game and that you would end up a pro player if you let him teach you. even though he’s explaining all this to you, you don’t really get all the terms he’s saying. you’re just happy that he’s letting you in on his hobbies.

while he’s going through the tutorial for you, your attention turns back to his room. it feels like him, very simple decoration and a gray-scale color scheme fill his room. you can tell he spends most of his time at his desk, more decorated and colorful than any other part of his room. when you scan his room one last time, you spot a picture frame on his nightstand. you quietly slip away from his lecturing of the game.

haechan doesn’t realize it, but at some point, you moved away from him. it isn’t until he hears a loud woah! and a small thump, to which he turns around and spots you by his bed, holding onto the edge of it to hold your balance. he feels his heart thump in his chest, you being too close to his bed for comfort.

“you okay?” haechan asks, trying to hide how shaky his voice is.

“i’m good, just tripped on something trying to see what was on your nightstand.” and while you're crouched on the floor trying to calm yourself, you see what you tripped on. a corner of a box. you didn’t mean to intrude, but you subconsciously pull it out from under his bed. inside it contained something you never thought you would see. you stand back up, still looking down at the content of the box.

something doesn’t feel right to haechan. you’re staring down still, a shocked look all over your face. this doesn’t feel right at all. he haphazardly stands up, not sure if he should move towards you or not. “what’s wrong?”

“haechan…” you say his name, your voice coming out a lot quieter and breathier than you mean it to.

he takes a step forward before he sees you reach down, your back now towards him. he says your name quietly and your face turns towards him. “haechan… can i ask you what this is?”

you’re holding his fleshlight. his fleshlight. the fleshlight he quite literally used to cum with last night to the thought of you. he feels dizzy, suddenly unable to breathe. how did you even find that? he swears he hid it back under his bed last night. are you going to hate him? will you think he’s the most disgusting person on the planet?

his thoughts are silenced by your voice, “do you use it, haechan?” you fully face him now, your face devoid of any emotion.

“i don’t- i don’t know what…” he could cry, really. he’s shaking, too scared to form a proper sentence. this feels like the ultimate karma, the person of his desire finding out his secret. you don’t even know what he’s done to it, you don’t know he fucked it with the thought of you in his mind. you creep closer to him, until he falls back into his chair to move away from you.

you move to stand in front of him, looking down at how he cowers under you. “did it feel good, haechan?”

“w-what?” his voice is light, breath too heavy.

“did it feel good fucking it, haechan?” you slowly lower yourself onto his thighs, and he goes rigid under you. he’s not sure how to feel right now, he’s scared but you’re sitting on top of him, waiting patiently for his answer. you know you won’t get it like this though, not when he’s frozen with you on top of him.

“tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop,” your eyes scan his face for any hesitation, and he stares back at you with a dazed look in his eyes. before you know it, he lurches forward and closes the space between you with a kiss. he tries to deepen it, but before any of this can escalate, you say, “not like this, tell me with your words how much you want this.”

“want this,” he tries to lean forward again but you stop him, “want this so bad- want you so bad.”

you smile, “good answer.”

you lean forward to kiss him, and he feels how close you are to sitting on top of his bulge. he realizes that this is very real, and instead of just fantasizing about it, he can pull you closer, let your warmth sit right on top of his dick as he kisses you. he uses this opportunity to deepen it. he tilts his head a bit more, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth. it’s a bit messy, but you can’t help but like that about haechan.

you’re quick to let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth, his shy demeanor taken over by his desperation. all while this is happening, he begins to move your hips for you, rocking you slowly back and forth onto his dick. a small groan leaves his mouth for the first time today, and you smile sweetly into the kiss. your hands also begin to move, one moving to the side of his neck and the other moving up to his hair.

you can tell he’s running out of breath pretty fast, and when you feel him move away to breathe, you tug lightly onto his hair. what you get is a breathy whine and his hips rutting up into yours. you gasp in surprise, and haechan loves the sound too much to where he excitedly tries to kiss you again. he misses, kissing the corner of your mouth as you giggle at him. he’s not even embarrassed, whatever you enjoy, he’ll like too.

a few minutes pass like this and his hands are still around your hips. they squeeze and push you around, but he doesn’t move them from that spot. you take your hands to the tops of his and move them up so that they’re under your shirt. he pulls his mouth away from you to stare back at you, wordlessly asking if he can touch some more. you nod, and you move to pull off your shirt.

he stares. he’s not shy with it, either. his eyes are fixated on the curves of your body, your chest that's covered by the bra you’re wearing. you’re really everything he dreamt of and more, he thinks. he has no control of his body anymore, so when he moves to settle in the crook of your neck while his hands try to touch as much of you as possible, he doesn’t try to stop it.

he inhales your scent sharply, presses his nose down onto your neck in order to savor how good you smell. his hands continue moving before they stop underneath the cup of your bra. you whisper for him to take it off, his shaky hands moving to your back. he’s a little confused with how it works, never once having to take it off himself. he keeps trying though, and you think his persistence is cute.

your hands move to your back to help him out, unclasping your bra and letting it slowly slide off of you. haechan takes this in, drinking up the sight of your bare chest. his hands rest at your sides, his body turning against him at the sight of your skin. you laugh at him before pressing a kiss to the pulse point on his wrist, encouraging him to continue. he does, he lets all the pent up frustration from your boobs take over, placing his hands over them, groping lightly.

you arch your back into his touch, moaning out his name. he looks up at you, gauging your reaction when he rolls your nipples in his fingers. he feels you grind down hard onto him, hands moving up onto his biceps and nails digging in. it hurts him a little, but it blends into a light pleasure. you look a mess on top of him, moaning into his ear how good it feels. he’s panting lightly, you being almost too overwhelming for him to handle.

he realizes the dull pain from your nails on his biceps is gone, and his feels your cold fingertips trail under his shirt. his stomach twitches at the feeling, his movement on your chest halting for just a moment. he continues though, moaning out a, “keep touching me. like it so much.”

so you continue. your hands touch over the soft skin of his stomach, feeling the light hairs trailing down to his cock. you feel his pretty waist, having a small grip on it to help placate you. your hands move up to his chest, and you look up at him with puppy eyes, asking if you could slide it off. he nods quickly and removes his shirt for you, letting you have free access to do whatever you want.

you moan out softly at the sight of his pretty skin. he continues his ministrations on you, and you just stare at his body. you’re almost tempted to just fall completely on him, letting him do whatever he’d want with you. but you still have half a mind, and you look back to his chest. you run your nails along the expanse of the newly exposed skin, his muscles twitching under the feeling. your hands move back up, and the urge to hear him whimper is too high.

haechan thinks he’s on cloud 9 right now, happily rocking into you and touching your chest like he always imagined he would. it’s not until he feels a pinch to his nipples that he lets out a loud whimper followed by your name, hips roughly bucking up into you. you stare at him, getting the exact reaction that you wanted. his arms move to cover his face, and he lets out a weak more, please, much to your excitement.

your fingers move back to his nipples and he realizes how much he loves this. he’s never done this to himself, nor did it happen the one time he had sex. he lets you work on him, he can tell how much you’re enjoying his reactions. choked back moans and high-pitched whimpers fill the air, his hips mindlessly rutting up into you. he just lets you do whatever you want, and the thought of this fills you with excitement.

you can feel how hard he is under you. he humps slowly onto you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. it feels good, and if it weren’t for how concentrated you were on his chest, you would’ve already been begging for him to fuck you. the thing is, you can begin to feel him twitch under you. you can tell he’s close, moans of your name and him asking you to continue is all you can hear. you begin rolling your hips onto him again, adding more stimulation on more parts of his body.

his hands move over to grip your ass, grinding you quickly down on him. he’s moaning straight to your ear, incoherent sentences mumbled out, and as much as you want to cum like this, there’s something else you’d like to do. you let him get close to cumming, you let him dig his blunt nails into you, you let him whimper your name into your ear. right when he’s about to cum, you pull away from him completely.

“do you trust me?” you ask, pretty smile planted on your face.

haechan can barely hear you, his orgasm being ripped away from him. in one moment, he had your warm body all over him, and in another, it was all taken away. his ears are slightly ringing and his dick is twitch heavily in his sweats, his body aching to be with yours again.

you can tell he didn’t hear what you said, so you put your finger under his chin to make him look straight at you. you repeat your question and he agrees quickly, desperation clearly taken over. you sit on the corner of his bed, asking him to come and sit with you. when he does, laying on his back while sitting up on his elbows, you position yourself to where you’re laying between both of his legs. he looks down at you expectantly, eyes filled with lust and a twinge of love.

you smile sweetly, and you pull out what you were hiding behind your back. his fleshlight.

he groans, almost telling you to put it away in embarrassment. it’s cute that he’s rendered like this because of a toy. you shush him, calming his nerves. “i just wanna make you feel good,” your hand trails up his thigh, dangerously close to his hard cock, “you said you trust me, right?”

seeing you like this, like he’s seen in all his fantasizing and dreaming, he can’t say no to you. not when you’re looking at him so nicely, a soft pout formed on your lips. he wants to reach down and kiss you, but his curiosity wins. what are you going to do?

his question is answered when you rub your hand over his clothed dick, earning you a soft whimper. you know he’s worked up, no use in continuing teasing him when he’s probably on the verge of cumming. you ask if you can take his sweats off, and he immediately moves to take them off for you. he leaves his boxers on, and you can see how hard he is and how he strains against them. you can’t stop the smirk that forms on your face.

he’s breathing heavily and all you’ve done so far are some light touches. he can feel himself leaking when he takes off his sweats, and when he looks down, there’s an embarrassing wet patch of precum on the front of his boxers. he’s thankful you don’t comment on it, but what he doesn’t expect is for you to lean forward and lick at the patch. he moans out, your tongue pushing the fabric roughly against his tip.

your hand moves to grip his base all while you begin to suckle on his tip. the stimulation is too much, too suddenly, and he bucks his hips into your face. you smile up at him, your eyes seemingly calling him cute. as much as he wants to shove his cock in your mouth already, he lets you take your time, relishing in how long he’s wanted you like this. you can have him for as long as you want, he thinks, he has all the time in the world with you now.

you eventually pull off his boxers, but you move a bit away from him. he gives you a confused look, but your smile puts all his worries away. he’s given you all his trust, letting you do what you want freely. he only freaks out a little when you pull out his fleshlight, a small smile forming on your face when you say, “gonna ask you some questions, i’ll help you feel good if you answer me.”

he nods slowly, and you reach down and squeeze him one last time. before you start, you ask if there’s any lube and he quickly reaches into his nightstand’s drawer to hand it to you. you have to hide back your laugh at how desperate he is as you squeeze lube into the fleshlight. he looks nervous, but it all fades away when you slide the slick fleshlight over his cock.

his tip is at the entrance of the toy when you ask, “why do you have this?”

“d-didn’t buy it. my friend bought it for me on my birthday…”

“your friend must’ve known you were a pervert, hm?” you say as you push the toy slowly down on his length, eliciting a long groan out of him. letting him sit with the feeling.

you ask another question, “you use it, right?” and before he can deny the claim, you interrupt him, “do you think about me when you do?”

the blush on his face darkens and trails down to his neck. his eyes shut, too embarrassed to answer the question that’s already apparent. to his surprise, you begin to move the toy quickly onto him, catching him off guard. his hips stutter forward as his arm reaches to stop your movements. his body is contrasting his own mind, and all you can do is silently laugh.

“better question,” you say as you continue your attack on him, “have you had sex before?”

his eyes open to look back down at you, eyes pleading with you to save him from embarrassment. you just shake your head, slowing down your movements to a stop. whines fill the room as he tries to move on his own. you move to pin his hips down, stopping his movements. “answer my questions or i’ll leave so you can cum on your own again.”

a small moan leaves his mouth as he tilts his head back. he refocuses on you, mouth opening, but nothing comes out. you slowly twist the toy at the base of his cock, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. you can tell he’s fighting back from moving without you telling him to, so he tries to let go of all his embarrassment before he speaks again. “i’ve… only had sex once. in freshman year.”

with delight, you begin moving the fleshlight slowly on him again, encouraging him to continue. “i’ve… thought of you.”

he mumbles the last words, and even though you could hear what he said, you ask him to repeat himself clearly. “t-thought of you, fucked my fleshlight thinking of you.”

his words send shivers down your spine, and you resume the quick movements of the toy back onto his dick. he thanks you without question, and in return, you move to press small, wet kisses to the inside of his thighs. his hips fuck up into the toy as you continue your kisses, haechan feeling overwhelmed by your proximity. he’s been so good, so you decide to reward him with some of your own information.

“how would you feel knowing i fucked myself with a toy, too? imagining it was you fucking my tight pussy?” a choked out moan leaves his lips as he begins moving quickly against the toy. “wished you could’ve heard me moaning your name, wished it was you fucking me instead.”

at this point, you’re just holding the toy in place for him. squeezing it around his dick, his hips shoving into it, wishing it was you. he’s close to cumming, he can feel it, his dick throbbing, heart hammering in his chest. he’s about to start begging for you to let him cum, but before he can, you say, “guess that makes us both perverts, huh? i like you just as much as you like me.”

he cums on the spot. you quickly pull the toy off of him, the sight of his cum shooting all over his chest, whimpers of your name mixed with frustration fill the air. you just lay there, laughing at him while he tries to save his ruined orgasm. you pry his hands off of himself and he just shuts his eyes, trying to catch his breath. your tongue reaches out to clean the leftover cum on his tip, and he yelps at the sensation, so you move up to clean the cum off of his chest.

once you finish, you reach up to softly kiss him. it contrasts your previous movements, and he’s stuck thinking about how you said you like him. he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, scared that you didn’t really mean what you said. he lets you kiss him, hands at your waist, lips pressing softly together.

he pushes you onto your back, laying your head softly onto his pillow. he stares at you openly, clad in just your panties. his mouth runs dry, he never thought he’d get to see you like this in his room, looking only at him. his shaky hands reach forward, one resting at your waist while the other reaches for the top of your panties, waiting for you to say he can pull them down.

you let him, and he does. he really wishes he could shove them in his drawer, keeping it as a memory of this day, using them when thinking of you. he pushes them aside and looks down at you. your legs spread open for him to see. it’s your turn to feel a little shy, the guy who always stares at you in class now staring at your most intimate parts.

“show me how�� show me how to touch you…” haechan whispers out to you, and you bite back a smile.

“was fucking someone else not enough? fucking a fleshlight wasn’t enough either?” you retort, and haechan shakes his head in embarrassment, but you can feel his dick twitch against your thigh in interest at your words. you do what he asked, one hand slithering down to your aching pussy.

he watches closely as your fingers circle around the little nub, watching as your hips twitch a little at the stimulation. “it feels best when you rub me here,” a small moan escapes your lips and you feel him subconsciously rub his dick into your thigh.

when you feel yourself becoming sufficiently wet, you move your fingers to your entrance, teasing your twitching hole. “you’re gonna put your fingers in here, in and out of me. bet they’d feel so nice.”

he nods along dazedly, and you move to grab his fingers to replace yours. “go ahead, haechan.”

it’s so warm, so wet. he can’t believe he thought the fleshlight was good enough, not when you exist. when he pushes two fingers in, you slightly clench around his fingers and he has to hold back a moan. he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, and he looks down at you, your face scrunched in pleasure.

he scissors his fingers inside you like he does with his fleshlight. he’s not too inexperienced, learning a bit from porn and his fleshlight. it just feels so different, different than how his toy feels and how porn makes it out to be. fingering you feels better than the only time he’s had sex, all because it’s you. you’re under him, telling him how good his fingers feel, letting him do what he feels is right, like how it was always supposed to be.

he arches his fingers and sees your immediate reaction. you tell him to keep moving and he complies quickly. your moans are distracting him, and he realizes that he’s pathetically humping your thigh. he wouldn’t mind cumming again, not when it would be with you.

clearing him out of his hazy thoughts, you ask him for more, you need more. he knows what you need. like a habit from his fleshlight, his other hand reaches down, thumb beginning to circle at your clit. you let out a whimper of his name, and he rubs his thumb against you faster. you feel so good around his fingers, clenching harshly, while he ruts against you languidly.

you feel too close to cumming. that damn fleshlight, you think, gave him too much practice. you feel like jelly, mind almost numb from how good he’s doing. you moan out to tell him just how good he’s doing, and he whimpers at your praise. you can feel something wet against your thigh, and you look down to see him mindlessly humping you. you don’t want to cum like this, you need him to be inside you.

“s-stop! please, haechan,” you whine out, tapping at his wrist to get his attention.

he immediately removes himself from you, concern painted all over his face. “are you okay?” he’s a little breathless himself, “did i do something wrong?”

“n-nothing wrong, just wanna cum on your cock instead.”

at your words, he lurches forward to kiss you, slotting himself between your legs. he kisses you hard, excited at the prospect of being inside you. if his fingers in you felt that good, then he can’t imagine how it would feel for you to be wrapped around his pulsing cock.

he tries to ignore how he can feel his dick rubbing against your core, your slick making a mess between the both of you. when his tip hits your clit, you both moan out in unison. he’s getting impatient, but at the same time, he doesn’t want this to end. he doesn’t know if this will happen again, doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again after this.

“please, haechan. need you so bad. need to feel you in me, been waiting for so long.”

“y-yeah? made me wait for you, wanted you so bad. didn’t know you wanted me as much as i wanted you,” he says softly to you, and you realize he’s gotten more comfortable talking to you. when he’s not whimpering out to you, he’s able to talk back. you like seeing him like this, how he’d be with his friends, how he’d be with you.

“you’re acting like you made any big moves when all you did was stare at me and fuck a fake pussy,” you deadpan. he scoffs, but you can see the way his cheeks turn red again. when he twitches against you, you look up to gauge his reaction. you can tell he’s holding back, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed.

“condom?” he asks.

you shake your head softly, “wanna feel all of you.” you hear him let out a shaky exhale, your words flooding his brain.

you softly call his name, “are you ready?”

he nods, sitting back onto his knees, looking down at the sight of the both of you. when he doesn’t immediately move, you ask, “is there something wrong, haechan? we don’t need to do this if you don’t want to-”

“no!” shocked at how loud he was, he quickly apologizes. “it’s not that i don’t want to! it’s just… i don’t want to seem so desperate…”

you reach up to place your hand on his cheek, thumbing at the moles scattered across it. he nuzzles into your touch, placing a quick kiss to your thumb. you speak up, “you don’t realize how bad i want this. like i said, there are too many times i’ve cum thinking about you.”

you move to line him up at your entrance, haechan taken aback at your forwardness. he moves on top of you, holding up his body over yours. you nod at him, telling him that you’re ready. before he does, you reassure him, “so many times i’ve thought of you on top of me like this, now i finally get to see it.”

feeling slightly embarrassed at your words, he slowly pushes in. a loud whimper escapes him, body immediately falling apart at your warmth. his arms give out, his body falling onto yours. his head falls to the crook of your neck, and you can feel his warm breath hit your already hot skin. his hands move to grip onto your sides, and you feel like he might leave faint bruises. the real thing is so much better than what he wished for last night.

you’re no better though. your hands move to his back for support, nails digging harshly into his skin. your head pushes back into the pillow, mouth spilling out whines and whimpers. you can feel how deep he is in you, how he’s twitching inside of you. if you had known he was this good, you would’ve just talked to him first. “please m-move, haechan.”

he can hear you, but it doesn’t register in his head. you clench around him to gain his attention, to which you get a dazed look in response. “need you to move, please, wanna feel you.”

when he realizes what you want, he slowly pushes himself up, hesitantly swiveling his hips against you. he lets out a small whimper, but he knows you need this just as much as he needs you. he tries to set a pace, but you can tell he’s not properly in the right headspace to make calculated movements. he’s letting his body do what it wants, and you moan out at the sight of how desperate he looks.

he continues fucking you, hips thrusting and stuttering when he feels you clench around him. you want to hear him though, you need him to talk to you. “haechan-” a whimper cuts you off, “please tell me, tell me what you’re thinking…”

he does hear you this time, and he has to suck in a large breath. his hips continue, and he tries to make out proper sentences, but he knows it won’t come out right. “feels so good- better than i could’ve ever imagined-”

“better than your fleshlight?”

“s-so much better. can feel how you’re sucking me in, can feel how wet you are.” he’s babbling, you can only catch onto some of the words he’s saying. he’s stuck between wanting to look at where you two are connected and how your face contorts in pleasure. “please let me cum in you, thought of it so much.”

“yeah? thought of filling up my pussy with your cum?” he nods at your words, punctuated with short, better timed thrusts that hit that spot inside you, your nails dragging down his back. he moans out at the feeling, and you realize he just might like a little pain.

“couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you would f-feel around me, couldn’t help but think how i needed to show you how much i like you,” he’s moving faster now, turned on by how you’re affected by his thoughts, “always came so fast in my fleshlight at the thought.”

you’re whimpering out at his words, so sure that he’s pussy drunk that he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying. you take it all in though, relishing in how much he was really holding back when he was with you earlier.

“fucked my fleshlight just last night thinking about you,” you gasp out at this, and he feels how you clench around him, hips stuttering against you. “i didn’t even mean to, just needed you so bad.”

you pull him down to a kiss. it’s so messy, tongues meshing against each other while drool slips past both of your lips. your hands move to his hair, now wavy with how sweaty he’s gotten. you tug at it when you feel him hit that spot again. he pushes himself deep inside, hips stilling against you at the feeling, “gonna cum soon, need to cum soon, please-”

“make me cum, too. please, wanna cum with you so bad, haechan.”

he has to forcibly stop himself from cumming from hearing your voice. a shaky hand moves from your side down to your clit, thumb shakily pressing against you. you clench harshly, and he can’t stop the small thrust that presses him against you deeper. he wants to keep moving, but he knows if he thrusts a few more times, he’ll cum without a second thought. “so wet, don’ even need to do anything to help me move.”

you moan, your own hips moving up to fit more of him inside you. you don’t care how desperate you look, fully knowing haechan probably likes the look. he subconsciously moves against you, can’t fight against how good you feel. “close! ‘m so close, haechan! please, cum in me, baby!”

at the petname, haechan starts his movements again, roughly thrusting into you. he’s not thinking about it, hips slamming against yours, the only thought being cumming in your tight pussy. you feel the same, heat all over your body as you practically begin screaming for him.

“gonna give you everything. g-gonna show everyone that you're mine, how i’m yours. won’t let anyone take you away from me.” you whimper out, the knot in your stomach becoming untangled as you let your orgasm wash over you. you clench against him, walls repeatedly tightening around his cock. he can only continue so much before he cums too, warmth filling up your insides.

he’s collapsed on top of you again, hands making it to your boobs, gripping on for support. he tweaks your nipples, helping you ride out your orgasm while he fights through his. he’s so sure he’s pathetically whimpering and moaning out mixtures of your name and how good it feels, but he could care less. he’s focused on how tight you feel, how you’re milking his cock, neediness still apparent after you’ve cum.

when he slows down, he has to move away from you, your twitching pussy overstimulating him too much. what he’s more concerned about though is the aftermath. in a daze, he slowly pulls out of you. he feels the creaminess of his cum around his dick as he pulls out, watching how it slowly spills out of you. like something that looks so practiced, he moves his fingers to gather his cum, slowly pushing it inside of you as you softly moan out.

he feels the soft clench of your pussy, and his dick twitches in response. you hum, taking him out of his daze. he looks up at you, then back down at his fingers, realizing what he’s doing. “s-sorry. just… wanted to see… what would happen,” he mutters at the end, not really knowing what to say.

he tries not to feel awkward. he really tries. it dawns on him that you both really spoke for the first time today, and now he just finished having sex with you. it’s not that he regrets it, but he’s scared, scared that he might’ve just messed up a possible relationship with you. he scratches the back of his head, too preoccupied with his thoughts.

“aren’t you gonna lay back down with me?” you ask, a playful but tired smile on your face.

once he realizes what you said, it all dawns down on him. it doesn’t always have to be so complicated. sometimes, all he needs is a little direction. he sees you laying down on his bed, and it just feels so right. crawling in next to you in bed, covering you both under his sheets feels normal. shy smiles being exchanged to one another as you cuddle into him, it feels like you both have done this before.

it’s okay if it doesn’t feel so timely, he thinks. he has all the time in the world for you now to properly fall in love with you.

taglist: @vqlentinez @froggyforyoongi @snflwrhaerecs4u @jenodreamer @hanyujinshoe @haechankisser @liliansun @jadethevampress @emothugsworld

#haechan smut #haechan scenarios #haechan fic #haechan x reader #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #nct smut #nct scenarios

751 notes · View notes

moonxknightx · 2 months ago

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : FORBIDDEN INTENTIONS: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Old!Stepdad!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: i don’t even know what to call this genre tbh….

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Age Gap: Significant age difference between characters, Manipulation: Themes of manipulation and deception, Romantic Tension: Intense romantic and sexual tension, Mature Content: Contains mature themes and emotional intensity. Family Dynamics: Complex and potentially distressing family relationships.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You thought Logan, your mother’s husband, was a blessing for her in her later years. But after her passing, you discover he married her to get close to you. Now, as Logan’s relentless pursuit of you unfolds, you’re torn between feelings of betrayal and an unexpected, unsettling attraction.

Based on this request.

YOU DIDN’T HATE LOGAN. In fact, when your mother introduced him into your life five years ago, you were almost relieved. After all, it had been just the two of you for years, and seeing her with someone in her later years seemed like a blessing. She deserved to be happy, and Logan seemed to care for her.

At least, that’s what you thought.

You were in your early thirties, and your mom—well, she was getting older. Logan was retired from whatever military past he had. You knew he was more than just a regular guy, but she never really told you much about him beyond that. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you, something… intense.

“Good to see you, kid,” he said gruffly when you visited home that weekend from university.

“I'm not a kid, Logan,” you corrected him, smiling as you placed your bags down. “Master's degree, remember? I'm practically a professor by now."

He raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Yeah, sure. But you’ll always be the kid to me.” His voice was rough, like gravel under boots, and there was always an edge to it, something that made your skin prickle whenever he was around. Still, you brushed it off as just him being… well, Logan.

Your mother had taken ill shortly after you started your master's program, and you made the journey back home every few weeks to check in. Logan was always there, looming. He never gave you much space, but it was the way he looked at you that had started to make you uncomfortable.

One evening, after your mother had fallen asleep early, the two of you sat in the living room. The TV was on, but the noise was nothing but background to the silence hanging between you both.

“So, you still seeing that guy from your class?” Logan asked suddenly, his eyes not leaving the TV screen, though you knew he wasn’t really paying attention to it.

You blinked, surprised at the question. "What? How do you know about that?”

He shrugged, finally glancing over at you. “Your mom mentioned it.”

“Uh, no, actually,” you said, shifting a little in your seat. “It didn’t work out. We weren’t really… compatible.”

“Hmph,” Logan grunted, his lips quirking slightly. “Good.”

“Good?” You echoed, confused. “Why is that good?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze suddenly piercing as he looked at you. “Guy wasn’t right for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. There it was again, that intensity. His eyes seemed to bore into you, not in the way a father figure would watch over his stepdaughter. No, there was something else, something darker.

You swallowed hard. “Logan, what—what do you mean by that?”

“You’re smart, kid,” he said lowly, leaning back against the couch. “You can figure it out.”

“I—” The words caught in your throat, and you stood up abruptly. “I should check on Mom.”

Months passed, and your mother’s condition worsened. Logan had become a constant presence in your life, more than you ever wanted or expected. You started to notice how often he would drop by your apartment in the city. Always with an excuse—"Just passing through," or "Wanted to make sure you’re doing alright."

It was unnerving.

“Logan, you don’t have to come all this way just to check on me,” you told him one afternoon as you caught him lingering by your door again.

He leaned against the doorframe, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure, I do. Can’t have you out here all alone, can I?”

“I’m an adult,” you snapped. “I can handle myself.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes trailing over you in a way that made your stomach twist. “You can try. But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”

Your mother passed quietly in her sleep one cold winter evening. The grief was sharp, cutting through you like a knife, and while you were thankful she no longer had to suffer, the loss left a deep void in your heart. Logan was there at the funeral, of course, standing stoically beside you.

“She loved you,” you murmured through tears, staring down at the casket. “She really loved you, Logan.”

“She did,” he agreed, his voice low and steady.

You turned to him, something breaking inside of you. “What am I supposed to do now? She was everything.”

He stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “You got me.”

The words felt wrong. He wasn’t the comfort you needed, but he was all you had left.

Weeks passed after your mother's death, and Logan stayed around. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself, he was there. At your apartment, waiting when you returned from class, sitting at your usual café, casually slipping into your life in ways that you could no longer ignore.

One night, after a particularly long day of classes and work, you found him waiting in your kitchen.

“How the hell did you get in here?” you demanded, your heart racing as you dropped your keys onto the counter.

He shrugged. “Door was unlocked.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “I locked it. Logan, you can’t keep doing this.”

His expression darkened, and he stepped closer. Too close. “I’ve waited long enough, kid. Your mom’s gone. There’s nothing stopping us now.”

Your blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I stuck around for her? For all those years?”

You took a step back, your mind reeling. Logan's gaze was locked onto yours, the truth crashing into you like a tidal wave. Every warning sign, every lingering look, the possessive edge in his words—everything suddenly made sense, but it was too much. Your heart raced as the room seemed to close in on you.

“You didn’t—” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t stay for her?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t bother pretending anymore. Instead, he stepped forward, his presence filling the small space between you, suffocating. "She was a means to an end. I stayed for you."

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You wanted to scream, to push him away, but the raw intensity in his eyes pinned you in place

“Logan, this isn’t right,” you managed, your voice trembling. “She was my mother. You were her husband.”

His lips curled into a smirk, one that made your skin crawl. “Your mom knew what she was getting. But she’s gone now. You and I… we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

You shook your head, stepping back until your back hit the counter. "No, this is insane. There’s a huge age gap, Logan. You’re—you're like sixty, and I’m—"

“Thirty-two,” he interrupted, his voice deep and rumbling. “You’re an adult. Hell, you’re smarter and more capable than most people I’ve ever met. And you think I give a damn about age? I’m older than you know, sweetheart. I’ve seen and done things you can’t imagine.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. Everything about this felt wrong, but at the same time, Logan had always been a larger-than-life figure in your world. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled you in even when you didn’t want it to.

“This is twisted,” you whispered, trying to find your footing, to regain some control over the conversation. "I... I need time."

Logan’s expression softened—just a little. He stepped back, giving you space, but his eyes never left yours. "Take your time," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."

In the weeks that followed, you tried to distance yourself from him, to process what had happened, but Logan was relentless. He never pushed you physically, but he was always there, lurking at the edges of your life. His presence was inescapable, a constant reminder of the tension that simmered between you both.

You thought about moving cities, quitting your master’s program, anything to put more space between you, but you knew Logan would find a way to follow. He always did.

One night, as you sat in your apartment, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, there was a knock at the door. You didn’t have to guess who it was.

When you opened the door, Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. For once, there was no smirk, no cocky attitude. He looked... tired.

“What do you want, Logan?” you asked, your voice tight with frustration.

“I came to talk,” he said simply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You dropped a bomb on me, and you expect everything to be fine?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I never expected it to be easy. I knew what I was doing wasn’t… conventional.”

“Conventional?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Logan, you married my mother just to get close to me. Do you have any idea how messed up that is?”

“I didn’t plan it that way,” he said quietly, his voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “But once I met you, I couldn’t shake it. Your mom was lonely, and I knew I could take care of her, make her last years happy. But it was always about you. From the start.”

Your breath hitched at his confession. There was a part of you that wanted to scream at him, to tell him how wrong all of this was. But another part—one you didn’t want to admit existed—was drawn to him. You hated it, but it was there.

“Logan,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “this isn’t something I can just accept. You manipulated my mother. You’ve been manipulating me. How can you expect anything between us after that?”

He took a step closer, and this time, you didn’t move away. His eyes softened as he looked down at you, the weight of years behind them. “Because we’re the same, kid. You know it as much as I do. You’re not scared of me—you’re scared of how much you feel this too.”

You felt your pulse quicken, his words cutting through every wall you’d tried to build. "Logan…"

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’ve waited long enough. I’ll wait as long as you need. But don’t think I’m gonna give up on this. On us."

His touch was surprisingly tender, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. You hated how good it felt, how much you craved that connection, even if it came from him.

“Maybe…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “maybe I need more time.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

With that, Logan turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, heart racing, and mind reeling. You watched him go, knowing that this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want it to be.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @wolviesgirl @slowlikehoneyyy @boomveronika @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts @chronicallybubbly @lex-the-flex @evasmlp @whxtewolf

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!!🫶

Also do we need a part 2?

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #old man logan x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you

346 notes · View notes

sugarmuseum · 14 days ago

Text

THE TRAITOR | N. JM

pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

genre: smut, horror, frat!au, halloween!au

summary: When your small town starts their annual -and intense– Halloween celebrations, you think there might be a case of mass hysteria as a witch hunt slowly rises when you caught the attention of the Founders, the campus elite members and their leader, Na Jaemin.

content warnings: minor age difference (Jaemin is 2 years older), explicit sex scenes, explicit lenguaje, mentions and descriptions of death and murder, drug and alcohol use, mentions of past torture (not to any principal characters), physical violence, lots of blood. MDNI!

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, slapping, spanking, squirting, minor breeding kink, dirty talk and pet names so i don’t have to use y/n.

word count: 18.k+

Disclaimer: english is not my first language so if there’s any mistakes or misspelling i’m sorry! Happy halloween!

‘’I fucking love Halloween,’’ Lee Donghyuck almost screamed, winning a push from an annoyed Renjun behind him. He caught the attention of a group of sorority girls passing by, dressed as sexy witches, which looked at him giggling. ‘’I love this town.’’

‘’Here we go again,’’ Renjun sighed, knowing what’s about to come out of Hyuck's mouth— doing this same speech every year. But he decided to play along and entertained him while the rest of the group arrived. ’’What do you like?’’

‘’Everything! The spooky vibes, the parties! The girls in sexy costumes,’’ he listed with a smile, bating his eyelashes close to Renjun face, ’’especially the hot girls looking for a Founder to fuck.’’

Renjun groaned and pushed Hyuck again, rolling his eyes. ‘’Every time one of you call yourself that something dies inside me, I swear,'' he pinched the bridge of his nose, then went back to scanning the crowd for Jeno, Mark or even Ten, whoever might come to his rescue.

Hyuck looked at him porting a smug expressión. ‘’What about it? We are the Founders. And it’s not like you don’t enjoy the benefits, my lovely and cute Junnie.’’

‘’I didn't say that. I just implied you're annoying.’’

Before Renjun gives him the third push of the day, a figure joins them resting his hands on his shoulders from behind as a greeting. Jeno's head peeks between them and he frowns at Donghyuck.

''Are you already bothering Renjun this early,'' he asks and then turns at Renjun maintaining the same expression, ''and you shouldn't you be more patient as a future lawyer?''

''Jeno, are you on vice president duties already?'' A new voice jokes and everyone turns to Chenle, who appears making his way through the crowd. Used to the dynamics of his fraternity brothers, he is not surprised by the scene he encounters.

‘’Seems like it, yeah,’’ the handsome man says, ‘’since Jaemin is MIA.’’

Renjun frowns, pulling out his cell phone and checks the group chat, though there are no new messages. He hasn't seen Jaemin since this morning, actually. ''Where is everyone else? The opening of the haunted house is starting.''

''Mark is helping hang the last of the decorations in the backyard with Jisung,'' Jeno reminds them as the music drops a little and the sorority entrance lights up where Rosé, the president, takes the microphone. She's not alone, as her vice president is with her besides a bunch of other girls, dressed as witches. ‘’They’re putting in the last pumpkins and then they'll join us. I hope they hurry tho, I don't want to wait in line to get in.’’

''And where’s our leader?'' Chenle asks as he adjusts his black glasses, checking his cell phone too, reading several messages from girls asking to join them in the haunted house and ignoring it.

''Most likely stalking you-know-who,'' Renjun mutters with a sigh. He's not really listening to Rosé welcoming and talking about traditions, culture and witches, but his suspicions are confirmed when his gaze falls on you. ''Ah, yes, we definitely won't see him until later, much later.''

Donghyuck, Chenle and Jeno follow Renjun's line of sight, three more pairs of eyes landing on you, recognizing and examining you from afar in your cute witch outfit, hat and all. Even though the frat boys know you're banned by Jaemin's order, that doesn't mean they can't look at you, right? And tonight you look especially good, with your little black dress and those cute, innocent eyes looking especially bored too, making Renjun chuckle. You're so bad at pretending you want to be there.

''She looks so beautiful,'' Donghyuck laments, staring at your body as he has done so many other times and studying the way your striped stockings reach up to your thighs as an idea crosses his mind. ''Do you think Jaemin would share?''

Jeno snorts with a laugh. ''Fuck no,'' is quick to respond taking his eyes off of you for a second to raise an eyebrow in the direction of the major in Finance as he shakes his head. ''Definitely not with you, no.''

''You pulled the shortest stick out of all of us, Hyuck,'' Renjun comments with a satisfied smile watching his friend's face fall from his refusals and decides to give him a final stab. ‘’Maybe Jeno,'' he adds thoughtfully.

The named one neither denies nor affirms, maintaining a secret smile that makes Hyuck sulk more and mutter things like I'm gonna put my stick in your—

''Don't be like that just because Jaemin has a girlfriend and you don’t,'' Renjun scolds him, having fun at the expense of Lee Donghyuck's tantrum.

Chenle shrugs and while he had to admit you were gorgeous, there were more girls like that on campus at the disposal of any of them at all the parties they threw, eager to get not only an NCT brother but maybe a Founder. ''What's so special about her anyway?'' He asks aloud his thoughts.

He doesn't like you, actually. It’s not that you did something to him on purpose, he just doesn't click with you the few times you two shared a space, like going to the kitchen at a party and bumping into Chenle spilling his drink or the times he let you in at the frat and you stepped in his foot accidentally.

''You should ask Jaemin, he's been obsessed with her for months,'' Jeno replies, thinking about how many times his best friend had chased you around campus, parties and even sneaking into some of your classes since the first time he saw you. He knew his friend could be quite intense, so it didn't surprise him that he acted that way when something - or someone - got into his head.

‘’That’s what good pussy does to you,’’ Donghyuck offers simply, as if it were obvious.

''We don't really know her, she's an outsider,'' Chenle continues, looking at you through his dark glasses with a sense of distrust that has him frowning. ''I don't get it.''

Renjun and Jeno shared a look, knowing that Chenle was one of the firmest believers about the family traditions they shared and that if things were to get more serious - as it seemed - with a girl outside their circle he was going to be the talk of not only the campus, but the entire town. And their families.

Neither of them said more on the subject, but they had to admit that Chenle was right. The girl who had stolen Jaemin was a newcomer with no legacy or social presence in the town or university. And that would be a problem, sooner or later.

You sighed as you reluctantly put on your black pointy hat, joining Yuna and Jia, who were wearing witch outfits similar to yours. A small crowd was gathering in your sorority area for the opening of the annual Witch Haunted Hunt, their activities to participate in the town's Halloween schedule. This year they were going to have a haunted house and sisters like you had been decorating the days before.

''I can't believe I'm doing this,'' you mumbled so the president, Rosé, wouldn't hear, even if she was busy talking into the microphone. That girl had sensors all over her body to identify pledges and sisters complaining. ''I feel like a idiot.''

''Hey! You said you weren't going to complain anymore,'' Jia reminded you in a hushed whisper, giving you a little nudge to shut you up while she had her attention on Rosé. ''Sshhhhh!’’

You moved your body a little to avoid her elbow as you continued to speak between clenched teeth. ''That was before they made us witches. It's like being an Elf on Christmas, but instead some kid is going to see me on the street and egg me on, I just know it,'' you sighed, pressing your lips together.

''What?'' Yuna asked in confusion, side-eyeing you from your right side. ''What are you talking about?’’

''Well... we're in a town that hates witches and the kids have grown up with that propaganda. It's only a matter of time before some of them put together an army and decide to do justice and put it on TikTok,’’ you explained.

''Being a witch is quite an honor in our sorority! We are the protagonists,'' Jia muttered trying to keep her face composed and not laugh. ''It's an ancient tradition and should be respected. Shush, babe!''

‘’Shush the non-believer!’’ Yuna whispered into your ear, laughing and pinching your ass making you jump and yelp, turning and staring at her accusingly, frowning when another sister shushed the both of you.

The town where you lived was nationally known as a major site of recorded witch trials and killings over three hundred years ago. Generations and generations had spent growing up with that scar on the town's history and over time they began to use the town's folklore as a tourist attraction.

You didn't know how intense it was until you moved in as a teenager a few years ago with your mother, it was like the town turned upside down when October came around. The short time you had spent there you had heard everything from legends to scare children and rumors about ghosts lurking from the witches that burned in the woods, to beliefs that the town had been cursed by said witches and you had been surprised to learn that some of those stories not only scared adults but that they believed it.

And you also witnessed how the descendants of the founders still controlled the place.

Owners of buildings, stores, the hospital, even politicians, the descendants of the wealthy and exclusive original founder’s families were considered royalty with a legacy that stretched through all the branches of their family tree and were still as powerful as... Well, ever. And they were the ones who for decades had been powering the Season of the Witch during the month of Halloween, filling the town with tourists, attractions and a lot of town spirit and effort to entertain their visitors. Although it had become a more commercial thing that attracted many tourists, that did not mean that the people who lived there were not in fact superstitious, because they were. Which never ceased to amaze you to this day.

You could have sworn there was satisfaction in some eyes when you once watched as they reenacted the trials with volunteer actors in the central square and the witch was sent to the stake while the high school choir and band musicalized the bizarre scene.

''You people and your obsession with witches, I swear,'' you groaned in exhaustion. Having been chosen as part of the sorority group of witches, your schedule was full of activities, like posing at the haunted house opening, selling tickets for that, making sure no one trashed the decorations around the building and keeping an eye on the festivities in general while looking cute. You were like a car model but make it witchy. And kinda objectifying.

''Maybe that's the reason why Jaemin won't stop staring at you,'' Yuna said quietly, trying to dissimulate the conversation the three of you were sharing. When you heard her you turned your attention back to the audience and it only took you a few seconds to scan it until you found his piercing stare fixed on you. When their eyes met he smiled at you slowly, showing all of his perfectly sharp teeth. ''He seems obsessed with a certain little witch.''

Na Jaemin was the golden boy of the town and one of the descendants of the founders. He came from generations and generations of politicians and his father was currently the beloved town mayor, occupying the office until his son was ready to take his place in a few years and carry on the tradition as his ancestors had done before. No one challenged the Na's monopoly of power at elections simply because no one else was running for it. Nobody dared. They just let them win over and over again.

That was the way things were and the way it worked there. Jaemin happily participated in all the town's activities with a smile and a face that made everyone sigh with love. There was no one who could resist his charm and personality. Were there any homeless dogs? He would organize a responsible adoption day. An elderly neighbor needed help with his yard? No problem, he would mow the lawn himself without breaking a sweat and campaign for other neighbors to join in taking care of the senior's yard.

You heard thousands of rumors about him from girl's gossip too. He had a fame since highschool of a brutal fuckboy with a big cock who will destroy pretty girls and that image just grew more intensely when Jaemin matured more and became a man. Did you need tutoring? He would offer, of course, and then politely say goodbye after fucking you against a corner of the library.

Well, in fact all that side of his reputation was over since the day both had officially met.

Actually, you knew who Jaemin was because he was graduating when you entered high school for your last two years and he had a fan club that lived and talked about him in class composed of your classmates, depressed that they could no longer see him every day in the hallways, the cafeteria or at play field making the team win. He was a celebrity at school along with his friends. You had seen him a couple of times in the hallways and noticed his heavy gaze on you on many occasions, but you didn't expect any movement from Jaemin. At all. After all, you were an inexperienced kid compared to the popular, pretty cheerleaders girls he fucked- you didn't think he had that type on interest in you. Maybe he was looking at you because you were the new girl and that's it. You had paid more attention to other things, like studying and making friends - Yuna and Jia occupying that last position.

Jaemin had a whole group of friends who were known to be from founding families who settled the colony that grew into a town and hence the origin of the nickname people gave them, the Founders. They were the heirs, part of such an intimate circle that it was impossible to enter or leave. Obviously everyone wanted to interact with them, be their friend, cheer them on at their games, girls threw themselves at their feet- anyone wanted a piece of them. Invitations to parties, free booze and drugs- you name it, it was given to them. Shit, even the candy store downtown would give them a free bag every now and then.

They moved their reign from high school to college smoothly and effortlessly, and Jaemin had been handed the throne on a silver platter - the presidency of the NCT frat - thanks to Taeyong, who was graduating with honors and an incredible future thanks to the scholarship Jaemin's dad had given him.

To the neighbors he was a kind and charismatic guy, but you saw his other face, more intense but real, relaxed. Especially in those moments when he managed to capture you when you least expected it (or in fact you did, and hope for it), just like now- taken to an empty classroom where no one would interrupt. When both of you were together it was as if you could see him and not Na Jaemin, the leader of the Founders.

And the rumors turned out to be true. He fucked like a demon.

Jaemin smiles at you with hungry, dark eyes after closing the door behind him. ‘’Aren't you the prettiest thing?‘’ He said after sliding each of his hands on your waist and sitting you on the desk. He lifts some fingers and gently tugs the front of your hat until it falls in your field of vision. "Baby, I think you just bewitched me."

‘’Stooop,’’ you whined with a laugh, tapping on his hands away but not really, ’’you’re gonna mess up my hat and then Rosé it’s gonna scold me.’’

‘’Awwww, baby,’’ he cooed at you in a fake sweet tone, even pouting and ignoring how you try to get away from him. Instead, he cages you against the desk with his body with one firm push, both hands grabbing your thighs and squeezing them. ’’Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little dumb Rosé, don’t you? I’ll protect you,’’ he mocked you, parting your legs and positioning himself between.

Your relationship with Jaemin went from strangers who looked at each other in highschool curiously to insane rabbits fucking everytime they could. Jaemin didn't waste any time when you stepped foot on campus for your first year, giving you a invitiatión to your first frat party. The crazy, popular ones everyone knew were filled with descontrol and fun at the Neo Chi Theta frat. You were doubtful at first, not really trusting him and his friends- but your friends saw it as a golden ticket for you and them. But actually it took a whole more year for Jaemin chasing after you until you were his.

‘’Jaemin, I don’t think even you stand a chance against my stressed sorority president,’’ you pointed and the brown haired man laughs huskily in your neck as he starts kissing it and biting- your body reacting at the feel of his mouth on you. ’’Not to mention Jia and Yuna will join too, they think this costume is sacred or something.’’

And oh boy, how stressed Rosé was. The disastrous day started early, first with the weather- it rained a little bit out of nowhere and your sorority sisters runned around the whole place protecting the Halloween decorations. Then, the electricity went out- some light fuses or something exploiting in the basement. So Rosé became more hysterical, because that meant that there was no sound system: so no sound effects, no music and no microphone to use.

Luckingly for the entire sorority and Rosé state of mind, things became better: the power came back, the fusibles were replaced and everything went smoothly from there. But it was kinda strange, not happening ever before according to the maintenance staff who couldn't find an explanation of how it happened: the fusibles were brand new, just changed a few weeks ago.

‘’It is, it’s part of a large tradition,’’ he said while his big hands now grabs your tits so possesively with a grunt, his distractions are working-, ’’we take things seriously here, you still don’t understand that? I’ll show you.’’

You yelped for the second time of the day when you felt a tug in your dress followed by a sharp sound of fabric being ripped. You stared in incredulity at Jaemin while he rips your tiny dress from the neckline, liberating your breasts with a pleased, masculine groan. His long hands cupped your tits, holding them while his tongue slowly circles your nipples, hardening them before sucking them firmly, until they pop from his lips. In no time he’s having you moaning and tugging his hair while you rub against his cock, feeling it already hard in his pants. Jaemin makes a mess of saliva, slurping it and spitting again, giving you small bites and succions; marking the sensitive skin of your tits, knowing exactly how to make your pussy throb with desire.

‘’Fuck, baby, so fucking pretty,’’ he mumbled against your breasts, biting one of your nipples harder than before, making you complain with a high-pitched whine. His hand moved down your body to in between your legs, feeling your wet pussy through your panties totally messed up by your arousal. ‘’Acting all responsible and shit, being a brat but letting me do anything to you like the slut you are.’’

Your breath hitched as your heart races, unable to control your body's responses that are trained by Jaemin to obey him. More moistness soaked your thighs and you squirmed into his body, rubbing yourself with not a care in the world as you get a friction to your needy clit.

‘’But don't worry, I'm going to fuck that attitude out of you,'' Jaemin promised with a devilish smirk that makes you feel a hot sensation that thrills your belly with anticipation. Jaemin pulled away and crouched down, shoving your damp panties aside so he can spread your folds apart with his digits. He swiped them up and down, watching them cover your wet, glistening, pussy. ''This pretty, little pussy is all mine,'' he leaned into your dripping cunt, dying to taste you. His tongue traveled in its slow way, scooping up your slick in long, soft but firm licks that make you moan and claw at the edges of the desk. “So fucking messy and desperate.”

Jaemin keeps both hands spreading apart and gripping your thighs close to your chest as he devours you like a famished man, tasting, licking and sucking your pussy in the most filthy way. He moaned into your center and shoved his face deep to your pussy, showering himself with your juices. His tongue circled over your clit and wrapped his lips around it, sucking it and causing your hips to grind against it, fucking his face.

‘’Jaemin, please, more,” you pleaded with a moan as he sucks harder, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing and getting more and more wet, your whole body burning with pleasure. You watched as Jaemin pulls away for a second, strands of saliva connect to your core, his lips, chin and nose looking glossy with your slick. He looked so fucking hot it almost hurts and as you stare at him you feel a wave of possessiveness making you even more horny... and wild. This man is mine, you thought in your cloudy mind.

His tongue shoved into your entrance, fucking you with it and then making you moan gripping his hair as his nose bumped at your clit with every push of his face, causing you to see stars and keep moaning his name.

''Jaemin- fuck, don't stop,'' you cried out with another moan, feeling the pleasure flood your body, aching to close your legs around Jaemin's head but he maintains an iron grip on your thighs, leaving marks in the form of fingerprints. ''It feels so good, please,” you spluttered.

“Please what? Use your big girl words,” he said, his voice rough as he licked his lips, coated in your wetness and savoring you again. Jaemin started lapping at your cunt so he can catch a new rush of arousal with his tongue. You remained silent, just whimpering and mumbling nonsense. “Are you so fucked up already that you can't even speak, dumb slut?

He spanked one of your thighs and returned to eating your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit in circular motions and then sucking on it until you scream his name. His words are true, you were drifting as your mind goes into black, slipping into that headspace where you don't think, you only feel. Jaemin is set to make you scream, thrusting two long fingers inside you up to his knuckles, stroking your velvet walls as he slowly pushes them in first, in and out. They reach so deep, Jaemin finding that spot that makes you squeal and lift your hips, trying to fuck his fingers.

He curved them in and keep stroking that sweet spot, your body tingling with pleasure, facing the ceiling in blankness, a rush of heat building up in your core.

''Fuck, right there,'' you gasped, blushing a little as you notice the wet, loud sounds your pussy make as Jaemin drives his fingers in hard and quick, ''Nana, fuck- I'm gonna cum-’'

''Cum,'' Jaemin ordered, mouth pressed against your clit, still sucking and licking around it, ''cum on my fingers like a good slut for me.'' He continued to relentlessly fingering you, inhaling and exhaling your scent as he feels you tighten around his fingers. ''Pussy so tight and greedy, wanted to be stuffed and used.’’

You screamed his name and hold on to the desk with all your strength as you feel the orgasm overtake you, leaving you so breathless and so fucking satisfied as Jaemin holds you down, preventing your hips from rising again. Your legs trembled and you whimpered as you realized Jaemin hasn't stopped his fingers.

‘'One more,’' he said as he slided his fingers into your dilated hole, curling them in and making you moan. Jaemin smiled against your lips, kissing you again and drowning out your sounds of protests.

''Jaemin-'', you started to beg again, but he shushed you, by kissing you and raising on top of you, covering you with his body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still a brat, huh?” His free hand covers your under belly and applies pressure, in a way that feels so fucking good. “Be a good girl and cum for me again, pretty slut.”

You felt the intense pleasure returning to flood you as his fingers do not stop. You moaned as you felt another climax rising, the overstimulation too much, squeezing around Jaemin's fingers as your hand finds one of his wrists and you hold on to it. Your eyes welled up with tears as you hided your face in the crook of Jaemin's neck, sensing your body so overwhelmed by so much delight and a little pain... that you snap.

‘’Fuck yeah, that's it,” Jaemin praised you as you cummed all over, squirting with a choked moan that sends you limp on the desk, ‘‘cumming like a good slut, making a fucking mess,’’ he smiled proudly, noticing how your legs are shaking and your breath is hitching.

Jaemin let you catch your breath as he sucked his fingers, not getting enough of your taste. His mouth covered your lips, this time kissing you slowly, adoringly, more tenderly, making your insides curl but this time with a different sensation. His hands caresses your legs, your sides and even your tits gently, bringing a smile to your face. Typical Jaemin, tearing you apart and then treating you like precious crystal.

He steped back, using what's left of the fabric of your shredded dress to wipe the rest of your cum from your thighs and pussy, your heart fluttering from his affection. Jaemin helped you into a sitting position, kissing you gently again and stroked your cheeks, observing the state of you that he has made. Your makeup was a mess, long smudges of your mascara, lips swollen from his kisses and marks covering your neck and chest, looking all fucked. So fucking cute, he thinks. Jaemins chuckled, when he noticed your long forgotten witch's hat lying on the floor.

‘’Are you okay, baby?” He asked before removing his hoodie and pulling on your naked figure, which suits you large and covering just above your thighs. You nodded with a hum, exhausted and happy after two orgasms. ''You've done so well for me, my pretty little witch.’’

''Please don't remind me,'' you sighed, thinking of the heart attack Rosé would have if she could see you like this. You cuddled Jaemin, searching for his neck with your cheek and rubbing yourself on it, your hand slowly cupped his erection in his pants, but then a big, sudden sound startled you both and makes you stop in your tracks... fireworks?

A few moments later the classroom door opened and you both saw Renjun storming in, his usually relaxed face looked a little frenetic. “We need to leave right fucking now, Jaemin,” he said, preferring to ignore the smell of sex: he's was too used to you fucking all over the place, and he had more important matters anyway.

‘'What's the matter? Renjun, what's wrong?'' The frat president asksed, motioning his body in a way that shielded you from his friend's view with alarm taking over his voice.

''Everything! The power at the frat house went out and the Jack-o'-lanters that Mark and Jisung put up exploded all over the place, all the way to the ceiling! They had to call the fucking fire department,'' Renjuns explained looking at his blowing up phone with the text messages coming. ''Ten and Johnny are downtown, apparently the city's Halloween sign blew up too or I don't know, but it caught on fire too and so did the decorations-''

''Fuck. Are they okay?’’ He asked and Renjun noded, looking unusually shaken. ‘’Okay, calm down,'' Jaemin tried to soothe his friend, then looked at you a bit confused and worried, ''what was that sound we heard earlier then? It's too far away from NCT here.''

Jaemin took out his muted phone, seeing so many messages from his brothers and his father too, calling him- fucking furious his precious and expensive sign is wrecked. Mark was on his texts, telling him that the fire department has extinguished the small fire on the roof, not major damage but Jisung was a bit freaked out.

“I don't know what the fuck happened, maybe something electrical,” Renjuns sighed, and continued to explain, “but something blew up in the sorority's haunted house and the power is out too.”

You hearded heavy, rushed footsteps down the hallway and a new figure entered the classroom to your utter fucking embarrassment, but at least it's not university staff, but Zhong Chenle with a mad look on his face and black glasses pushed up onto his head.

“Jaemin, someone set the witch dummy on fire!” He yelled.

One of the oldest traditions of the Neo Chi Theta frat was their kick-off Halloween celebrations, in which they would go into the woods on the first weekend of October, light a fire and burn a giant dummy, several feet tall and tie it to a giant stake dressed as a witch. It was a tradition that dated back a couple of generations, to the great-great-grandparents of the current Founders. Started by Jaemin's great-great-grandfather, in fact.

The witch's dummy would burn all night while the DJ played music and people partied.

But apparently this year's dummy had been set on fire before its time while still locked in storage and no one knew how that happened, however Chenle and Donghyuck suspected that perhaps it was the prank of someone who had a death wish. The confection of the stupid witch dummy had been in the works for weeks, so Doyoung had to order a new one and the party had obviously been delayed at least one more week, so he paid more to get it ready sooner. And even though it had been a number of days, the NCT residents were still furious.

''I don't understand what's going on, but things are going all wrong,'' Yuna sighed, examining you, who were sitting on the bed sewing up a part of her skirt that had been holed after catching on a nail sticking out of the door.

''Don't be silly, I'm about to finish and it's barely noticeable,'' you murmured, running the needle quickly through the shiny fabric, ''we'll make it to the party on time, you'll see,'' you comment in concentration.

''I don't think she's talking about her skirt, babe,'' Jia joined the conversation, finishing applying her makeup in front of the mirror and looking at you both through it. ''Rosé is furious, the whole opening was ruined. Good thing the guys were able to work out the dummy witch thing for tonight.''

''And the NCT house! Can you imagine if it had burned down? That's so scary,'' Yuna continued, getting up from her spot and scooting over to sit next to you. She rests her head on your shoulder, watching you continue sewing with a pout. ''Thank goodness no one got hurt.''

''Mmmm,'' you murmured not really listening and startle when your friend pokes your side playfully with a frown, wanting your attention. ''Ow! What was that for?'', you asked and examine your finger, which you pricked with the sewing needle.

''I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Let me see,'' she gasped your name regretfully, taking your hand and inspecting your finger carefully, feeling guilty. ''There's no bleeding,'' Yuna murmured, a little surprised after a few seconds of checking it.

‘’It didn't go that deep, don’t worry’’ you assured her, taking your finger into your mouth and sucking the tip anyways while giving back Yuna her skirt. ‘’I already finished, anyways.’’

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek, quickly putting her skirt back on. ‘’You're the best, thank you! Now... Do you think Chenle will like this outfit?” she asked, posing and pointing her ass at you.

You spanked her, making her squeal and you both let out a giggle, catching Jia's attention. ''I don't think Chenle likes anything but basketball,'' you blurted, leaning back on the bed, ''you should go for someone else. Maybe someone who isn't the personification of a sour candy.''

''Ohhhh, so you admit there's some sweetness in him,'' Yuna joked, winking at you and you faked a gag, rolling your eyes. ‘’Stop doing that! He's cute,'' she insisted, and even Jia looked at her in amusement. ‘’He is! Okay, you should be nice to him anyway, you know? He's Jaemin's friend and-’’

''One of the Founders, yeah, yeah, I know,'' you sighed, ''and he's important and you'll marry him someday,'' you continued, reciting the words Yuna convinced you two to memorize in support of manifesting for her. She nodded and Jia snorted, thinking her delusional friend is cute.

The party and dummy burn was tonight, so you were getting ready with your two friends in Jia's room. It was also the first time you were going, not joining things like this since you moved to the town, like any witches and trials bullshit. But this time Jaemin invited you and you couldn't say no to him- besides, you haven't seen him daily this week, like you've gotten accustomed to since you first met him. He was busy with frat stuff like the dummy and the exploding decorations in the house- Renjun thinking that somehow someone must have set off a firecracker as a stupid Halloween prank, and also with family matters like the reopening of a new Witch Season sign in town. That didn't mean you two didn't talk, actually facetiming and calling each other but it obviously wasn't the same. And you missed him a lot.

''Speaking of founders, I think I'll fuck Jeno tonight,'' Jia said thoughtfully as the three of you reached the woods, cars everywhere and groups of what you assumed were students yelling and cheering, some of them clearly already drunken.

''Okay,'' you started a little confused, guarding your steps even though there are pumpkin-shaped garlands of orange lights guiding the way, ''don't you do that every day? Like... you let him sleep in your room when NCT's roof caught on fire a few days ago.’’

''Yeah, but I haven't since then. I want to drive him crazy, you know? He still has not asked me out and we've been fucking for months,'' she sighed, but there is determination in his eyes when he looks at you. ''I want a relationship like yours, I want a Founder too, can you imagine? The three of us having a Founder. Everyone would envy us,'' Jia saids, and Yuna giggled and agreed.

You smiled and hope none of your friends can tell it's fake. Comments like that started to become habitual weeks ago and it makes you uncomfortable, especially when you sometimes feel your friends' jealous eyes on you and Jaemin when the two of you are together. When Jia and Yuna saw Jaemin's interest in you, they urged you towards him at every opportunity, helping him. At first you thought they were just being good friends, trying to help you pick up a hot guy. But deep down you knew they saw you as the key to a social circle: the Founders' circle. When things with Jaemin got more serious, each of them set their sights on a specific Founder, which turned out to be Jeno and Chenle.

Jeno and Chenle were of course interested, because Jia and Yuna were gorgeous, with nice bodies and amazing smiles, just two cute girls who could have whoever they wanted. But none of them acted like Jaemin had acted and instead they kept playing their own way, having girl after girl and partying and being the residents fuckboys of NCT. No settling down for now, but you know and your friends too know that at some point in the future they had to marry a good and worthy town girl. What better plan than to work towards that position now?

Your thoughts were broken when the three of you finally arrived and the first thing you spotted was the biggest fucking dummy ever seen. Almost like the old trees in the forest, a huge figure covered in a big dress and witch's hat, stuffed with dried leaves and straw so it could burn faster. It was not yet ignited, but you could see from afar the standing bodies of Doyoung and Jisung preparing it, pouring gasoline at its feet.

Yuna dragged you and Jia towards the movable bar where Donghyuck and Jeno are already drinking, screaming. “Let's get drunk!’’

You couldn't stop yourself to watch the dummy witch from time to time, thinking it looked kinda strange. This whole party felt like that, and you understand that it's a tradition but the meaning behind it is... problematic. The witches the town burned where innocent women persecuted for dumb reasons. And now people burned a giant dummy of one of them with a live DJ.

You losted your friends a while ago, Jia leaving with Jeno to God knows where and Yuna chasing Chenle who is more busy talking about the match they won last month with Jungwoo, another Neo Chi Theta brother. So you stayed quietly drinking for a while, checking your phone for a text from Jaemin. He had told you a little while ago that he was coming, but you hadn't seen him yet. Out of nowhere you felt a pair of hands come from behind and clutch your waist, causing you to jump. Jaemin chuckles behind you and draws you into his body, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck as he coos at you.

''What's got you so jumpy, mmh?''

''Nothing, you just scared me,'' you said as you turned around, bringing your arms to his neck and inspecting how he combed his hair, clearing his forehead. He looked so handsome to you, feeling the familiarity of his presence complete you. ''You look so handsome, Nana.''

He looked at you and grinned, that big tooth-filled grin that makes him look a little wild, but unbelievably cute. That's what his vibes were like.

''I've missed you so much, baby,'' he murmured, not wasting any more time, and kisses you. His hands traveled up and down your frame, ruffling your skirts with his hands. You felt the heat radiating from his body and you feel better than earlier, knowing he was with you, desiring nothing more than to climb him like a tree and devour him. ''Fuck, I'm going to have my time with you tonight, angel.''

''Hey you two lovebirds!'' Donghyuck's loud voice suddenly cuted in and he grabs Jaemin and pulls him away from you. ''We need our leader to start the fire, but don't worry, pretty girl,'' he says, smirking flirty at you, ‘’I’m gonna keep you compa- ow!’’

Donghyuck holded the spot where Jaemin punched him and stared at him, while Jaemin does the same to Hyuck until he throwed up his hands in surrender. You can't deny that you don't love seeing Jaemin like this, acting as the dominating leader and driving Hyuck away. Once you and Jaemin are back alone, he gived you another kiss and fiddled with a strand of your hair by wrapping it around his finger, tugging lightly to get your attention.

“Wait for me, okay? Don't you leave with nobody, I'm going to light the fucking dummy and come back quick,'' Jaemin saids using his ridiculous baby voice, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes giving him a soft shove.

''Yeah, go set that horrible thing on fire already,'' giving him another nudge as he pulled your strand of hair playfully, kissing you once again before leaving.

He smiled at you and turns away, moving through the crowd. Some people waving at him and several girls staring at him with interest. You'd felt jealous but you know Jaemin is yours and he's proved it, but you can't help thinking about them stopping their stares. You went to the bar again and Kun, the frats house bartender, poured you the special punch he prepared, a dark red drink with a fruity flavor and definitely a lot of vodka.

You were torn between ignore the dummy about to be burned or not, part of you wanted to see Jaemin in all his glory and power, and part of you wanted to not partake in this silly event. You saw part of the flickering garland of lights in the bar, drawing Kun's attention as well, but just at that moment your eyes are elsewhere as Yuna leaned on the bar with an annoyed expression.

“You were right. Chenle is a stupid ugly candy,'' she mumbled, and you followed her gaze fixed on the boy's form. He was still talking to Jungwoo, but now some pretty girls have joined in, and you recognized some of the cheerleading squad. Chenle grabbed one of them by the waist.

Yikes.

''I don't think I'd quite say that,'' you commented as you take a sip of your drink and then hand it to Yuna, who picks it up and chugs it all in one shot. You know your friend very well, so you already know how the storm that was brewing in her eyes would eventually end. Probably with lighting and rain. And some cheerleader being threatened. You weren't really sure Chenle could handle a storm like that, but you sure as hell didn't want to see that. Yikes again. “You know what? I think I have to go to the bathroom-''

''Wait, no! They're setting the dummy on fire! Look, there's Jaemin,'' she exclaimed, shifting her attitude and tugging you along with her. You see him, holding up a lit up torch and creepily everyone falls silent, almost as if they're holding their breath. ''He looks so good,'' she sighed dreamily. She doesn't seem to have noticed that she said it out loud, brushing herself off right away.

Even though the DJ stops the music, Yangyang is still with his headphones on and filming everything with his phone. All eyes turned to Jaemin, who was showing a serious face, escorted not far away by the other founding members. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny, Jeno, Renjun and even Chenle, who seems to have made it in time, all watch silently as their leader throwed down the torch and set the giant witch dummy on fire.

The dummy bursted into fire and the blaze consumes it so quickly that it rises up to the dummy's hat fast. The crowd erupted into a craziness as the music returns, creating an explosion of energy and cheering, everyone jumping up and down and singing the song that Yangyang remixes. You leaved without a word, feeling uneasy and a little pissed off at Yuna's words from earlier. You maked your way through the crowd to leave the center of the party. It was too much. You needed another drink, you think, drumming your fingers on the bar as Kun fixes you the same punch as before, but now in the dark after one of the garland lights burned out. Luckily they had a spare, which Jisung was setting up.

You saw Jia coming your way, looking a little drunk and her makeup not as perfect as when you saw her earlier. "Babe, I've been lookin' for you! We're having a private bonfire, are you coming?''

''This isn't the bonfire?'' You asked a little confused, signaling the burning dummy with your head.

''Yes, but the Founders are having a private one, Johnny brought good wine and Donghyuck has some blunts. We're gonna smoke and tell scary stories!''

''I don't know, Jaemin told me to wait for-'' you started but Jia doesn't listen to you, tangles his arm with yours and drags you, ''Jia!’’

''Relax babe, Jaemin is already there with the others,'' she assured you, and smiles at you.

You wrinkled your nose at your boyfriend when you reached him and see he's sitting on the ground near the small campfire, impatiently looking at you.

''See, your girlfriend is here,” Renjun said to him and Jaemin flashes his middle finger at him. The handsome leader hugs your legs once you're close to him and he pouted at you, his hands now caressing the back of your knees. ''I told you Jia was bringing her.''

''I'm sorry, angel. They pulled me in and wouldn't let me go, saying I'd get lost.''

''Aren't you like the leader or something?'' you said sarcastically, sitting on his lap. You hear a chorus of ''ohhhhhhhh!'' and laughter. Jaemin just smirks, removes his jacket and covers you with it, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You knew you're going to paid for that challenge later, and you hoped so. You loved it when he punished your brattiness.

You heard your name being called and you realize it’s Donghyuck, who’s lighting up a blunt and taking a hit of it. ‘’So, I know the perfect story for tonight. Tell me, you don’t know much about our town history, right?’’

You shaked your head and shrugged, ‘’I don’t, not really. Well, just the dumb witch stuff and all that.’’

“So you don't know the full story? Like, everything that happened,'' Marks asked as he helped Johnny pull some bottles of wine out of a box, ''the entire timeline and the crazy stuff.’’

''What's there to know, really? People went crazy with mass hysteria and religious paranoia. They took innocent women and burned them at the stake,'' you remarked feeling a little shy afterwards as you notice the silence that forms but speaking your mind- but you can't help being honest. Jaemin rubbed your thigh, reassuring you, and you relaxed against his chest.

''Yeah, but,'' Renjuns joined in, taking the joint Hyuck offers him, ''they weren't innocent, they actually cursed the town. Everyone knows it started when Sarah, the middle witch, had her poor, evil heart broken.''

''What do you mean?'' You frownew.

''Hyung, tell the story from the very beginning!'' Chenle told him excitedly, lighting a joint on his own and passing it to Jisung after blowing out the smoke.

‘’Yeah, hyung,’’ Jisung said, getting comfortable on the ground and sipping from Mark’s wine bottle. ‘’You always tell it so good.’’

Donghyuck smiled from the praises and waited until the rest find their places around the bonfire; Jia with Jeno, Johnny and Doyoung sitting next to each other and sharing a bottle of wine and Mark and Renjun on some old, falling tree serving as a chair.

‘’It all started when the mother of the seven girls died,‘’ Hyucks beggined to narrate. ‘’They lived in peace with other people, they were nice and all. The seven sisters were known in town for their beauty, but the middle one, Sarah, was on another level. Soft skin and shiny hair, eyes full of innocence,’’ he paused, eyes moving toward Jaemin. ‘’Of course it caught the attention of the widowed Mayor.’’

You sensed Jaemin tensing behind you, fingers tightening painfully against your belly and you caressed his hand, wanting to relax like he did before to you. It was a little weird knowing that a direct descent of that Mayor was cuddling you in his arms.

‘’His wife died one cold winter, so young just like him, so every girl in town wanted to take her place. Whorever, they didn’t stand a chance,’’ Hyuck said gloomily, ‘’he was bewitched with Sarah. That’s when everything started going to shit.’’

Everyone listened to him thoughtfully, you noticed, as the sounds of the party happening not far along fill the forest but are ignored by the Founders. They kept smoking and drinking, except for you, actually interested in listening to the whole story. Maybe it was the way Donghyuck was using his smooth, velvety voice, but it was alluring you nonetheless.

‘’First, the fresh milk went sour, but that could happen, right? It was the old times after all. But then, some women started getting sick and weak, worrying the entire town. The unmarried ones started losing hair and having nightmares, so they turned to their scared mothers and told them what was causing it: the seven sisters. They saw them looking wickedly at them one afternoon after service, smiling like angels while cursing the poor girls like demons.’’

‘’That’s so ridiculous’’, you laughed, interrupting him and shaking your head. ‘’They were clearly having an intense fólie a deux, and sure most of them even faking it.’’

Donghyuck and the rest ignored your comment except for Jaemin, who you felt smile against your nape. Chenle, on the other hand, hushed you, signaling the teller to continue. He did, taking a sip of the wine Doyoung passed him.

''So the men assembled one night and went to investigate. They went to the seven sisters' house, but it was deserted. Their things were all inside, so the men knew they must be somewhere else. But they weren't working on the small farm next to the house either, so they searched the woods. And that's where they found the witches,” he stopped again for a second, building suspense, ”they were dancing naked, singing in an unknown language and having a small bonfire in honor of the Devil. The smoke was red and they were laughing maniacally, some of them were even floating in the air, terrifying the group of men.''

''Then the town council held a meeting. They were sick of the witches and their spells, who were trying to bring ruin to the good people,'' Renjun interrupted knowing the story by heart and Hyucks whined at him, irritated by his intromision.

''The council?'' You asked and Jia muttered your name looking at you like you're dumb.

''The original founders, our past families,'' Doyoung explained as he opened another bottle of wine, ''commanded by their Reverend, of course.''

Mark remained silent, and you understan his lack of comment because there's gossip you heard after you arrived in town and Jia explained to you who was who. Apparently, well no, actually, Mark was a direct descendant of the first reverend, but he came from a bastard son. Obviously his ancestor had sacred vows and couldn't marry, but it didn't surprise you that he had sex. All men were hypocrites, especially in those days. However, he and his family were considered a Founder anyways.

''So they settled that it was time for a trial. The mayor at the time advocated for the sister's innocence and asked for fairness, so the reverend reassured him that they would do so, they knew how to determine if the girls were witches or not. But little did they know that the girls planned to escape after seeing how the town treated them, even beating one of them one afternoon here in the middle of the town's central square. Imagine how disappointed the mayor was with Sarah, his precious lover was a damned liar trying to run away,” the narrator shaked his head, ‘’but thankfully they were caught red-handed and the Mayor himself put Sarah in the dungeon,‘’ Hyuck proudly continued.

You saw something moving in the corner of your eye catching your attention and turning your head to see better, but there’s nothing more than darkness in the forest. Someone was sneaking up with a girl, maybe? You swear you heard crunching leaves or maybe a branch. You curled more into Jaemins body who mistaked the movement for cold or fright, giving you a worried look as he hugged you more tightly.

''So the trials began. They did tests for the sisters, information coming from high ranks of the Church that guided the reverend in the art of finding a witch,'' Hyuck stared at you and held his eyes on you while he told the next part. ''Witches don't bleed, so they poked their fingers with sharp needles to prove it but their veins were dry. Witches have the mark of the devil on them, so they looked for that and found moles on the sister's skin, pitching them with hot iron sticks afterwards.''

You can’t help the sadness extending through your heart, listening to Donghyuck telling it in horror. It was a horrible story that was real, not some shit made up- these people existed. You feel sick to your stomach, a pinch of anxiety rising inexplicably.

‘’Witches have light bodies, to levitate and fly, so they took some sisters and judged that, pushing them off the highest cliff into the cold water to see if they could float or fly away in the wind. They sank and drowned, so the people who gathered to watch prayed for their souls. But that didn’t end there, some of them were still being interrogated. Witches can’t cry, so they were surprised when the remaining sisters cried while tortured. But… it could all been a trick, right?’’

The whole group is silenced by Donghyuck's mesmerizing voice as he talks and you just look at the fire while listening, imagining everything that went down with the seven sisters. You couldn't even try, tho. That kind of suffering is too much to handle. How scared they must be, seeing their sisters die one after another? Sustain all that pain?

Donghyuck took a pause to take a sip of the wine, continuing. ‘’After all, the whole town was cursed by them. Strange things started to happen in addition to the old testimonies. Blood started to appear in the medic’s house walls, and the shared office of the judge and the notary caught fire. And weird things kept happening, like hundreds of death flies appearing in the church and the banker having the windows in his house explode out of nowhere one day, pieces of glass cutting his face. The commissioner saw with his own eyes how his cows started giving blood instead of milk. So they all had enough. The only sister remaining was Sarah, so it must be her doing.’’

You felt Jaemin's body tensing, reacting to your own body stiffening. You couldn't help yourself, scared for the story, seeing how far these people were with their believings. He pushed his hand underneath your sweater, stroking your belly softly, covering with his whole palm making you shudder.

‘’So they decided it was time for her to pay and put an end to all this,’’ Donghyuck stopped and took his time in watching everyone, raising his eyebrows and smiling, the fire of the campfire making his eyes shine, ‘’she was declared guilty and condemned with death by fire, just like in hell. That same night they set up a huge bonfire and tied Sarah to the stake. The whole town went, some spitting on her and some scared of the witch too, but curious.’’

Donghyuck winked at you. ‘’And guess who lit the fire, my pretty, unbelieving cutie,’’ he asked, making Jaemin groan in warning, and you keep silent. ‘’You guessed right. It was the Mayor.’’

A breeze of wind pickups then, making you shiver and winding up the campfire in front of you. The top of the trees moves, the sound of its branches moving even despite the distant music of the party. But nobody seems to care, as is normal in a forest.

"To our founders!" Johnny cheered, raising his bottle of wine in a toast.

"You guys are way too comfortable feeling proud of having burned people," you huffed, settling into Jaemin's lap, feeling cold, "sorry if I find this fascination you have for baseless murders bizarre."

‘’Didn't you hear the story? They had proof, the whole town was fucking enchanted,’’ Chenle raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and taking another puff from his blunt.

Marks speaked then, looking kinda embarrassed. ‘’It's not a fascination, it's just—our ancestors did what they believed was best.’’

"Oh God, you don't really think those women were witches, do you?" You started to laugh, but you immediately stopped when you saw that no one is laughing with you. "You guys can't be serious."

"Well, but think about it a bit. Strange things were happening back then, it's written in the records, there are testimonies. Those women were accused for good reason, surely," Jia said, pushing herself closer to Jeno.

‘’Yeah? Like what? To have their dress better ironed? Or maybe they didn't make the butter salty enough for the founders' taste," you joked ironically, winning yourself some eye rolls and scoffs.

‘’Were you listening at all? They have motives, the witches were invoking the Devil and bringing dark shit to the town,’’ Johnny throwed you a unimpressed look.

‘’You can believe whatever, but witches were real then,’’ Doyoung said, swirling his bottle of wine and shrugging. ‘’And probably are now, just hiding better.’’

Renjun stood up, stretching and taking another hit before heading towards the party, not without saying: "And nowadays, strange things are happening too, just like back then. "

Doyoung seemed thoughtful, considering it as he lowers his bottle. "Yes, you're right... too many strange accidents."

‘’You think a witch did it?’’ Jisung asked, looking very scared by that idea.

"Having electrical problems and an idiot running around blowing up pumpkins is not a rare accident," Jaemin denied, looking bored. He starts kissing your shoulder, more focused on touching you and warming you up than on the chills he feels running down your legs. He gave you a little nudge on your side indicating that you should get up, and you obed instantly, happy to leave that place once and for all.

‘’But you can’t deny that witches exist, right, Jaem?’’ Johnny said, teasing him.

‘’If you guys have bloody walls and sick cows, you should call the university staff,’’ you teased the Founders, taking Jaemin's hand, who also gets up and stretches with a grunt when his back cracks. You start to walk away with him, letting yourself be guided by your boyfriend towards the party again. ‘’Or fund the witch police, I’m sure there’s a budget for that!’’

That same night much later, you were in Jaemin's bed, wearing one of his t-shirts while you both watch an old horror movie on TV together before going to sleep, it's almost dawn. Curled up against his side, you look at him from beneath your lashes, studying the curves of his face in silence without paying attention to the movie until Jaemin feels your gaze on him and looks at you, smiling as he notices your expression and affectionately caressing your waist.

"Can I help you, angel?"

"Yes," you admited immediately, moving on top of him to settle yourself on his lap. You cradled his face and kiss him, Jaemin's hands immediately grabbing your thighs and moving up to squeeze your butt with a sleepy grunt. "I want to ask you something," you murmured against his lips, licking yours.

"What is it?" Jaemin asked, tilting his head and playing with the edge of his shirt on you, lifting it slowly but you stop him before he distracts you with another session of sex.

You didn't know how to start, so you went straight to the point. "Nana... the story that Hyuck told, I was wondering," you paused, straighten up above him, "why do you think Sarah didn't take revenge on the Mayor like she did with the council members? Sorry, I know he's your ancestor and all, but I'm curious.’’

Jaemin studied you for a few seconds and then he smiled, slipping his hands under the shirt to caress your skin, sliding his palms over your ribs and the edge of your breasts. "What do you think? They loved each other. I stole his diary a few years ago from my father's library and read it myself. They loved each other so much. The Mayor wanted to marry her even before he was with his first wife, but Sarah came from a poor family and his family insisted. That happened before the village was established, I think.’’

‘’What happened to him? Obviously he got remarried, otherwise you wouldn't be here," you joked, brushing his hair back.

‘’He married one of the girls who had accused Sarah, but because he needed an heir. It wasn't a happy marriage, according to his diary and... he always regretted betraying her," Jaemin responded, looking thoughtful for a moment. He bringed his hands to your back and pulled you back towards him, kissing you softly on your lips. ‘’He continued writing about her and…,’’ the stoped, eyeing your lips.

"And...?" you asked with curiosity, urging Jaemin to continue after he stops. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and then opens them, his face illuminated by the faint light of dawn coming through the window, giving Jaemin a soft appearance.

"And he always had nightmares, until he died. About her. He saw her hurt, crying for him, and burning at the stake... he regretted everything he made her go through, he wished he had helped her escape or hide," Jaemin explained, sitting with you still holding you in his arms for a better reach to your mouth. He kissed you gently, hugging you by the waist. Then he added: ‘’He didn't believe she was bad, it was impossible. Sarah was the kindest woman he had ever known, according to him. He wrote about her until the day of his death, she is the last entry in the diary.’’

"But everyone sees him as a hero or something like that. He was the one who lit the fire," you murmured, unable to avoid thinking about how terrible it must have been for both of them... but especially for Sarah.

Jaemin sighed and pulled at the shirt you're wearing until he takes it off, and this time you let him. "But people don't know the diary exists, baby. Everyone believes the story they've heard, the version Hyuck told last night. The official version of the town.’’

"Why haven't you told them, Jaemin? You know the truth, that Sarah wasn't an evil witch," you said, frowning, letting Jaemin change positions, lying you down on the bed and positioning himself on top of you, parting your legs with a tender but firm touch.

"And who said I won't tell it soon?"

The leader of the Founders smiled at you, and for a moment, you can do nothing but just look at him, feeling your heart soften and explode at the same time, feeling so in love that you forget how to breathe. You felt the electricity inside you like every time you're with Jaemin and sparks fly, vibrating with anticipation when his touch becomes intimate and sensual. Your body arched against his as you both kissed deeply, your breath quickening with each passing second, unable to control some moans that escape you when you feel him hard against your stomach. His slow kisses traveled to your neck, kissing and sucking as well, causing your body to fill with shivers.

"Jaemin, wait-," you stopped him, having one last question before continuing, holding his face so he looks at you. ‘’The last entry in the diary... What did he write?’’

Your favorite smile from Jaemin appeared on his lips, full of teeth and tempting lips, but filled with a pure sweetness he has reserved for you, sporting that expression of bright and mischievous eyes that drived you crazy. He comed near your mouth again and kissed you slowly, full of love.

"That he wished they could be together in their next life."

The days went on, and so did the little accidents, as the townspeople and tourists tried to enjoy the various activities of Season of the Witch. The highschool choir lost their voices and couldn't participate in the reenactment of the burning of the witch Sarah in the town center, and in the middle of the play, the judge's table broke, causing the poor actor to fall and making the audience laugh. The haunted house of your sorority had so many problems that they weren't selling many tickets, so Rosé simply decided to cancel it, giving up after the damn fuses burned out for the tenth time in the little time that had passed in the month.

Chenle was determined to catch the one who had blown up his pumpkins at home, convinced that it was the same person who had blown them up at the frat and who also had a new prank, breaking the witch figures that the neighbors hung in their yards. The basketball team captain was sure that the culprit was some university student who had dared to take their pranks further and make an enemy by puncturing all the balls in the team's storage until they were deflated. Chenle was so furious that he was going to break the culprit's teeth when he caught him, as he had sworn to Renjun when the team couldn't have a practice game that day.

Renjun's room had flooded, ruining his university books and papers, so he had to spend the days leading up to Halloween redoing them to study for his exams the following week. He was convinced that one of his fraternity brothers, like Hendery or Yangyang, was playing pranks on him, because his new notes kept disappearing until it stopped being fucking funny.

Mark and Doyoung were becoming irritable because they were having constant nightmares and not sleeping well. Doyoung tried taking some pills to rest, but they were worse—trapping him in horrible dreams without being able to wake up and throwing them out the window the next day. Mark was grumpy and a bit paranoid, insisting that his cross necklace, originally inherited from the reverend, had disappeared and that he heard noises when he was alone. But Johnny was sure it was because Mark had the messiest room and his system was full of Redbull and he was sleeping little. Mark had reached his limit when he found a couple of dead flies on his desk and freaked out. He refused to sleep in his room, now being Chenle's temporary roommate.

Poor Johnny went through a few days of mourning when the shelves of his wine cellar gave way and broke without warning, shattering all the hundreds of precious, expensive wine bottles that he and his father had collected together. The worst part is that no one had noticed for a few days, so the wine was left there until the smell of rot filled the room and the floor had to be replaced.

Donghyuck's car tires had been slashed, the fuel tank filled with water, and as if that weren't enough, they had scratched the entire exterior, leaving the crowbar perfectly wedged against the driver's side window after finishing the job. He had tried to look at the security cameras like Chenle, but just like his, they didn't work. The image looked blurry until it went black as if there was some interference, so he had to accept that his car was ruined without catching the culprit for the moment.

Jeno realized that his protein shakes tasted like crap and didn't understand why, maybe because he was trying a new brand and flavor. It wasn't until he realized that the milk in his fridge was sour and spoiled, which was confusing. The milk hadn't expired, but when she smelled it through the package, the rotten smell made him gag. He bought a new pack at another store—just to be sure—and when he tried his shake at the gym, he spat it out in front of everyone, feeling that disgusting rotten taste again.

A few days before Halloween and the NCT party, the six Founders barged into Jaemin's room unannounced and surrounded him. The leader raised an eyebrow and lowered his phone, pausing his game, looking at them all without understanding anything and annoyed by the interruption.

‘’What?’’

"We need to talk," Doyoung started, crossing his arms. "We have a problem."

Jaemin sitted down and put his phone away, giving his brothers his full attention. ‘’What’s it? The TXT frat is fucking with us again? I thought I was clear when I punched the president at the spring party.’’

Chenle went straight to the point, sitting in a chair in his leader's room, face unreadable as he’s wearing his classic black sunglasses hiding his eyes. ‘’We have a witch in our hands.’’

Since you had woken up on Halloween day, you felt like everyone had reached their peak weirdness. The days before, when you saw Jaemin's friends around campus, they wouldn't even look at you; in fact, you thought they were avoiding you. Jia was acting similarly, making excuses about having a lot of homework and exams, which you understood. Your relationship with Yuna had been in a strange place since the night of the witch burning, and things had worsened when your ex friend started to take an increasing interest in Jaemin. Apparently, Chenle was a thing of the past and your friend wanted another Founder, with her eyes on the leader. Despite everything, it was strange to get ready alone in your room when you were used to doing it with your friends.

Everyone on campus was going to the annual NCT costume party that night, known for being one -if not the most- wild of the year, epic and out of control. The Founders paid the university to look the other way and not interrupt, letting them do whatever they wanted. Of course, the deal worked successfully every year.

You had chosen a somewhat cliché fallen angel outfit. You were wearing small black wings and a lace top of the same color to match your cute body-hugging skirt and high boots, definitely a sinful angel, as Jaemin had said when you sent him a photo before going out. You didn't really feel like putting too much effort into your costume, although you did want to look good. Really bloody and terrifying costumes weren't your thing anyway, in fact, nothing of that sort at all.

You made your way into the NCT house, a bit surprised by the party's budget. The broken decorations had been replaced with new ones, and the entire front yard had tombs, moving figures of ghosts and vampires, obviously a witch; there was even a smoke machine that added a terrifying touch. It looked like it was straight out of a fucking horror movie, and people had followed the dress code to the max, the costumes you saw had high production value and quality. Jaemin hadn't told you he was going in disguise, but you had a slight suspicion when he sent you some tweets of Ghostface and asked if you liked the mask.

You entered the house with deafening music and colored lights, filled with people dancing, others playing games and drinking, and some even kissing in the corners. It was a typical frat party, but the night felt different... maybe because it was Halloween. Supposedly it was a night of witches and demons, right? The air felt tense, as if something were about to happen but you didn't quite know what it was.

You were looking for Jaemin when someone suddenly crosses your path and says your name. Yangyang takes off his Art the Clown rubber mask to greet you. "What are you wearing?" he asked, a bit offended, observing your outfit and frowning. "It's supposed to be Halloween, not the Victoria's Secret fashion show. Hey, not that I'm complaining, anyway! Are you sure you want to date Jaemin and not me?" He speaked quickly, looking at you mischievously without letting you get a word in.

"Yes, Yangyang, I'm sure," you responded immediately, without paying attention to his comments. "Have you seen Jaemin?"

‘’Nope! I haven't seen any Founders, actually," he frowned as if he was realizing it at that moment and shrugged, lowering his mask. ‘’Anyway, don't try the punch! I put way too much rum in that shit when Kun wasn't looking," he warned, giving you a kiss on the cheek and quickly fleeing while laughing like an evil and silly gremlin.

You continued your way through the party and decided to skip some places, heading directly to the stairs to go to Jaemin's floor. You were walking down the hallway and don't notice a door opening behind you as you pass, a black figure in a hood appearing. He followed you a few steps, acting quickly when he realizes you felt him behind you. The stranger grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, making you scream in surprise, calming down only a little when you realize it's Ghostface the one holding you. His hand covered your neck and squeezed it slightly, feeling your pulse race with fear.

"No, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me! I want to appear in the sequel!" you laughed, breaking free from his grip with a shove and running towards his room before he can catch you again. You opened the door feeling the adrenaline fill you and you are about to close it behind you when Jaemin put his foot in and pushes it open. You slowly backed up to the bed while Jaemin locks the door, taking off his mask and tossing it aside.

''Do you think it's okay to keep escaping from me? Angel, angel... You never learn your lesson, do you?” Jaemin asked, moving towards you slowly, speaking in a tone of mock sympathy. You felt excitement wash over you, your thighs rubbing together as you stared at him and he noticed, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Kneel,” he ordered, resting a hand on your head to press you down. “You didn't think I was going to forget the punishment I owe you, did you?”.

“N-no,” you replied, your knees hitting the floor. Jaemin's hand gently caressed your cheek until he slided his fingers up to your mouth, rubbing them against your lips. ‘’Nana-’’

He slapped your cheek with his other hand, not too hard but firm enough to make you gasp and shut up. ''I thought so. Always so chatty, so defiant. But don't worry, angel, I know the best way to shut you up. Open your mouth, pretty slut.’’

You licked your lips and then part them, looking at Jaemin with pitiful eyes. He slipped his fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them immediately, swirling your tongue over them and cupping your cheeks to suck them eagerly, breathing through your nose as he takes them deep into your throat until you choke. He did it again and again until saliva begins to drip from the corners of your lips, feeling it dripping down your cleavage. You inhaled air through your mouth as he wiped away the wetness on your lips, making you more of a sloppy mess. He grabbed your hair and hold it in his fist as he shooted you a stern look as your hand groped the bulge in his pants covered by the black robe of the costume.

''So fucking needy, can't you wait for my cock, mm? You better not close your mouth, understand?” he said, releasing you to unbutton his pants. You obed him and keep your mouth open, tongue hanging out and feeling the saliva dripping down as you wait for him. He looked at you with smug satisfaction as he pulled his cock out of his boxers and rubbed it up against your pretty face, the thick, long cock rubbing your cheek and nose, even brushing against your tongue as Jaemin stroked himself in front of you.

You moaned when Jaemin let out a rough growl as he pressed his balls against your tongue and you flicked your tongue along them, feeling so powerful as you pleasure him. Jaemin grabbed your head as before and drived his cock into your mouth, thrusting lazily as your lips wrap around it and sucked on it, your tongue circling his thickness. You sucked him at his pace, slow, deep lunges that made you moan around him, feeling him hard in your mouth and giving you the occasional gag when he stayed too long at the back of your throat.

He only pulled out when you blink and a few tears escape, smiling down at you from his height and letting you breathe for a few seconds before plunging back into the back of your mouth, pushing his cock until your nose bumps against his pelvis.

He placed both hands on your head and holded you down, fucking your face more rapidly, making you gag around his cock and reaching a hand between your legs, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit. ''Fuck, so fucking good, sucking cock like the whore you are,” he grunted, slamming it down your throat over and over as you gagged and tried to relax your jaw, taking his huge cock with your slacked mouth.

You breathed shakily as you let Jaemin continue to fuck your mouth, moving your fingers around faster on your clit and even sliding one finger into your aching pussy, moaning as you moved them in the same pace as Jaemin was using your throat and even slidded another digit in.

''A dirty angel, preparing her pussy to be fucked without my permission,” Jaemin scolded you, pushing his cock's tip against the inside of your cheek and smacking it, making both of you moan from the sensation. ''Get on all fours and lift that ass up like a good slut for me.''

Jaemin pulled his cock out of your mouth and you couldn't help but cough a little and swallow, feeling your throat dry. You stood up trembling and sniffling through your nose from the tears, hurrying to obey Jaemin. You slowly leaned over the bed, giving him a view from under your skirt as you position yourself, revealing that you were not wearing any underwear. Jaemin's breath catches when he realizes you're not wearing anything under your skirt, seeing your pussy glistening with moisture, swollen lips that you part with your fingers, moaning his name to provoke him.

"Jaemin, please, I need your cock filling me," you said, turning your head to look at him, resting your face on his pillow. You spreaded your legs to show him more of your dripping pussy, biting your lower lip and begging with your eyes. "I want you to fuck me full of your cum," you moaned, giving your clit little slaps, moving your hips to rub your fingers firmly against it.

You saw Jaemin's eyes darkening and you smile pleased internally, knowing you have him right where you want him. You loved the way he dominated and fucked you, but you also liked to play with him and provoke him; pulling his strings until you got what you wanted. The way he positioned himself behind you and kneaded your ass made you moan in need, a possessive feeling filling you up as you know he is yours, feeling so overwhelmed that you can't help but shudder when you feel the tip of his cock pushing into your entrance, driving himself into your pussy so deep that his balls hit your ass.

‘’Nana, you’re so big,’’ you cried in pleasure at the feeling of stretching and a bit of pain sting, your walls getting used to Jaemin's size as they throbbed around his cock, scratching the sheets with your hands. You clinged to them when Jaemin started fucking you hard and deep, both of you moaning like two animals in heat while his hands grip your waist tightly.

"Taking my cock so well, this pretty pussy is made just for me, right?" He gived your ass a smack, causing more of your moans, and Jaemin growled as he fucks you hard while rolling up your skirt, gripping the garment as he moved in and out of you quickly. "You’re never going to leave my side, always being filled up with my cock and cum," he breathed heavily, groaning hoarsely as he feels your pussy tighten at the sound, feeling out of control. ‘’You’re going to let me breed you like the good girl you are-’’

Your eyes filled with surprise when he said that, and your body reacted, your pussy getting wetter and liking the idea, a sensation of pleasure forming in your stomach that has you whimpering with need while Jaemin railed you hard and fast. ‘’Yes, Nana! I’ll let you—fill me up, please," you begbed, your mouth slightly open, drooling on his bed as he used you however he wanted, giving pleasure and excitement, whining with each thrust of his big cock inside you.

"Fuck, begging like the pretty little whore that you are- I'm gonna fill you up so much, angel," he promised while thrusting into you, feeling drops of sweat fill his nape. Jaemin slapped your ass again and grabbed the flesh of your cheeks, kneading them possessively and spreading them apart to see the small hole of your ass.

He lets a thread of saliva fall slowly onto him, surprising you with the sensation and making you whimper, looking at him with imploring eyes as Jaemin begins to slide his index finger over it in a caress, spreading his saliva on it. "I’m gonna fuck this tight hole next, fill it with cum too."

You moaned from the overwhelming sensations and nodded repeatedly, gasping and tightening around Jaemin's cock, feeling your climax approaching as he inserted the tip of his finger into your ass, making you gasp in surprise at the unexpected but welcome touch.

"Come on my cock my pretty slut, milk me," he ordered, and you could only moan, feeling a tremor in your legs and your core fill with heat and moisture, soaking Jaemin's cock with your slick. "Beg for my fucking cum."

‘’Jaemin, please! I want all your cum, breed me," you said breathlessly, moaning non-stop even as you cummed, a wave of pleasure hitting you and leaving you dazed as you enjoy it. You stretched your hand back, caressing Jaemin's stomach and looking at him again, smiling provocatively. "Fill me with your cum, I want it to drip from me for days, please-"

‘’Take it, it's all yours, angel, fucking take it," he moaned, finishing deep inside your pussy, making you whimper from the warm feeling of his semen filling you up. Jaemin clinged to you as he finishes and tried to catch his breath, staring intently as his cock buried in your pussy, coating your womb with his cum. He gave you a gentle thrust and you moaned from the sensitivity, a masculine satisfaction filling him as he continued moving, some remnants of his cum coming out of your entrance and being pushed back in with the tip of his cock. ‘’Shit, baby. This pussy is driving me crazy," he murmured as he continues playing with his semen, floating his cock between the folds of your pussy and then gathering the white liquid to push it back inside you again. ''Such a pretty hole, dripping with my cum.''

You made a small sound and let your body fall forward, closing your eyes with a happy sigh and a bit of tiredness. You moved you hand behind you, slipping it between your legs and gathering the remnants of semen in your pussy, spreading it slowly between your folds too while looking at Jaemin with lustful eyes and softly moaning. You swore Jaemin's pupils dilate and he lunged at you, kissing you hungrily while his fingers intertwine with yours, both slowly caressing your poor, used pussy until you sighed contentedly and looked at him mischievously afterward.

"Put the mask on, I want to ride Ghostface now."

You didn't know how your legs were able to, but you found a strength to leave the bed and go down to the kitchen while the party continued and Jaemin followed after you, both hungry and thirsty after fucking two times non-stop. Your angel wings were long gone, and thankfully Jaemin didn’t tear any of your clothes this time, so you were presentable. It was way past midnight and the Halloween party was peaking, not noticing anyone you knew, not even your friends when you passed the living room scanning the people dancing. Jaemin was leading you by holding your hand, put you let it go when someone pushes with force against your body, making you move back.

‘’What's up, pumpkin?’’ Johnny smiled at you, you noticed first thing he was not wearing a costume. ‘’Are you enjoying the party?’’

‘’We do, man,’’ Jaemin answered for you, putting his arm to your shoulders. ‘’Are you going to the woods?’’

‘’Yeah, are you two coming? We’re having another bonfire, this time it's beer, tho. I haven’t had the time to refill my wine cellar,’’ the tall man said, winking at you as he murmured your name. ‘’You’re coming too, right? You know our leader won’t come if you aren’t there.’’

‘’Of course she’s coming, right baby?’’ Jaemin smiled at you, kissing your temple. You looked at him strangely because that wasn't your usual routine. You two were the cuddling type, so after having sex both will laid in bed for hours, just making up and chilling. Going to another stupid bonfire wasn't part of that ritual, that was weird. ‘’It will be fun, you’ll see, angel.’’

You entered the same entrance in the forest where a few days ago burned the witch dummy, but this time there wasn't any garland of light illuminating the path. The wood looked dark and creepy, the full moon rising on the sky and you admired it for a moment. Johnny and Jaemin chatted about sports and you don’t really heard them, missing the bed you were in before.

As you three came closer to the forest’s clearing, you noticed there’s no bonfire, but light up torches in the Founder’s hands. You crossed your arms as you walked towards them, feeling the tension thickening as you came closer. You sided eye Jaemin, feeling kinda uneasy, none of the Founders- and your friends who were there too not talking or laughing or drinking, they just… stayed there, illuminated by the fire in the torches.

But as you were about to say something to Jaemin, his hands pushed you to the ground hard, making you gasp in pain and confusion. His hand grabbed your hair and yanked your hair, forcing your eyes to see the Founders coming close to you. ‘’Jaemin, what the fuck! Let go!’’

‘’You’re forbidden to speak, witch,’’ Donghyuck sayid, kicking the ground so dirt lands on your body. ‘’This is a trial by the council. Bring the witnesses, Mark.’’

Mark did as told, making a hand gesture to Jia and Yuna to come closer. They do, Jia looking shaken up and Yuna more composed, eyes shining at you with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What the fuck was going on?!

You intended to speak again, but as you about to you felt a jab of pain to your face, Johnny giving you a strong slap to your cheek that already leaves a mark behind.

‘’Shut up witch, you can’t speak,’’ he grunted and then looks at the girls. ‘’Tell what you told Chenle before.’’

‘’I saw her pinching her finger with a needle and didn't bleed,’’ Yuna is fast to accuse, staring at you in what appears to be fear, but you didn't buy it. ‘’And she- she didn't like Chenle, she said that she wishes he could go to hell, too.’’

‘’What!? What the fuck is going on, I never said-’’ A new wave off pain washed over your face, this time being for the hand of the named before. Chenle growled at you with so much hate- you actually feared him. You tried to catch Jaemin’s eyes, begging silently, but he didn't even looked at you, stare still on his friend.

‘’This is your witch trial, fucking demon. You really thought you could fuck with us? You think you scares us?’’ Chenle said, smiling at you in a mocking way, shaking his head. ‘’You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re got yourself into to.’’

‘’What are you talking about?! I’m not a fucking witch, have you all lost your minds?!’’ You yelled, terror filling your voice.

‘’She’s always strolling around trying to seduce men,’’ Jia said, and sended a quick look towards Jeno. ‘’J-jeno told me you always give him flirty eyes, even right after you come to town. Aren’t you ashamed? Being that young and taunting him with your short skirts?’’ She asked, voice filling with anger and jealousy, making you snort incredulously.

‘’Is this a fucking joke? What are you even on- I don’t even speak to Jeno,’’ you defended yourself confused by that accusation, watching your friend like they were crazy and you frown your eyebrows. ‘’Short- what? Jia, we had the same uniform,’’ you reminded her desperately, gripping Jaemin’s fingers in your head and trying to let go of your hair with a cry. ‘’Our skirts were the same length! We were sixteen! Are you even listening what you’re saying?’’

‘’So you don’t deny you tried to seduce him, right? I am a witness myself, knowing damn well you’re a little minx, showing your legs and tits in your tight outfits,’’ Donghyuck said, his eyes scanning your Halloween costume and you cursed under your breath.

‘’She always goes to the forest to study,’’ Yuna accused you before you could defend yourself again, ‘’but now I know she wasn't doing that. The night of the bonfire I saw her and Jaemin! She was naked and dancing in front of him, s-she was speaking in tongues,’’ her voice cracks, hugging herself and seeming like she's about to cry at any minute. ‘’She was bewitching him! Witch!’’

You stared at everybody completely in shock, they’re all lost their minds?! You felt a new pair of hands as Johnny grabbed you easily away from Jaemin and started dragging you across the ground to somewhere while you screamed and kicked until you were in front of what appeared to be the point where they burned the dummy witch last time. With a new stake.

‘’You were behind all the shit going down, the fire and the explosions,’’ this time Renjun accused you, coming next to you, giving you a disgusted look. ‘’You knew what happened to the original Founders and you did it to us too,’’ another slap landed on you, shocked that a quiet, cold Renjun could act like that. ‘’You made fun of us, thinking we won’t realize, don’t you? You give us nightmares and tried to fuck with your minds.’’

‘’Jaemin told us he found Mark’s Reverend cross in your room,’’ Doyoung seethes and you shaked your head, making him more furious. ‘’Stop lying, fucking witch!’’

‘’I don't! I didn't steal anything, I swear!’’ you cried confused and scared, trying to see Jaemin behind you. ‘’Nana, what’s all this?! Why did you said that?! It's a lie!’’

‘’Our leader would't lie or betray us, no matter how good your pussy is. He hates fucking, evil witches just like us,’’ Donghyuck defended his friend, voice proud. ‘’And we will clean our town of them, just like the founders did.’’

‘’This was his idea,’’ Johnny said, smiling at Jaemin. ‘’It wasn't difficult, right? You follow him around matter what. Did you had fun at the party, doll? I hope you enjoyed, it was your last time.’’

You stayed silent and freezed as you realize what’s happening. The accusations, the torches with fire, the stake- your eyes get bigger and your body trembled, realising you’re completely alone. No one knows you were in the woods, just Jaemin, the Founders and your friends. And none of them were gonna to help you, you thought starting to cry more desesperately.

‘’You are guilty of the crimes of witchcraft and the council has decided tonight you’ll burn for it.’’ Jaemin's voice filled your rigning ears, making you sob harder.

‘’Please, please! I’m not a fucking witch! You’re all insane!'’ You screamed in panic, your voice shaking while trying to convince someone. Your eyes found Yuna and Jia. ‘’Jia, please, help me. They’re gonna kill me, please make them stop,’’ you begged them, crying desperately.

Next to her was Yuna, porting the same sad face Jia wears, but none of them moved your way. Jia cried silently, staying still as she watched you beg. You shaked your head, realizing they chose their side and it was the Founders.

‘’Yuna, please! You said you will never let me alone, remember? W-when we met on my first day in h-highschool, you said you’d take care of me,’’ you reminded her, your voice tainted with not just fear, but sadness and a boiling rage filling your chest.

‘’Shut up!,’’ Mark groaned, pushing you to the ground with a kick to your back. You landed fist face and felt seconds after the blood coming from your nose and mouth, slip lip. ’’Dont speak to them, witch.’’

You saw Jaemin standing a little behind and you cry in anger, immobilized to the ground while Marks tided your wrists tightly and you sobbed, thinking about your night Jaemin back at the NCT frat. How you two kissed and fucked, until you two were just one body.

‘’How could you do this to me, Jaemin? Please, help me, please-’’ you begged once again, voice cracking with fear and closing your eyes when another sob tembled in your chest. ‘’Please, I’m not a witch!’’

Your sobs and desperate cries for help echoed through the forest without receiving a response, your cheeks soaked with tears that run your mascara. You lowered your head to avoid seeing Chenle starting pouring gasoline on the bonfire, hiding your eyes behind your hair like a curtain. A few moments passed and your crying morphed into small laughs that interruped your sobs, until you were laughing hysterically, throwing your head back and looking at the full moon that illuminated the night.

A breeze stared to sweep through the forest, growing stronger with each passing second, making the treetops and the flames of the torches shake violently to the rhythm of your crying. Mark, who were behind you, begins to stepped back and hold the cross around his neck, looking at the others who also tense up with your laughter, glancing at each other with distrust.

The scared and tearful girl was someone completely different, watching them with a maniacal smile as you slowly straighten up, sitting on your heels, and letting out a chuckle at the surprise on their faces.

You looked completely insane, with your bloody face and the fear erased from you, a pleased, mocking grin in your lips. ‘’Well, well. Aren't you guys a couple of damn good detectives,'' you laughed, tilting your head to the side. ''It must run in the blood, right?''

They all react differently, Yuna and Jia being actually gasping in a mix of shock and fear. Chenle and Doyoung looked like they wanna chop your head off at any minute, Johnny, Jeno and Renjun were porting similar stances, tense and looking cautious. Donghyuck, on the other hand, seemed conflicted and a little bit scared, just like Mark, who you listened was praying with his voice low.

But Jaemin…he just stared at you with an empty face. It’s like he was wearing a mask. No emotions, not the pretty glow in his eyes or his enchanting smile, no fear of hate radding off his body. He just… looked at you with the most blank face, making your heart twist with anguish at his disinterest.

"Witch," Doyoung spited through clenched teeth, his hand trembling with fury as he holded his torch. "You’re a liar and a sinner, and you’ll burn in hell for it."

‘’Me? I’m the one going to hell? Dodo,’’ you responded in a teasing tone, laughing to yourself, ’’you don’t think you’re going too? Or at least to prison, this looks like a group murder attempt to me. But I think we should ask the expert, where’s the future lawyer? What do you think, Junnie?’’

‘’Shut the fuck up, evil demon,’’ Renjun said in the iciest tone you’ve ever heard from him.

You pouted squinting your eyes at him. '’Sheesh, I just wanted free legal counseling, is that a sin?’’ You joked, laughing again when they stayed silent, letting out a surprised yelp when someone grabbed your tied arms from behind and lifted you up, dragging you to the stake. You turned your head to see Mark and you grinned at him. ’’Oh, the pastor’s son! Wait, are we having a moment just us or something? How does this actually go? I wanna confess, Father, let me confess!’’

You felt this body tensing at your mockery tone while you tried to shake his hands off you, fighting against him. Chenle joined in and grabbed your hair in his fist, throwing your head back with painful force until his face meets yours.

He slapped you with the fame force as before, done with your little jokes. ‘’Who are you? Why’d you came to this town?’’

You whimpered from the pain and licked your dry and hurt lips, tasting the new blood decorating them. ‘’Sarah,’’ you explained with a sigh, ‘’me and my mom- we have a coven. I'm connected to her, she’s my guide. She started appearing in my dreams, showing me everything,’’ you growled now, all the teasing and laughter gone from you. Your body shuddered with pure, red rage that made your veins and heart burn with anger. ‘’How the town treat them, how they tortured and her sisters too, how they… they took everything from them until the were nothing.’’

You let out some honest tears, and you didn't knew if they were yours or hers. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about all the violent scenes you’ve seen from years and years in your dreams. How the coven were betrayed by friends, blind by envy and jealousy. How they spend nights fearing for what’s next to come, who will be taken for tests or just tortured in the name of God. The way they burned her house and stole her animals, how they sent the youngest to her death by throwing into the deep waters with her ankles tied with rocks and watched how she drowned- and the way the people breathed in relief, knowing the town was being cleaned and guided by the lovable founders.

They weren’t just girls. They were poor souls, of course, and the Reverend reminded the people that they have to have mercy in their heart while praying for them, because the girls were tainted and marked by the Devil’s touch.

The same girls that helped the town in the best way they could, providing the pregnant woman special medicine to help their discomfort and even taking their late mom's place and help deliver some healthy babies. The same girls who gave milk and butter to the ones who didn’t get a good harvest before winter. The same girls that after a long day of work played like kids in the forest together, picking up flowers and singing to the moon.

None of that mattered. Everybody turned their backs on them.

The women accused them of seducing their sons, dancing provocatively and naked in the woods, having many testimonies about it. Their friends envying the way the girls will catch the attention with their beauty and the sound of their laugh, the way the Major will look at Sarah with so much desire. The men resented her and her sisters and the way the girls lived alone and unmarried, like they weren’t dignified enough to take their hand and bless the town with more members. Even more scandalous, doing men's work like taking care of the farm by themselves, why did the girls have more land than them? Why did the sisters ignore them and their advances?

And the Reverend… oh, how he loved it. The way they all listened to his sermons, how they believed his words, the direct voice of God coming off him. He was the salvation personificated, taking his precious town into the blessed gates of heaven. That power was so intoxicating. And when the accusations started coming in, he was just ecstatic. He was taking care of the town, he kept to remind himself with satisfaction even his thoughts were interrupted everytime the girls would scream nonstop at the torture room.

‘’They were evil beings, just like you-’’ Jeno said in a venomous way with his hands pressed tight in fists. ’’Playing games like you do, doing witchcraft and tarnishing the city with it.’’

‘’They were not! The town- they betrayed them! Just because you don’t understand what they did it doesn't mean they were evil,’’ you screamed, fighting again against Chenle and Mark with fierceness, not caring if you could get hit again, ’’and all of you are just like them, the mighty Founders,’’ you spited, ‘’fuck you!’’

‘’Shup the up fuck,’’ Johnny growled, coming to you and slaping you with force. ‘’You tried to curse this town again, just like Sarah. You bright harm to us, remember?’’

‘’I just gave you guys the real evil witch the town wanted for so long and I had fun doing it. But the final will be different this time.’’

You saw red, feeling so angry and hysterical, you couldn’t believe that after all this time, after centuries… they were still here. The judge, the banker, the notary and the commissioner, the medic and the reverend- even the major… They were still here, in the form of Renjun, Donghyuck, Doyoung, Jeno, Johnny, Mark and Jaemin. Even the accusers, who looked just like Yuna and Jia.

But I’m here too, you thought, trying to comfort yourself.

"All of you are just like them," you said with venom, looking at each and every one of them, ‘’believing yourself to be better, thinking of taking a life as if it’s nothing. The witches did nothing wrong, why was it a crime to appreciate nature and its gifts? But the council didn't care, did they? They locked them up, tortured them, and then staged that... fake trial, when they already knew what they were going to do with them.’’

Chenle and Mark tied you to the stake by the wrist, so tight it cuts your blood circulation. They all rounded the bonfire, the smell of gasoline filling your nose after Johnny wet the big wooden sticks placed on top of another and straw too. Their hot torches didn't come down yet, since they were waiting for their leader's signal, just like they always did.

‘’Some last words?’’ Jaemin asked next to your ear, soft lips tracing the side of your neck and his hands caressing your arms for what you think it’s a goodbye.

‘’I love you,’’ you felt his hand grabbing the restraints on your wrist and the cold edge of a razor against your skin there. You sensed the warmth of the fire from the torches coming close to you, ready to burn you when the leader says so. You turned your face to the side, wanting to see him as you whisper your words to him. ’’Jaemin, I love you.’’

‘’I love you too, my pretty witch,’’ he whispered, cutting the rope and taking a step back, freeing you. He turned around and collides against Chenle, who saw the whole thing and was rushing to the stake to stop it. With no words, Jaemin lifted his hand and in a fast and unexpected move he cutted the Founder's throat, slicing it open.

Everything happend so fast at the same time.

Chenle started coughing and splashing blood everywhere as he fell to the ground, the majority of the red liquid landing in Jaemin while Yuna and Jia screamed. Jeno lunged for the leader’s body tackling him as Mark and Johnny were in shock, Mark actually letting go of his torch on the ground to cover his mouth drowning the scream that comes out of it. Renjuns runned to his dying friend, trying to apply pressure on the wound on but it’s impossible, the blood coming too fast outta the sliced throat. Donghyuck followed Renjun, throwing his torch without a thought as he rushed to help his friends, turning hysterical.

No one payed attention to you for a moment, or how you moved your fingers in the dirt, making symbols as you sing softly but hurrying, the familiar warmth of power coming to your body. You digged your fingers into the ground and sing more fierceling, casting a powerful, dark spell until your eyes turned black. When Doyoung realiced what you were doing it’s too late, not able to took a few steps towards you when his body is suddenly freezing and his hand covers his aching throat in pain, gasping for air.

Everybody else follows, feeling their throats closing as if somebody was choking them with so much force, making their faces red and desperate right away. They tried to fight it but it was impossible, the invisible touch squeezing so hard until they start losing consciousness and some noses bleed, eyes coming out of their sockets, hands falling just like their bodies.

Your nose bleeded too from the power you’re using, body shaking but unable to stop, feeling deep inside you an intense satisfaction as you saw how the Founders were dying slowly, just like the seven sisters died so long ago; suffering. The muffled sounds of the Founders started to fade- even Chenle, who took his last breath.

Your body lied on the ground after everything comes to an end, trying to breath and feeling so exhausted. The whole thing leaved you completely weak in a way you never felt before, but then again, you never used your magic to something like this before. You were powerful, but this was a different type of magic that took almost too much energy- but you could swear you felt them, your past coven members inside you and of course, Sarah. In the middle of feeling completely drained you also felt a peace that warmed your heart. You suspected it was her.

While you blinked hard trying not to go into unconsciousness, for a second you throughout you saw the witches running through the trees of the dark forest with their hands intertwined, a distant chorus of laughter dying in the wind until the place was silent again. You didn’t bother to look around to see the bodies of the Founders and of your two friends, dead too.

You heared footsteps rapidly coming your way and the next thing you knew Jaemin was taking you in his arms, eyes darkening with worry and desperate searching your face and body for injuries, afraid for the first time in the whole night when he saw how hard you fell to the ground and stayed still for the most fucking long moments of his life.

‘’Fuck, baby,’’ he breathed, hugging you tightly against his body, shaking just like you, ‘’you scared the shit outta me.’’ Jaemin closed his eyes and inhaled in your neck, needing to feel your perfume in a mad manner. ‘’I thought you were really hurt- fuck.’’

You smiled, feeling a little pain on your face from the blows you took before, now dried blood stains decorating your skin. ‘’I’m okay, Nana,’’ you said, leaning backwards so you can see his face, ‘’I’m just- I feel so tired.’’

Jaemin hissed seeing the blood and some parts of your pretty face darkened in red- no doubt there will be bruises tomorrow. His face was beated too, taking some hard punches from Jeno as they were fighting before.

‘’Shit-’’ he started, tensed jaw and voice full of disgust, stopping himself as the leader felt guilt rushing to his heart seeing you hurt. ‘’Baby, I’m so sorry. I take it too far?’’ He questioned, frowning.

‘’I’m okay,’’ you repeated, kissing him gently on the lips. Your boyfriend kisses you in the same way, raising his hands to your face and holding it so softly and careful- it melts your heart. You tasted some blood too, noticing the splatter of it in Jaemin’s face and clothes when you separate a little bit, your movements slowed as you feel totally drained of energy. ‘’You did so well, Nana. It had to look real, remember?’’

Jaemin kissed you again, his thumb caressing your cheek. ‘’You looked so fucking hot back there,’’ he admited with a evil smirk.

‘’Jaemin, please! What the hell, stop!’’ you laughed incredibly scandalized at his words, a little bit ironic knowing what you just did, killing in revenge a bunch of people.

‘’What?’’ he laughed, that pretty, full of millions of white perfect teeth showing, ‘’I can’t adore my pretty witch?’’ He calmed a little, still smiling but now more like the lover you know, dark eyes sparking at you. ‘’I'm sorry for pushing you early-’’

‘’Nana, it has to be done, we plan it to be as real as possible. They couldn't suspect you,’’ you repeated one again, smiling to calm him down.

‘’I know but, shit,’’ he sighed, still sensing a little bit of stress rushing, ‘’I can’t ever see you hurt again like that, you understand?’’

‘’Okay,’’ you promised easily because it was true, wanting nothing more than a peaceful life with Jaemin. This time you kissed him, and you shivered with cold and excitement.

You were walking down the road with Jaemin, glued to his side, still feeling weak and exhausted, wishing for two or three days to spend only sleeping, so tired. You felt like passing out at any moment again, but you refused to let Jaemin carry you, who has already done so much for you tonight, besides taking a beating.

Jaemin let you, looking at you and knowing full well that you would end up in his arms in no time. Luckily there don't seemed to be any around, either sleeping or partying, as the night isn't over yet; but you and Jaemin don't stand up suspiciously anyway, your bloodied and beaten figures looking like a fucked up zombie couple costumes or something.

''Thank you,'' you said out of the blue, looking at your boyfriend, ''for everything, tonight. I meant it, Jaemin.''

Jaemin stopped and so do you, you were unable to help the smile on your face as he kissed you tenderly, taking special care with your wounded lips. You felt his arms around you pulling you closer to his body and you melt back into his chest.

‘'There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, baby,'' he said, beaming at you as he nuzzled your bruised cheek adoringly. '’I knew it from the first time I saw you at school, my cute witch. The girl of my dreams, literally.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling a little embarrassed thinking about the young you, still baby face and everything, pretty different from how you looked now. Jaemin told you once that he dreamed about you for years, seeing you between the rising flames of Sarah’s burning and calling for him.

‘’I will never forget that day,’’ Jaemin muttered. ‘’It felt like my heart recognised yours, angel. You were finally with me after so much time, it felt so right.’’

You felt your eyes well up with hot, thick, love-filled tears that threaten to escape and Jaemin wiped them away with his thumb when they do, smiling at you. “I would do anything for you too, Nana. I just love you so much,” you whispered to his lips, “so damn much.’’

''I love you, my pretty witch,'' Jaemin said as he gives you a small kiss, a sealed promise. ''This time I will never let you go.’’

#na jaemin x reader #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #jaemin smut #wicked season series

203 notes · View notes

crescenthistory · 28 days ago

Note

hey how are youu? I’m new here and I’m completely in love with your work especially with the Barty’s ones! I wanted to request the prompt c 11 (you are okay) with the 4 (near death experience) and if you could make it like part of the series of where they bicker all the time it would be perfect! Anyways I really enjoy your writing and I love how you portray my man Barty🤍🫶🏼

hi there lovey! thank you so much for being here and for your sweet words<33 i combined this request with another i received, i hope that is okay

other request: i headcanon barty as a person who has attachment issues (on the ambivalent side), in the way he loves too much his friends and lovers but at the same time is afraid of intimacy bc he also struggles with showing affection in a non sexual way. so my idea is that (gn)reader and barty have an argument because of their insecurities about trust and commitment, but AFTER they've been avoiding the conversation for too long. it could end very much extremely bad or very good.

you can find the other fics for this specific au here and here

Prompts: C.11 "You're okay, you're okay" & 4. Near Death Experience

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, gn!reader (no pronouns used), use of y/n, reader and barty both have mental breakdowns/spirals, attachment issues, miscommunication, "oh shit! love is scary but i do love you so what now" moments, near-fall on the ice, potions accident, choking in a non-sexual way, infirmary, language, talk of death, injured!reader, heavy hurt but heavy comfort, happy ending

this isn't fun anymore

Your relationship with Barty thus far had been interesting to say the least.

After endless bickering led to an impromptu kiss to shut him up in the library, which in turn led to a heavy make-out session in a nearby cot, which led to a “how does it feel to be my girlfriend?” “I wouldn’t know” “do you want to?” “sure” conversation in the Slytherin common room, you somehow wound up being in an established, committed relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior.

To your friends’ flabbergasted shock, and, quite frankly, your own surprise.

Even more surprisingly so, you loved it – which scared you to no end.

As the weeks began to stretch into months, you felt as if you were losing your footing more and more in your dynamic. What was once flirtatious and intense has now become almost intimate and close. It stills you in your movements as you try and find your bearing.

Who are you to Barty when you are not in the mood to quip? Or even talk at all? Who is Barty to you when you allow him to just be Barty and not sparring-partner Junior?

All good questions to ask oneself, but not as productive to spiral over as you walk with him from Hogsmeade, a little stretch behind your boisterous friends.

There are two reasons for this. One is that Barty has somehow learned to read your emotions fairly well despite your inability to communicate them effectively, and he is now scrutinising your distracted facial expressions. Second, and perhaps most importantly, is that it is winter in Scotland.

In your distracting spiral, you step on a snow that covered a perfectly polished sliver of ice, and your foot slips out from underneath you.

You barely managed to squeak out a shriek, scrambling to retract your hand from Barty’s to catch you as you fall, before one of his hands is around your waist and the other on the back of your neck, stabilising your neck. His wild eyes stare into yours, mild panic seeping away to make place for a wicked grin.

“Careful, Treasure. Falling for me already?”

You roll your eyes before you let out a breath of relief, hands clutching onto his form as he is still holding you up in his grasp.

“You wish, Junior,” you scoff at him, albeit with a smile.

“Every night, on every star.”

You let him place you onto your legs, arm circling around your waist as a remaining layer of protection. You shiver, brushing off imaginary pieces of snow from the fall that did not occur. In front of you, your shared friends had stopped upon hearing you yell.

“Y/N, you good?” Lily called, concern etched onto her face.

At the same time, Sirius, ever the supportive friend, yelled, “Did Barty finally kill you?”

“Oh yes, Big Black, I am incredibly dead,” you yell back as Barty roll his eyes at you both and mutters something about on the contrary.

Regulus, in turn, says something you can’t quite catch over the distance, but you suppose it has something to do with your nickname for Sirius and its insinuations. Little Black did not enjoy being referred to as such.

The group waits up for the two of you to catch up, Barty enjoying taking his time with a lazy stroll.

“You mind picking up the pace, Junior?” Sirius grumbles.

Unfortunately, that only further encourages Barty. “Why would I? Got a pretty damsel in distress on my arm and all the time in the world.”

You try and rip out of his arms at that, feigning offence at him, but he only holds you tighter. “How dare you. I am neither a damsel nor in distress–”

He cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips. “You are pretty though. Sorry, Treasure, had to shut the sod up somehow.”

You turn your head away from him with a shake, trying your hardest not to blush at his words or his actions. You bully Regulus too much for his blushing to commit such atrocities yourself. “Whatever you say, Junior, but you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“You don’t even live together,” Remus comments amusedly.

“Doesn’t matter; the sentiment still stands.”

James and Remus shake their heads at the two of you, while Sirius and Lily nod solemnly in support of you. The whole lot begins walking back the short distance to the castle.

Barty makes a comment of some sort to Regulus that both Black brothers and James quip back at, which starts another tireless spat. You are too zoned out to care what they are bickering about today, disappearing back into your thoughts recklessly, despite the dire consequences from last time.

Attachment issues was such a loaded term, you thought, and you didn’t like to think of yourself like that. Yet the fact remained that the longer you and Barty spent together, the more a part of your brain begins dry heaving and screaming. What began as pure fun, tingles along your spine at every back-and-forth, is becoming realer by the minute, and it terrifies you. Not because you cannot stand a relationship or fear being bound down – because you are starting to care for him. Genuinely, wholly, in a way that aches. You have always been one to shy away from emotional aches, and the fact that you now have to decide whether to withstand it or throw it away for another type of pain makes you lightheaded.

With his arm so securely around yours, with his laughter in your ear, you feel right. You feel content and whole. Why should that make sirens go off in your head?

Most of the time you spend with Barty is with others around, where you can’t fully access your emotions. In the Great Hall, if you eat by yourselves, everyone else is still there, when you walk the hallways or the grounds, there are always students and professors around. Even when you visit his dorm, which is becoming more frequent by the second, Evan and Regulus usually aren’t far. You almost wanted to keep it this way, ensure that Barty only sees the fun and open side of you, keeping everything else under lock and key. You almost avoid him when you are able to be alone just the two of you, because the implications are too vast for you to face them.

He has to know. He has to have seen. Have noticed that you keep pushing one front of you towards him and shielding the rest – and it seems like he enjoys that one, but at some point he must want more. Could you give it to him?

“Okay, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Barty’s whisper cuts through your thoughts as you step through the entrances to the castle, once more slightly secluded at the back of the group.

You merely hum in response, trying to pull yourself out of your spiral to look at him.

“C’mon, Treasure.” His drawl is teasing, but his eyes seem darker than usual. “You have never gone this long without insulting me somehow. What's up?”

“Maybe you’ve just been on your best behaviour today,” you say conspiratorially, putting on your mask expertly. “Haven’t needed to.”

“Now see, that is simply empirically wrong,” Barty guffaws at you. “Did you hear what I said to Reg earlier?” His raised eyebrow is giving you a silent cut the crap that you aren’t ready to face.

“I’ll be honest with you; I did not.” You look away, pulling your jacket further around you. “I’m just mentally preparing for Potions and Slughorn tomorrow, he said we should expect something big.”

“Should I be concerned that lying comes that easily to my girlfriend?” Barty asks, making you whip your head back to him. He is still teasing, but you really, really don’t like the look in his eyes.

“Should I be concerned that my boyfriend can’t take the hint to let something be?” You didn’t think about the words before you let them tumble, instantly getting defensive.

“No,” Barty says, stopping you with the hand on your waist, looking directly at you. “‘Cause I’m just checking on you when something is clearly wrong.”

“Since when do you check on me?” you say, realising your voice is uncomfortably close to a snarl. Barty does, too.

“Since you decided to take me up on my relentless flirting and enter into a relationship with me. You know, the kind where people care for and look after each other? Or is that not us?”

You stare at him for a second, as it uncomfortably settles into your bones that the odd look in his eyes is hurt. Confusion, concern and hurt. You’re at a loss for words.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” you settle on, feeling dumb but stubborn.

Barty nods, looking away at last, small frown over his lips. “Well. Let me know when you do. Or don’t, you know, it’s whatever.”

He walks away from you, leaving you to stand alone, looking after him. If your friends realised you’re gone, they have likely assumed that the two of you are in some hallway together making-out. No one would come check up on you.

You trek back and sit down, just outside the entrance to the castle, trying to understand what just happened. Sliding down the wall, you watch as new snow begins to fall, large wet chunks flying through the air. You let them symbolically represent your tears as you keep bottling it all up.

That night, you go to your dorm in silence, telling yourself you’re thankful not to see Barty on the way there. You fall asleep watching the door.

Truth is, you had also been stressed out regarding Slughorn’s Potions class for the day after. As you wake and get ready, anxiety rages through your body for more reasons than one. He had been teasing the class for weeks, saying that you would be brewing some dangerous, difficult potion, allowed into the curriculum as a one-time exception for him.

Technically, this would have been no problem, however you are currently paired with McLaggen in Potions. The biggest twat I have ever seen, as Barty described him. While you didn’t have as intense feelings about him, you knew one thing for certain: the boy was absolute shit at potions.

The kind of awful that you really don’t want to be paired with for some exotic and dangerous potion.

Potions was one of the few classes you and Barty had together as your subject selections were relatively different. He would always walk you from your dorm, first class in the morning, soaking up every minute with you. Some of your best banter came from Potions class, often at McLaggen’s expense, for better or worse.

When you opened your door, you were not entirely sure what to expect.

What you found, certainly was not it, though.

“Regulus, what– what are you doing here?”

Regulus looked incredibly sheepish where he stood, weight leaned on one of his hips as one hand scratched the back of his neck. The other held something in it that you couldn’t quite detect as you took the awkward scene of him in.

“I, uh,” he starts, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “Barty said he couldn’t walk you today, but wanted to give you something for, um, your anxiety? About the class? Or something like that. Anyway, here.”

The tips of his ears were burning red at the humiliation of being caught in the middle of whatever this was. He reached out his hand and opened it to reveal a small potions bottle – ironic – with some purple liquid inside.

“What is it?” you asked, taking it tentatively and turning it over in your hands.

“It’s meant to make you calm down and relax– not that I think you need to do that, just, Barty wanted to give it to you.” Regulus winces at his own inelegance. “I got some from James the other week, he apparently has a bunch stacked up in his dorm with the boys, for God knows what reason. Barty asked for one for you. So, here we are.”

“I don’t really know what to say,” you trail off, looking between the potion and Regulus. “Thanks?”

“I, uh, will tell him that then–”

“Gods, no,” you cut him off. “Don’t tell him that, he wouldn’t appreciate it.”

As you seem to be thinking over a response, Regulus adds: “If it makes a difference, he said something to me about giving it to you on the off-chance that he was wrong and a massive wanker.”

You chuckle at that. “Well, he’s always a massive wanker,” you joke on reflex. “But you don’t need to act as an owl, Reg, I’ll thank him myself. And thank you for the potion.”

Regulus seems to let out a breath of relief at that, smiling a bit more comfortably at last. “Great, well, I’ll see you around I guess.”

You smile curtly and give him a quick nod before seeing him all but run off.

Once he’s gone, you drink the potion and the effects are instantaneous. Your shoulders seem to loosen in places you didn’t know they were wound up, your breathing regulates and your heartbeat slows. A little too late, you mull over that this was James’s potion, and you probably should have been careful, given his track record in class. Nevertheless, the potion seems legitimate.

With a bit more breath in your lungs, you walk off to class, alone.

Barty could not make up his mind on whether to drag his gaze away from you when it instantly gravitated towards you, or if he could let it linger.

The feelings warring in his chest felt impossible to map out. On the one hand, you had snapped at him when he tried to help, which was shitty – on the other, he still didn’t know what he was trying to help with or what compelled you to snap at him. What you were going through. Which honestly is on you, he thought, wincing at his own frustrations.

He was not one to dwell on small spats, but this was entirely unfamiliar territory to him. Barty didn’t do relationships, at least he didn’t think so before you came in like a freight train consuming his being. It was fun to finally have someone properly challenge him and do so with a beautiful smile on their face – the perfect situation for him. It was fun, until his heart began to hurt when you weren’t near, until it was your laugh that ran through his head, guiding him away from a spiral. Until he realised he was not just down bad for you as Dorcas teased, he was something much, much worse.

And he had no idea how to handle it.

His infatuation with you was all-encompassing, a burning passion and loyalty that characterised having Barty’s affection. He knew it, as did all his friends, but when it is with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it. With a friend, he could snog, even shag, them at a random party and it wouldn’t matter for either of them. With you, that first kiss, first anything, was so much more important. With a friend, if he pissed them off enough, they would just cool off without him for a while and then the slate was clear. With you – he had no idea what he would do if you disappeared. Would you come back? He was acutely aware that this was a dynamic he didn’t know how to explore.

Now, it seemed like you needed his support, but wouldn’t accept it. Didn’t want him near it.

He had to respect that, he thought to himself. So, he did his best to tear his gaze away and leave you be.

With the amount of times your eyes met, he knew he wasn’t being successful. He paid no mind to the fact that you did not avert your eyes, either.

His feet were tapping relentlessly on the ground, his eyes flicking all over the Potions classroom to keep them from you. Barty was losing his fucking mind and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Mate,” Evan cuts off his distracted mental monologue that Barty himself couldn’t really make sense of. “Would you bloody cut it off? I’m trying to not kill us here.”

Barty does not dignify him with a response, but tries to calm his skittishness, albeit not overly successfully. He zeroes in on Slughorn and his peculiar facial expressions as he, a bit too excitedly for 8 in the morning, continues his explanation.

Something about a healing potion that is so particular that if brewed even slightly wrong, it becomes one of the most effective poisons in the world. Something about corrosive to the touch. Something about bezoars healing.

Barty settles his gaze on the bowl of bezoars Slughorn had on his desk, just in case, with a bad feeling in his stomach. He wondered if you felt the same.

As the pairs set to attempt the feat of making the potion correctly, Barty’s eyes drifted back to you, happy to leave the work to Evan – who in turn was happy to work in the silence without his constant chatter.

Your shoulders were relaxed, though your brows were furrowed together as you reread the instructions for the thousandth time. He wondered if you had taken the potion he sent to you with Regulus, he wondered if it helped you. While he knew in his bones you were lying about it being what bothered you, he still could never be too sure. He wanted you to feel safe, whichever way he could ensure it.

He knows what that’s called, which is why he is freaking out so to speak.

You kept shooting dirty looks at McLaggen whenever he tried to help, keeping him at arm’s length from the potion, fueling the boy’s frustrations. Barty was quite certain he had seen you threaten him with your wand at one point when he tried to stir the potion. He couldn’t blame you.

McLaggen, as incompetent as ever, was trying to make himself useful by reading the instructions aloud to you, though his exaggerated enunciation was more distracting than helpful. Barty withholds a snicker as he can tell you are silently begging him to shut up. The frustration on your face was palpable, the tension between you and your partner practically humming in the air. McLaggen, ever oblivious, didn’t take the hint.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to–?”

“I’m sure,” you snapped, not looking up from the cauldron.

From across the room, you felt Barty’s eyes on you again. His gaze had become a constant presence, burning into your skin. Even when you weren't looking at him, you could feel him there, lingering, watching, waiting. It was maddening, but also strangely comforting. You knew you had to talk together soon, but you still had no idea how to communicate your feelings, if you even dared to.

You had to snap yourself back into it to remain in control of your little situation at hand.

McLaggen, frustrated by being sidelined, huffed and crossed his arms. “It’s just stirring! How hard could it be?”

“Apparently, harder than you think,” you muttered, casting him a side-eye. The potion was already starting to smell off, and you knew he had messed it up.

McLaggen’s face flushed in embarrassment, and before you could stop him, he reached for the ladle, his ego clearly bruised.

"I'll show you–"

“Wait–”

It happened in a blur. His hand snuck past yours, clumsy and wild. It knocked against the cauldron’s edge, sending it tipping over. The thick, boiling liquid surged out, splashing across the table – and onto your leg.

The pain was instant, white-hot and searing, like your skin was being eaten alive. You screamed, recoiling as the potion sizzled straight through your pant leg, immediately finding flesh.

The room seemed to freeze for a moment, everyone turning to see what had happened. The smell of burning skin filled the air as you stumbled back, falling over your increasingly immobile leg, eyes wide with shock and pain.

The world around disappeared from you as you were consumed by the burning, not even able to hear your gasps of pain.

For that moment, no one did anything.

No one but Barty – Barty moved.

Without hesitation, without thought, he lunged across the room. He grabbed the entire bowl of bezoars, eyes never leaving you. His body collided with McLaggen, shoving him aside with a force that sent the boy slamming into the wall behind, just barely avoiding the poison himself. Barty didn’t even glance at him; his focus was solely on you.

Somewhere in the back Slughorn made a sound of shock and disappointment that Barty blocked out.

He dropped down beside you, taking your shaking upper body in his arms. "You're okay, you're okay," he muttered in your ear, as he cradled your jaw with one hand and opened your mouth with another. With two quick, precise fingers he shoved the bezoar as far down your throat as he could, arm circled securely around your waist for when your body convulsed in response to the intrusion. "You're okay, I've got you," he continued to mumble, as if to himself this time, as he looked at you frantically.

Your body's trembling and your small gasps of pain faded, but your leg was still searing painfully and you still looked completely out of it.

Barty’s heart lurched – he had never seen you like this. Never seen you so vulnerable, so hurt.

“Barty–” you gasped, your voice breaking in panic.

The classroom had erupted into chaos around you – students scrambling away from the spill, Slughorn’s booming voice calling for calm. In it all, Barty's eyes kept looking you over, almost like he was itching to give you another bezoar just in case.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, quieter this time, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the pain subsiding slowly. Barty's hands remained around you, grounding you essentially in his lap, keeping you tethered to the moment.

“Someone fetch Madam Pomfrey!” Slughorn’s booming voice cut through the heavy air as he rushed over, his face pale with panic. “Quickly now! That potion– oh dear–"

McLaggen stood behind him, mouth agape in shock and horror as almost all other students had lined up by the walls, putting distance between themselves and the potion. Everyone except Evan, who remained by his desk, grip tight on the wood as he looked in horror and concern.

Barty ignored him. He ignored everyone. His only focus was you – your shallow breathing, your wide, panicked eyes. He didn’t even realise that his hands were shaking until you whimpered softly, and he felt his control slipping further.

“I’m taking her to the infirmary,” Barty said through gritted teeth, not waiting for permission.

Barty scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stood. The weight of you felt so fragile, so wrong. You were supposed to be strong, biting back with sharp quips and rolling your eyes at his antics. Not this. Not in pain and trembling in his arms.

“Now, now, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey can come here–”

“No,” Barty said, his voice dark and dangerous, leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking her.”

“Mr. Crouch– wait! We should–” Slughorn tried again, but Barty was already moving, carrying you through the rows of desks and out the door.

His steps were quick but measured, and you were too disoriented by the pain and the shock to protest. Your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“Hang on, Treasure,” he murmured, his voice rough and shaky. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be alright.”

You weren’t sure when you closed your eyes, but by the time you tried to open them again, you were in the infirmary.

Your mind was swimming through a haze of pain and exhaustion. The world felt heavy around you, like you were dragging yourself up through thick water. At first, you weren’t sure where you were – the sterile smell of potions and the soft rustling of sheets felt foreign, disconnected.

Then you shifted ever so slightly and the sharp sting in your leg brought it all crashing back.

The classroom. The potion. McLaggen’s bloody idiocy. The burning, searing pain as the liquid had spilled across your skin.

Barty.

Barty was sitting at your bedside, his usual composed demeanour shattered. His shoulders were hunched, his face tight with worry, and there was a wildness in his eyes that you had never seen before. The sight of him like that sent a pang of emotion through you, more potent than the lingering sting of the potion burn.

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry. “Barty…” Your voice came out in a cracked whisper.

His head jerked up, his eyes locking onto yours in an instant. For a second, the relief that washed over his face was so overwhelming that it almost broke you. He moved closer, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out for your hand, stopping just before touching you, as if he wasn’t sure if he should. If he could.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of how you were feeling. “Are you… does it hurt? Are you in pain?”

You blinked up at him, your mind still foggy as the events of the day came rushing back in fragments. You remembered the burning pain, the panic that had clawed at your chest, and – Barty. Barty holding you, his voice in your ear, telling you that you’d be okay.

And now here he was, sitting beside you, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you but holding back as if afraid he might break you further.

"I–" you tried, but your voice cut off, throat hoarse from the bezoar you were increasingly remembering. "I think I'm fine."

Barty just looked at you, still searching, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. What an unfortunate theme for the week.

“It’s… it’s not as bad now,” you managed, your voice hoarse. The burning in your arm was still there, a dull throb beneath the bandages, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. “What happened? After… I don’t know if I really remember…”

Barty swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain his composure. “Pomfrey patched you up. You passed out from the pain.” He paused, his voice thickening. “It was bad. You could’ve–”

He cut himself off, his fingers curling into fists as he looked away, his throat working visibly. “It was a close call, Treasure.”

At his words, you realise how hard you were fighting the tears, the bottle you keep your emotions in clearly shattered by your impact with the floor.

"I'm alright," you whispered, to which he just nodded, beautiful face stained by a frown. Yeah, yeah, you thought you could hear him mutter.

"Barty?" you called softly, hoping for his attentive eyes to be back on you – they were in an instant. "Thank you."

"I would do anything for you," he whispered. "I just need you to be alright. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "You did nothing wrong Barty. You– you did so good."

Barty leans his head on his fists curled up on your bedside. He was still slightly trembling. "I thought I lost you."

His words hit you like a physical blow. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the crack in his usually cool exterior, and it made your chest tighten with emotion. He wasn’t just worried – he had been terrified. You could see it in the way he refused to meet your eyes now, as if he was still trying to gather himself, still fighting the lingering fear.

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him like this, so undone, so vulnerable. It was strange when he was always the one so sure of himself, always the one in control. His usual composed mask had crumbled, leaving raw emotion exposed underneath. You wanted to kiss it better. You wanted to see more.

It was strange, you thought, lying there in the infirmary with a dull ache all throughout your body. Strange how, in moments like these, everything else – the fear, the confusion, the uncertainty – seemed to fall away. All that was left was Barty, his presence consuming every inch of your awareness.

"Barty..." you whispered again. When he looked up at you, his eyes were red-rimmed.

You simply turned your hand laying near his over. An open invitation.

He accepted it immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand so sweetly it hurt you.

"I thought–" you start, voice breaking from emotion this time. "When it happened, all I could think about was you. How sweet you are with me even when I'm terrible, how stupid it is to let my emotions get in the way of that. I didn't even get to say sorry to you and–" You take a deep breath. "I wanted to. I'm sorry, Barty."

He was shaking his head, cheek against your hand he was holding as it looked at you intensely. "Absolutely not. Apology accepted and then rejected. I don't want you to be sorry."

You try to interject, but he sits up, leaning on his elbow onto your bedside so you are at eye-level. "Nuh-uh. I won't allow it. Thank you, and I'm sorry too, but no."

"Will you at least accept the sentiment that I never meant to hurt you?" you whisper through a tired smile.

"Of course. I hurt myself. I was confused and scared and– shit, this feeling thing is so bloody hard for no reason." You laugh slightly at that, wincing when it pains you. "I hated feeling like we weren't a team."

"Me too," you whispered, not trusting your voice. "I didn't want to fight, I just find it so difficult to trust. That I can, I don't know, show you everything and not run. Because I don't know what to do with myself if you do."

Barty's grip on your hand tightened. "I won't. I swear to you, I won't. That's what scares the shit out of me. How ridiculously much I care about you. What am I to do with that?"

A few tears spilled down your cheeks before you could stop it. His hand instinctively shot forward to wipe them away, frown deepening.

"Can we be scared and confused together?" you asked weakly.

For the first time since you woke up, you saw a smile grace Barty's face, clouded only slightly by his teary eyes. "I reckon we can, Treasure. I– I just need you."

You closed your eyes, triggering the release of a few more tears.

"You'll never lose me," Barty continued, pressing his forehead back against your intertwined hands. "I swear. I don't care what fight we have or how unsure we are. You're the only person who–" He stopped, his breathing hitching as if the words were too heavy on his vocal chords. "I need you."

Your heart clenched painfully at the raw emotion in his voice. The cool, confident Barty you were used to wasn’t here right now. This was a Barty who was terrified and loving, who was stripped bare of all the usual bravado and snark. It made your chest ache in a way that was so full of feeling that it was almost overwhelming.

“I need you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes locking onto yours again. There was something so vulnerable, so intense in his gaze that it nearly stole your breath away. He leaned forward then, hesitating only for a moment before his lips brushed gently against your forehead, lingering there as if he was grounding himself in the feel of you, the reality that you were still here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against your skin. “I promise.”

For a moment, the weight of those words hung in the air, settling into the space between you. And despite the pain, despite everything that had happened, you felt a small flicker of warmth spark in your chest.

You brought your free hand up to the nape of his neck, guiding his lips from your forehead to your own, kissing him as softly as you could muster. His kiss was careful as he tried to pour as much emotion as possible. All the things you could not say yet, but cared for each other in spite of.

When you parted, you rested your foreheads together and you let out a shaky breath, your heart slowing as the adrenaline finally began to fade.

You opened your eyes to find Barty already looking at you with a slight smile – the look in his eyes was positively lovesick.

With the ease Barty's touch awarded you, you let out a half-choked laugh, relief expanding in your chest, which in turn widened his smile.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a teasing tone finally making it back into his voice.

"I'm just thinking about how ridiculous we are," you laughed, squeezing his hand. "And dramatic, Merlin's beard."

Barty huffed a laugh in return, shaking his head at you. "You knew what you were signing up for when you got with me. Theatrical is my middle name."

"Oh, so you admit it now, do you?"

"Only for you."

You gaze into his eyes and you realise – Barty is not the only one who is lovesick.

"Tell me now," you said, teasing tone finally back in your voice. It made Barty's heart soar, but not as much as your next sentence. "How did you trick me into falling in love with you, Junior?"

"I trick you? Love, I've been heads over heels for you since the first time you insulted me. You're the one who should fess up."

Barty's grin threatened to tear his skin apart as he shook his head.

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” He shifted closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made your heart stutter. “You’re impossible not to fall for.”

“Good,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Because I think you're stuck with me now.”

Barty leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back, his eyes were alight with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Stuck, huh?”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get cocky, Junior.”

“Too late, Treasure.”

“In that case," you started, trailing off as if you grew uncertain of yourself once more. Barty's hold on you remained steadfast. "Can you stay? Just stay here with me, until I'm dispatched?”

“I’m not leaving,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a steady, grounding rhythm. “I’ll stay as long as you want. You've got me.”

You felt yourself relax into the bed, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time in a long while, the tightness in your chest had eased. As your eyes fluttered closed, you heard Barty’s voice again, soft and filled with so much emotion that it made your heart ache all over again.

“Sleep well, my love."

254 notes · View notes

pannman · 1 month ago

Text

Something New

Alastor x GN!Reader

Kinktober 1: biting

Tw: Fluff, biting, Dom and sub dynamics, tentacles, dry humping, mentions of oral

Alastor had always been a perfect gentleman. Even though he was rarely horny himself he was happy to indulge you when he wasn't in the mood sometimes. His ruts could get extra rough and he tended to get really possessive and clingy around that time so he usually refused to even let you see him like that. You enjoyed how respectful he was. But sometimes you wished he'd be a little rougher

After all your initial crush on him started when he started out being mean to you. You at first were annoyed but something about it started to turn you on. Then over time you just developed an intense crush. And after his demeanor started to change you partly missed it. But you also enjoyed how much closer you were getting with him. He was being so much nicer than you were used to

Until one day he confessed his feelings and it caught you completely off guard. He asked to court you (which was really cute) and you said yes

You guys took things very slow and it took a while for you to even get physical. He apparently wasn't the most experienced when you started out

But now, he knew every spot that set you off. And he loved ravishing you. Kissing all the way up and down your body before reaching his destination and treating you like his favorite dessert. But you wondered if he was holding back. If there were things HE wanted that he never expressed. What about HIS pleasure. Even though he rarely was in the mood for sex himself, you couldn't help feel like there was more he enjoyed that he just was too afraid to bring up

Then one day you decided give him a little push. You were getting ready to have sex again. And you noticed his erection which meant he was aroused now as well. You saw it as the perfect time

"I was thinking..." You said playfully. "Whats going on in that beautiful head of yours?" He asked gazing into your eyes. You noticed a little hunger behind them which he usually hid well but being his partner for this long, you learned to recognize it. "Today we should try something new" you answered and you saw his eyes light up a little

"Ah, and what were you thinking we should try?" He asked eager for your response. You hesitated purposefully to build the tension. "I was thinking... YOU could decide" you smirked at him. He seemed taken back a bit by that. "What do you mean?"

"Alastor, today I want you to do WHATEVER YOU WANT to me. Even if it's something you're nervous about. I promise I will say so when something makes me uncomfortable" you assured him

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He carefully questioned. "Yes. I want you to indulge for once. Try something new. And maybe we will even learn something about each other" you explained

Alastor chuckled darkly "very well". A predatory look gleamed on his eyes. It made you weak I'm knees unlike you'd ever felt

"We can start now"

"Strip." Alastor commanded. You begin taking off your clothes, liking this already. "Slower" he said. So you did. He waited for you to be completely naked before he pounced on you trapping you on the bed pinned underneath him. Tentacles sprouted out holding your wrists and ankles. You gave a test tug and discovered they were tight but not painfully

He lowered himself down putting his weight on you before you felt his mouth on your skin. You thought he was going to kiss your neck until you felt intense sharp pain. He sank his teeth into your neck. He drew blood before he lapped it up. You cried out and he stopped and looked at you with concern. You gave him a small smile to show that it was ok and so continued and bit you again. He bit you the shoulder now. Then he moved down and bit your side underneath your arm. Then he bit your stomach in multiple spots. Each time drawing blood and each time licking off your skin.

You felt him getting harder against you through his pants. He started to grind and hump away at you while he sank his teeth into every inch of your body. His hips sped up. He went back up and sank his teeth into your shoulder one last time harder than any of his other bites and soiled his pants as you screamed in pain and little bit of pleasure

He sat back straddling your hips before he unbuckled taking out his cock which was harder than you'd seen it in a long time. Rock hard still even though he just came. Was this the kind of stuff that turned him on? He never told you. Why had he never told you?

He lowered himself before positioning his dick right between your legs. But he didn't go in right away. He hovered there for minute

You were so painfully aroused and even more so when you felt the tip of his cock teasing your hole. You whimpered and noticed his eyes filled with lust and sadistic glee. He was enjoying tormenting you and for some reason that reminded you of how everything started and it turned you on so bad

You felt him breach you entrance and go in slowly. But he looked at you like he was holding back. "Remember, you set the pace however you want" you panted out practically reading his mind and that's all the cue he needed to go barreling inside you back break speed and force

You cried out as your cry turned into a sensual moan. He kept up the pace. Brutal and enjoying every second of it. Since you had told him to indulge he chased his own release but that didn't stop you from cumming. He continued to drill into you through your orgasm and you were started to get overstimulated

He sped up faster and harder until finally he bit you again and came inside you violently

He waited until his cock stopped twitching to pull out and and fell to your side

Once you both caught your breaths, he got up to draw a bath for the two of you

"I don't think I can walk" you stated and he simply scooped you up and carried you over

As you bathed he examined your body and what he'd done to it. "I do apologize if this was too rough for you darling, I may have gotten carried away..." he said with tinge of guilt in his eyes

You couldn't imagine him never doing this again. You had to tell him. "Alastor... I loved it. Every second of it." You confessed. "Even the bites?" He asked. You nodded "even the bites"

Alastor smiled wickedly "well they do look quite lovely on you don't they... perhaps I'll have to replace them once in a while"

#kinktober hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #kinktober #alastor smut

188 notes · View notes

some-stars · 2 months ago

Text

REC POST REC POST REC POST LIKE IT'S 2005

im gonna do more of these, but this one is "poolverine(-adjacent) fics where they have serious relationship conflict besides pre-confession pining and miscommunication". please enjoy! leave comments!

The One Where Logan and Wade Learn How to be Boyfriends (series), ashe_urbanipal Literally you could not describe a story/series in a way more designed to push all my most favorite buttons. They have to figure this shit OUT!! It's MESSY!!! And they keep TRYING and getting gradually, unevenly better at it, mostly!!! The love confessions happen in the first fic in the series and then we get into the MEAT of it all. Brain damage, jealousy, trauma, and intense relationship-repairing conversations while having fingers cut off. This series has it ALL.

Come Hell or High Water, farmhandler Another wonderfully messy long fic that acknowledges these guys need serious therapy. The deep affection and intense frustration are both so REAL, it makes me so happy.

Blood, Dirt, Love (Stop), por_queeee The relationship issues are resolved without TOO much difficulty here but they're definitely present, and also this fic has my absolute favorite take so far on Logan's X-Men-related trauma and how that might play out for him.

Don't Want To Be A Fool For You, HeavensAche This is just deliciously complicated and messy and beautiful. Like honestly I could list specific things but if you want the slow tangled process of them figuring their shit out, this DELIVERS.

Like a Little Prayer, whiskeywitch This one is very short but it's probably my favorite take on the "Logan skewers Wade during a nightmare" scenario. Intense but understated, not easily fully resolved.

It's Not Fucking Nice, Thestarvedghost I really enjoy this exploration of how Logan's two hundred years of issues and damage would weigh heavy on his relationship with Wade, no matter how much they love each other. A really interesting way to bring Logan's Victor issues into it, too. (Me being me, I should probably specify that this contains NO sibling incest, just deeply abusive and unhealthy relationship dynamics.)

the girlfriend experience, kekinkawaii In which Wade FUCKS UP, big time. Happy ending but GOD, I love when they really truly badly hurt each other.

so leave me my liver and leave me my skin (leave me the way all those other homes did), iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid Love when Logan gets to be an absolute fucking mess of trauma and poor coping skills. With a hopeful ending, even! (This one is gen but it's still in great part About Them.)

themes for future rec lists: best smut, my favorite honda odyssey fics, Just Really Fucking Good Shit, cablepool, ???

#deadpool #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine

181 notes · View notes

twistmusings · 3 months ago

Note

florid and (arguably) azujade are feasting this chapter update. congrats us

Honestly Anon, you're so right.

Chapter 7 is so interesting for Octavinelle - largely because we do get to see so much of how they think of each other and themselves, and we get to see so much of their relationship with each other. Honestly the shippers are thriving, but so are so many Jade and Floyd fans.

CW: Spoilers, Twisted Wonderland Character Shipping and mentions of Neurodivergence under the cut in case that isn't your cup of tea. It's very long and examines Floyd and Riddle's and Jade and Azul's dynamics throughout TWST and is sort of Character Analysis as well. Special note that there are Visual spoilers under the cut that will spoil some of the jokes from this chapter, so proceed with caution.

First, Floyd, who we see is outright distraught when everything goes right. Honestly at this point it makes me, as an ADHD person, struggle to not view Floyd as also having ADHD. I tend to not actually assign the characters neurodivergence or diagnose them, but honestly his characteristics really point to him being understimulated and just generally miserable because he's not doing anything and that's boring him. I have heard this from so many other folks with ADHD and have experienced it myself. I think, truth be told, that Floyd is a really good picture of a young person with ADHD. Especially as someone who was just properly diagnosed later in life - I would get these random, massive intense moods and would never be able to explain them until I began to suspect I had ADHD. If we consider Floyd's general characterization - he hates to be 'bored', he hates to force himself to do things that he doesn't want to do, he had random, intense moods, randomly struggling with some academics while really excelling in the things that interest him, comparing himself to other people and not understanding why he's different ... like, yeah, as a person with ADHD I relate to him so much. It's so interesting to me because Japan in general has a lot of medical bias against diagnosing and managing neurodiversity, so I think generally speaking, he's honestly a really well written example of someone who is struggling. I think his portrayal is probably so important for young people who play the game because it makes them feel normal and accepted, and I can't deny that.

And then Floyd and Riddle... these two are so funny. Like, if you had to ask me any character that shows having a crush on someone else canonically, I would probably point to Floyd and how he acts with Riddle. Considering that they're teenagers and we know neither he nor Riddle have any experience dating (none of the characters except Ace really do), I think it's really charming because like... are they annoying the fuck out of each other? Yeah, and I think that's pretty realistic for people who are 17 who have crushes on each other. Of course, I don't want to say I support people annoying or antagonizing their partners, but they are young people who are still learning how life works. I realize that teasing =/= having a crush on someone, but like...

In the recent stitch event they had this dialogue

Riddle gets so genuinely happy when Floyd praises him. Even Jack takes note of it. And then in Floyd's Labwear...

This interaction is so telling of the sort of relationship that they have with one another - first Floyd interprets their interactions as playing. Second, Riddle takes note that Floyd is in a bad mood which means that Riddle pays enough attention to him to notice when he's having a bad day. And then you have Jade over there just like 👀. It's so goofy but it's kind of wholesome also because it shows that in spite of everything, Riddle still shows concern for Floyd and Jade is a nosy sibling.

I don't know how many people have actually read the comic anthology, but there's a side story with Floyd and Riddle where Riddle is trying to study how to control himself better following his OB and Floyd, of course, comes to bother him and notices him reading advanced books and that ends in this interaction.

Like, is Floyd being a shit? Yes, of course, but he also doesn't take it back when he says that he thinks that it's admirable that Riddle works hard.

They really are the duality. Please enjoy this too-high effort shitpost I made.

And then add the fact that in the most recent story chapters the thing that gets Floyd to wake up is Silver and Jamil reminding him of the entrance ceremony where Riddle threw him through the air, and Floyd essentially being like "Yeah goldfishie is fun that was fun" and that being what snaps him out of it? Like these two are fated to irritate the hell out of each other by the story itself.

Also I think it's such a funny cute touch that the reason Floyd even started irritating Riddle is because Riddle couldn't control his temper and flung him. Floyd was just being curious, and while, yeah he probably should have asked before he touched Riddle's hair because he was curious if it would feel hot, Riddle immediately rose to meet his energy, and generally speaking we know that Floyd is a physically motivated person. He likes to fight, and he likes to test his strength. No one else caused a scene at the Sophomore orientation except Riddle. You know, the character that is almost entirely focused on not breaking rules? Riddle painted a massive target on his own back with his temper. And honestly, what I think does make it work is that even though Floyd teases Riddle literally all the time, he does respect Riddle. Riddle is interesting to him because he's strong and reacts when Floyd irritates him. As I said before, on Floyd's end at least, the antagonism is playful, and considering Floyd's relationship with Jade and Azul it's easy to see why. It's how he was raised to view affection from friends and peers.

Now, how about Riddle's side of things? Well, while we don't get a ton of canon crumbs from Riddle, there's at least a few things that we do get. We know that Riddle sort of resents that Floyd teases him, but he has been told multiple times by other people that Floyd is just trying to get a rise out of him. And yet, every time Floyd compliments Riddle and then immediately starts teasing him, Riddle falls for it. On some level, I'm sure it's because Riddle likes the attention just as much as Floyd, even if for a different reason. Riddle gets put down a lot - from his dorm and from his own mother. But even if Floyd teases him, Floyd also gasses him up because, like I said, Floyd genuinely thinks highly of Riddle. Riddle gets complimented and he gets smug about it because he thinks highly of himself, and it probably feels good to have that recognized.

Compare Riddle's interactions with Floyd to the ones he has with Jade, for example.

From the Spectral Soiree event.

There are a couple reasons why I feel like this is important to note. First, Riddle recognizes that Jade is making fun of him immediately. Riddle also misses Jade's sarcasm. Riddle isn't good at reading Jade - he finds Jade unpredictable and malicious, and interprets this as Jade making fun of him. In contrast, you don't see Riddle outright refuse a compliment from Floyd - he knows that Floyd is being upfront about how he feels when he says the things he does, but he doesn't know that about Jade. Riddle is also the butt of the joke here, whereas if we compare it to the similar situation that he went through with Floyd during the Tropical Turbulence event.

Floyd is teasing Riddle, yes, but in this situation he isn't making Riddle the butt of the joke, he's just causing a little bit of chaos. Floyd already has a plan in place, but Riddle the two aren't arguing with each other. It's also important to note that Floyd is one of the few characters outside of his dorm that Riddle really banters with comfortably.

The other thing is that though they compete with and annoy each other, Floyd and Riddle are actually genuinely pretty nice to each other otherwise. They both compliment each other pretty frequently even if they usually pepper in barbs as they do.

Floyd and Riddle are also pretty similar people, too:

At any rate, that's a lot of screenshots to basically say, yes they do make fun of each other and tease each other, but when they do get onto the same page, they work very well together and seem to have a mutual respect for each other even if they criticize each other. They can identify the aspects in each other that they can't identify in themselves and it makes their chemistry interesting because every time they share screentime it seems like they learn from each other.

Anyway, Florid fans eat well literally any time these two share screen time.

And then Jade and Azul... honestly those two cracked me up the entire time.

First you have Jade's dream with his god awful imagination. Jade literally gets the knockoff versions of Azul and Floyd as I said in the first post about it, but I think it's interesting to see how he perceives both of them. I'll be including images this time.

I'll start with Floyd because HOO buddy if I was Floyd and had to endure this shit.

This is an actual crime.

That being said, Floyd is noticeably more childish in Jade's dream than the actual Floyd is in reality, both in his rather immature visage as well as a more child-like way of speaking.

It's worth noting, in Floyd's dream, Floyd doesn't really pay much attention to where Jade is, and he doesn't really pay any attention to where Azul is either. He says "Eh, Jade's probably with Azul on land because the Mostro Lounge was succeeding." Floyd also makes a point of saying that it's a rule between the three of them - they don't have to stick together - if they don't want to do something, then they won't stick together and whoever wants to do it can do it on their own, or if they don't want to involve someone in something, they don't involve them in it. (Ironically, I would argue that this is one of the healthier dynamics for friendship in TWST that we see. All three of them have discussed and come to understand that if they need to separate ways, they will, they don't want to hold each other back from the things they enjoy.)

Jade on the other hand, and whether Floyd likes it or not, seems to view Floyd as a younger brother. We don't get confirmation as to whether or not Jade hatched first or if Floyd hatched first, but regardless of whichever it is, it seems like Jade views Floyd as his younger brother, and seems to have an instinct to coddle him, even if this portrayal of Floyd is deeply unflattering to Floyd and starts a whole fight.

It's also of note: Floyd didn't expect to be in Jade's dream at all. Floyd talks about how he figures that Jade has just dreamed about him in a similar way that Floyd had dreamed of Jade - off doing whatever he wanted to do. That's not true - Floyd is there, with Jade, and engaging in Jade's interests.

In Jade's official EN school uniform home tap he says:

Though some translations tend to interpret this line differently, and essentially instead say that Floyd is clingier than he seems.

The reason I'm pointing this out is because Jade is the only one of the three who's primary dream features all three of them together. This would seem to point toward Jade actually being the one who's clingier, and to being the one who's most attached to both of them. I can't really say for certain, but I almost wonder if Jade has a bit of a fear of abandonment with regard to Azul and Floyd and that's why his ideal dream world is one where they're both so reliant on him.

And then Azul...

Is Giorno Giovanna in the room with us?

Seriously though, I think it's kind of interesting to see how Azul is portrayed in Jade's imagination.

For reference, here's what Azul actually looks like in his mer form in the same pose.

The thing I immediately noticed is Azul's eyes. Sure, the image Jade has of Azul is a JJBA joke, but there's something else I want to point out about them in particular.

Azul's eyes are an entirely different, brighter color. In fact, it's also a different color from Azul's overblot eye color as well.

We know that Jade's limited imagination means he's working on his own impressions of Floyd and Azul and you're telling me that Jade's impression of Azul is that he looks like a character from a manga known for being about handsome, fabulous men and that he has ginormous, bright, shiny blue eyes that look like sapphires? Hello?????? Jade???

I think this is fascinating because had they just drawn Azul as like a normal old JJBA reference but kept his color palette the same, I could see it just being explained as "oh, neat, Jade thinks Azul is handsome when Azul doesn't" but follow me with this: Jade's imagination is painting them in broad strokes the way that Epel's imagination was doing in his dream. These are Jade's impressions of Floyd and Azul.

Floyd tracks - he sees Floyd as a younger brother and someone he inherently wants to take care of, even if it's not realistic. Floyd is a childish younger brother in a cartoonish way. Azul is motivated by money in a cartoonish way. These are the traits that stick out the most about the both of them to Jade.

So when Jade imagines Azul physically what he sees is Azul being handsome AND that he has these shiny bright blue eyes even if his memory gets the shade of blue wrong. Jade....... honey................ I need you to sit down when I tell you this..........

And then after he and Floyd fight, because Jade is too stubborn to wake up because he can't grasp that what he's seeing is wrong, the thing that finally triggers him to realize something is off is this version of dream Azul checking on him after the fight and being relieved he's okay and then saying that he's afraid he would have lost his "かわいい部下".

The thing that triggers Jade to start waking up is Azul calling Jade his cute subordinate (essentially his cute assistant). I am not exaggerating this. That is literally the phrase that triggers Jade. Jade even repeats it.

AND HE FUCKING PANICS

JADE. I AM BEGGING THE SECONDHAND CRINGE THIS MADE ME FEEL.

From there the dream Floyd of course says he's going to cry if Jade left him and like that just seals the deal. And everyone is super impressed because Jade realized it was wrong by himself and woke himself up.

I don't tend to insert my opinions much in my post but there is not a single person on this planet that is not going to make me believe that Jade did not just gay panic himself awake. I feel like most queer people have experienced something just like this. Jade literally wakes himself up because he's like "no, wait, hold on, Azul wouldn't say that, right?" and then Floyd saying he's going to cry sells it. Dream Azul essentially just fucking "baby girl"ed him and Jade was like "no, actually, that's too cringe for me to even dream about".

Then you have Azul's dream. Honestly there aren't a lot of crumbs there for Jade, but I think it's sort of sweet how even if they're sort of forced to, Jade and Floyd don't want to force Azul to do anything. They have a lot of respect for each other's personal boundaries, and they were fully prepared to let Azul stay asleep and allow him to work it out himself if he wanted to wake up. It doesn't end up working out that way, but it's not hard to tell that both the twins and Azul had respect for each other as individuals.

Another neat thing is that Azul is one of the few people who's dreams aren't inherently things he really wants. They're more of "what-if" scenarios. What if Azul was good at sports and ended up being a high school athlete? What if Azul actually got to follow through on burning that picture of his younger self and then opened a Mostro Lounge branch? I think it's interesting that Azul seems to be kept in these dreams because his imagination is vivid, and not because they're an ideal world perse. In a sense they are - but Azul himself admits that he doesn't really want either of them.

Azul gets so much growth shown in this chapter. He ends up wanting to wake up because he wants to live for himself, and not live for what other people think of him or having to rely on them. Azul still wants to succeed, but he wants to succeed for himself and not because he feels a need to one up the people that bullied him, and he wants to be fulfilled in himself. He's actually working on his mental health, I love that for him.

And, one more thing of note, I think it's so fucking cool that at the end of the book, Azul doesn't freak out about other people seeing him in his true form. In fact, he doesn't freak out about seeing himself in his true form when Idia makes a proxy version of him - he's just thinking about how cool it would be to have a second version of himself. I feel like most people have gotten the sense that Azul has a sense of self-loathing regarding his mer-form, but it seems like if he did at some point, he's made peace with it.

Anyway that's an unnecessarily long infodump about my feelings about the character relationships that we've got in the new update. Like obnoxiously long. So, uh... I'll just end the post with Azul's smiling sprite because I just think it's fucking adorable.

#answered;;#Anonymous #florid #jeiazu #twst #twisted wonderland #spoilers #twst spoilers #character analysis;;#Octavinelle is the dormitory where all of the queer folk go #I mean all of the dorms are but these three have a certain je ne sais quoi #In basically every test I've ever taken that sorts you into a dorm I've also ended up in Octavinelle so.... that tracks #welcome to Octavinelle we had good food and gay fish #twst shipping;;

155 notes · View notes

penny00dreadful · 3 months ago

Text

STWG Prompt: Falling Star💫

Continuation from this post

Steve felt discomfort squirming in his belly.

Though he no longer had the star–Eddie, he reminded himself–chained to him like a mule or a dog, he still felt like there was a power dynamic, a weight of responsibility sitting on him.

Eddie trudged along behind him through the woods, looking downright miserable, exhausted and covered in dirt and debris from where he had landed in the forest and the crater his body had created.

He was faintly glowing in the light of dawn, but it was much dimmer than it had been in the dark of the night, like his brightness was waning.

Steve tried to think of how he would feel, dropping into a strange foreign world with the hope of finding love, only to be chained up by some guy from Hawkins of all places and told he was to be taken back as a… as a prize for who Steve hoped would become his finacé.

It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

Glancing back over his shoulder at Eddie’s tangled dark curls, ripped and muddy silvery cloak and robes, his pale skin spattered with a dark contrast of dirt, almost as stark as the tattoos adorning his arms and the dark bags under his eyes, he made a decision.

“We’re going to take a detour.” He announced as Eddie stumbled over another root in the ground.

“Why? The sooner I go meet your Nancy, the sooner I can start on my own journey. I’d prefer if we got it over with.”

“You’re exhausted—”

“Well it’s past my bedtime already—” Eddie snarked back, waving at the rising sun.

“And you’re filthy.”

“You’re not looking so hot yourself, sunshine.”

Steve looked down at himself, also covered in mud and scratches from where he’d had to crawl through brambles and hedges just to get to Eddie’s crater site.

“Exactly so… so we’re gonna head to the nearest town. It’s not that far from here, I think. We can wash this dirt off and we can get you some new clothes and a nap or something.”

Eddie frowned at him.

“Why do I need new clothes? We can just get these washed. That’s something you do down here, right?”

Steve blinked at him.

“Yes. We wash our clothes but…”

Well… it was now or never. Time to voice the other worry that he had sitting in the back of his head.

“I highly doubt I’m the only one out here looking for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… you…” He shook his head, not able to think of a way to make this sound not terrible. “Stars are valuable. You’re valuable. There’ll be some people like me, who will probably be looking for a big lump of rock, but I suspect in a land like this one, there’ll be plenty who know exactly what they’re looking for. Someone like…” Steve gestured over all of Eddie.

“If they’re looking for a star, I doubt they’ll be looking for someone like me, Steve.”

Eddie crossed his arms, leaning against a tree, his whole body drooping with some kind of bone deep exhaustion that wasn’t just coming from the daylight.

“They’ll be looking for someone pretty and perfect and bright. Shiny hair and unmarked skin and someone who isn’t so fucking weird.”

But you are pretty and perfect and bright, something in Steve’s head said and okay maybe that was a little too far for right now.

He’d only met the guy a few hours ago and he still had… Nancy was waiting for him.

“Your clothes are very star-like?” Steve hedged, unsure of what else to say.

“Only because I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” Eddie mumbled back.

“Okay, well… then I’ll get you something that feels more… you.”

Steve was forced to swallow as those dark and intense eyes looked up at him from their slumped position. Almost being pulled in by gravity.

“Why?” Eddie asked again.

Because I want you to be happy. I want you to be comfortable. I want to see what you look like when you feel more like yourself.

Steve only shrugged.

“And your Nancy isn’t going to mind the delay?”

“She’s not my Nancy.” Steve huffed. “Not yet anyway.”

Maybe not ever, if the hesitation on her face had been anything to go by, when he’d proclaimed he’d go and bring her back the star for her hand in marriage.

Eddie sighed and it seemed to take a lot of effort for him to push himself back to standing again.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Sneaking Eddie into a village and then into a room at the inn was much easier than Steve had anticipated.

He’d heard whispers of the villagers about the fallen star but Eddie was correct in assuming people wouldn’t glance at someone who looked like him.

It also helped that his brightness was nonexistent under the midday sun.

So while Eddie bathed and slept off his exhaustion in their room, the only room available at the inn, one bed between them–what were the chances– Steve ventured back out to the local market to get him something to wear that was less star-like.

Steve had noticed Eddie’s eyes catching on the shiny jewellery and dark leathers as they had passed, so he took a risk and picked a few of those pieces up for him, feeling a little fluttery about it.

Like he was buying gifts for courting or something, which was a ridiculous idea.

He couldn’t court a star.

But when he got back to the room, arms laden down with whatever he could carry, he was forced to reevaluate when Eddie was just lying there, face relaxed in sleep, beautiful and placid, breathing slowly and easily, clean and combed and glowing.

And probably naked as all hell under those sheets. They only came up to his hips and Steve had to tear his eyes away from the lean muscle and sharp bones sitting under delicate pale flesh marked through with a shock of black tattoos.

How anyone could think he wasn’t pretty and perfect and bright was beyond him.

Steve set the clothes and jewellery down on the desk and snuck his way around the bed, to the window with the heavy curtains drawn closed.

The room should have been dark, but Eddie was giving off enough light on his own for Steve to easily find his way around.

He managed to sneak behind the curtains, sitting himself down on the little cushioned alcove seat beyond, and curled himself up into a little ball.

He stared out the window to the small village below and tried to remind himself of why he was here in the first place.

Eddie was ignoring him.

Eddie had been ignoring him for the entire day.

Steve didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Everything had been going great. They’d been talking about… well, nothing really.

It was one of the things he really liked about Eddie. That they could talk about anything for hours and every time they did, Steve inevitably kinda forgot what he was doing here.

He was supposed to be bringing Eddie back to meet Nancy. The girl he hoped to… to marry.

And… and then he was going to help Eddie find love.

And that was… that was fine.

That had always been the plan.

And okay, maybe he had mentioned that he wasn’t totally sure about the Nancy of it all anymore, so that might have been it?

Maybe Eddie thought Steve was going to back out on his side of the deal now.

But he didn’t know because Eddie wouldn’t even look at him.

Whenever Steve tried to strike up a conversation, Eddie just hummed, turning his head away and staring ahead of them and Steve could practically hear him begging him to stop talking.

So Steve did.

But he couldn’t anymore.

“Did I do something?” He asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he looked out over the green fields and mountains, over the landscape while they walked the road leading them back to Hawkins.

Eddie didn’t open his mouth to answer, just made a questioning noise at him, still kicking rocks down the road. Still not looking at him.

Steve sighed and stopped. Waited for Eddie to stop too, which he did. He turned and looked with a furrow in his brow, silently asking why they had stopped moving.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve asked again. “If I said something to piss you off, I’m sorry for whatever it was but… can you just tell me so I don’t do it again?”

“No. It’s not-” Eddie shook his head, turning his back again. “It’s not you, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve took a few steps forward.

“There’s no problem, Steve.”

Not Stevie. Or sunshine. Or sweetheart. Just Steve.

“Clearly something is wrong, Eds, you’re not even glowing anymore. Just tell me so I can fix it-”

“It’s nothing you can fix.” Eddie snapped back, so suddenly loud and angry, Steve was struck dumb.

He reached forward, catching Eddie’s wrist up in his hand. Eddie didn’t try to pull away, but instead froze, face turned away and whole body tense.

“Eds, please.” Steve brought them face to face, a hand on his cheek.

Eddie looked somehow both angry and heartbroken at the same time.

“I can’t drag you down with me.” He muttered.

Steve could only shake his head in bewilderment.

“What?”

“I can’t drag you down with me, Stevie. We just need to get you back to Nancy and everything will be fine.”

“But… but I don’t even know if that’s what I want anymore.” He let go of Eddie’s wrist, brushing his fingers along Eddie’s, trying to take his hand. “I think… I thought… maybe—”

Eddie ripped his hand away.

“I’m a fallen star, Steve!” He shouted, his face crumpling. “I’m not just a star, I’m a fallen star. I can’t take you back to the skies with me, I can’t give you everlasting life, or magic or wealth or whatever else you humans might want me for. I can’t give you anything like that!”

“Eddie- what? I don’t care about any of that-!”

“It’s fine.” Eddie shook his head and started to stomp his way back up the road. “We’ll get you back to Nancy and you don’t even have to worry about helping me out on my side of things, I can… I’ve got it covered. We’ll get you back to Nancy and everything will be fine.”

“Wait- Wait!” Steve shouted after him, jogging to keep up and planting himself in Eddie’s path again. “I don’t want any of that stuff from you. I just want… I don’t want Nancy anymore. I want you.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Eddie. You know what my life has been like. Let me make this decision for myself. I don’t care that you’re fallen. I don’t care that you can’t give me all of that. Why would I want an everlasting life when I could grow old with you?”

“You would want that… with me?”

“Eddie.” Steve almost whispered, their faces so close together, Eddie’s big wet eyes staring at him, the faintest glow of hope coming off of his skin. “I want everything with you.”

Eddie closed his eyes with a little laugh, letting his head tilt forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

“God damn it, Stevie.”

Eddie pressed his face in that little bit closer, finally sealing their lips together.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble #stardust au

148 notes · View notes

kathaynesart · 1 year ago

Text

Replica Holiday Special Winners!

Happy Holidays everyone! It's that time of year and you know what that means! Time to announce the winners for the DTIYS Replica Holiday Special Cover!

I received so many wonderful submissions. Far more than I had anticipated! They were all so unique and creative and it was an absolute joy to look at each and every one of them! I really underestimated however how difficult it would be to choose with them all being so unique from each other. In the end, I decided to gauge the top picks on how well their cover captured the "essence" of what this Special is going to be like! Without further ado, here are the winners.

HONORABLE MENTION - @matchstique

Buddy! I love this piece so dang much! It has so much character and perfectly displays the wacky hijinks we can expect as well as the huge amount of stress our poor boys are under during these trying, pregnancy times. The movement and colors work so well and make me excited for what comes next! Seldom do I see pregnant females shown as the badasses they are, but you have gone and turned Cassandra into an absolute icon with this piece! Bless you!

3RD PLACE - @thegunnsara

Sara, the shear amount of craft you put into your art is STAGGERING. Every scuff on Raph's shell and wisp of smoke screams of a quality I can only hope to attain someday. I literally want to be you when I grow up! That said, the concept of this piece is also fantastic. One of the things I'm must excited about for this Special is getting to see Raph and Casey as they were and witnessing the strong bond they share. I love them dearly and this cover captures their strength and tenacity so perfectly. Gods among men.

2ND PLACE - @cupcakeslushie

Slushie, this cover is so damn fun and dynamic that I can't stop looking at it! Your attention to detail and composition are masterful and the fact that you could fit such a bombastic battle into such a limited space speaks to how crazy talented you are! You also do a wonderful job of retaining both the intensity of the apocalypse but also that playful edge that Rise always manages to retain! It's definitely the cover that would catch my eye on a shelf and make me want to turn the page to see what happens next!

1ST PLACE - @abbeyofcyn

Cyn, the moment I saw this cover, I gasped! It's funny because this is both a piece I could have totally seen myself doing had I done the cover, yet crafted in a unique way I could have never come up with on my own! On top of that, this slick composition scratches my little designer brain juuust right. The use of the hands motif is such a great element because to me, it encapsulates the conflicting themes of family/parenthood with the drama of what it means to be human. On top of that, having each character as one of the digits both connected to and encircling Casey is such a wonderful touch that really drives the symbolism home. Somehow, you managed to peer into the future and perfectly capture how the finale of this special is going to feel. Thank you so much Cyn for such a wonderful piece!

~~~~~~~~~

Now that I think about it, looking back on these winners as a set, all four them actually do an amazing job as individual covers for each of the four "acts" that will make up this special. That was not at all my intention, but it kind of worked out perfectly for that. Gets me all emotional!

I also definitely want to put a spotlight on the other amazing submissions, many of which made it SO close to the top slots! I was going to post these pieces individually but I was worried people wouldn't then go to their blogs to view the covers, so instead have a compilation and links to the full versions! Please check out everyones amazing covers and give them some love. They all worked really hard and it means so much to me. Thank you everyone!

@dreamundraws - LINK @honeylief - LINK @gemini-forest - LINK @memorydarkness - LINK @skullythefriendlyskullface - LINK @v-albion - LINK @its-wabby-stuff - LINK @yris-latteyi - LINK @reagi-df - LINK @chaoscontrol50 - LINK / LINK @murasakibonnet - LINK @hitwiththetmnt - LINK @xandriagreat - LINK @karonkar - LINK @sunydays - LINK (sorry my dear, yours did not appear on my hashtag reference at first! D: But still love it!) @quailaz - LINK @delicatechildwitch - LINK

Thank you again all of you! You all did such an amazing job!

#replica dtiys #replica #rottmnt replica #holiday speical #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #not my art

932 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 1 year ago

Text

part v: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 18k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamic plus explicit violence, threatening behaviour, mentions of homophobia, implied suicidal ideation, and explicit sexual content.

Jisung sighs with agonizing sorrow as he turns his baseball cap around. He tugs the brim low then steeples his hands on the desk.

“I see,” he says grimly. “I understand. You found paradise in Hyunjin. You had a good friendship, it made a good romance. So you didn’t need a friend like me. Now you come to me and say, ‘Han Jisung, come bowling with me and my evil boyfriend.’ But you don’t ask with respect. You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to go bowling—”

“We’re in earth science right now,” Felix says, bemused.

“He’s quoting a movie,” you say.

“Ah.”

“And for the last time, Hyunjin is not my boyfriend,” you say. “We’re just… hanging out.”

Your second ‘date’ with Hyunjin was once more a family affair as your father invited him and his parents to the mansion for lunch. It was professionally catered because your father does nothing by halves, so at least the food was good. You and Hyunjin were mostly silent in the company of your parents, but you were allowed to walk around the yard by yourselves after.

He looked good because he always looks good, in a fuzzy purple sweater and name-brand jeans. His charisma was dwindled to nothing, though. He kept his fists curled up in the sleeves of his sweater and smiled a lot of forced smiles. His parents’ presence clearly does a number on his mentality. He did unwind somewhat when you were finally alone, but it was hard to shake the feeling of observation, their eyes stalking your every step like animals in a zoo.

“Maybe we should just have sex on the ground here,” you said dryly. “See if that satisfies them.”

He burst out laughing at that, an endearingly wheezy sound that made you giggle too.

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “When you make jokes like that I remember you and Han Jisung really are best friends.”

“Guilty,” you said with a snort. “Stupid jokes is what is friendship is all about.”

He smiled at the subject of friendship. His expression was full of so much warmth, very contrary to his polite but cold countenance during lunch when he only flirted appropriately.

You like Hyunjin as a friend and you think he might feel the same way, hence the reservation on both your parts to truly commit to this farce of a relationship. It feels wrong to use him to keep your father happy.

You caught his eye this morning in the school corridor, sharing a smile as you crossed paths. Even though a true relationship has not been defined, you told him you wanted to tell Jisung before you started hanging out at school.

You made the mistake of saying this within earshot of Hyunjin’s parents. His father unfortunately overheard you, enquiring as to the identity of this Jisung.

“Just her little school friend,” your father said. “Nobody important.”

Jisung might be nobody important to your father but he is still your friend. And unlike your father, who merits the value of life on business calculations, the first question Jisung asks is, “Does he make you happy?”

Felix is scribbling in his notebook but lifts his head at that question. You cannot look at him directly because you know it will shatter your very careful mask.

“Hyunjin is actually really nice when you get to know him,” you say, because the best lie has a hint of truth in it. “And I really do like spending time with him. So… it would make me happy if you could be happy for me too.”

Jisung scrutinizes you, then glances at Felix who has gone back to scribbling in his notebook. Eventually Jisung smiles and spins his cap backwards.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Jisung says. He turns very dark and serious when he says, “But that pretty rich boy is paying for my nachos.”

You catch up to Hyunjin in the hallway. He laughs when you tell him Jisung’s stipulation.

“I think I can afford it,” he jokes, then quirks an eyebrow. “Jisung… He doesn’t know about your dad, does he?”

“Only a bit,” you say, thinking back to the countless times you abstractly complained about your father to him. “I mean, he knows he’s strict but he doesn’t know why. I complain about some stuff but… I don’t really go into detail.” Truth be told, you like that your friendship with Jisung is so far removed from your home life. He has nothing to do with your father or your wealth or your abuse. He likes you for you and that has always been the case.

“What about Felix?” Hyunjin asks. He nods behind you because Felix is never too far away. He is blending in as inconspicuously as he can, pretending to read notices on a bulletin board.

“What about him?” you say, heat creeping up your neck. You hope you appear casual.

“How close are you?” Hyunjin asks, his casual tone coloured with a hint of suggestion, like he already knows the answer.

You suppose anyone might assume Felix has a crush on you seeing as he is never far from your side. There is little explanation that a civilian could glean other than Felix being clingy or lovesick. No one would guess it is his job to trail after you.

But the suggestion is difficult to rebuke because your true feelings get all twisted up inside you. You and Felix do like each other – too much for your own goods. Though there has not been a reprise of the other morning, in fact you have not mentioned it once, there is a new electricity in all of your touches. That exchange did not satisfy or quell any desires, in fact it seemed to accomplish the opposite. When you wake in the morning to him so close, your heart turns into a thunderstorm and it sends sparks flying through every inch of your body.

You want him more than ever. You also hope you never get him or you will never find the resolve to let go.

“He’s just my—” You cannot force the word friend. “He’s just Felix,” you say. “He drives me crazy, to be honest.” That much is true.

Hyunjin’s brow furrows. He looks at Felix then turns your body so he is blocking you from sight. He leans in close to speak.

“He isn’t bothering you, is he?” Hyunjin asks. “Because if he is—”

A sharp laugh jumps out of you. The offer of protection is unexpected and unintentionally amusing. You have seen Felix in the midst of his training, his body a well-honed instrument that he knows and controls with utmost precision. Hyunjin uses his body in a different way, playing to his strengths with his showmanship, but he would be no match in confrontation.

Not that he knows it. His offer is very sincere.

You gaze at him, studying his kind but determined face. You remember how Hyunjin was expelled from his old school for fighting with another boy, supposedly over a girl. You read the report yourself and you recall how the other boy was badly pulverized. It is hard to picture Hyunjin doing something like that, but you know how violence often lurks in unassuming places.

“Thank you,” you say. “But it’s fine. Really.”

You guide the conversation back to bowling and it distracts him well enough.

At least you were allowed to plan this date. Your father essentially ordered you to go on a solo date with Hyunjin, except you could not be truly alone because Felix had to be there. When you questioned the logistics of that, your father said to work it out, that he would heed Felix’s discretion on the matter.

Fortunately, even with things tense between you, Felix does take your opinion into consideration. He agreed when you suggested a casual venue where you could hang out with Hyunjin and better acquaint him with your friends.

You are still not sure how long this charade is meant to continue, but for now you try to enjoy having another friend. This turns into a daunting task. Your social skills are lacklustre to say the least and attempting to befriend Hyunjin’s huge circle of friends proves perilously overwhelming. Fortunately, Hyunjin doesn’t take offense when you bail early at lunch to sit with Jisung instead. Hyunjin has a lot of friends but none with whom he is especially close.

“Having a best friend isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” you joke, watching Jisung bowl by swinging the ball two-handedly between his legs. You slouch in your seat as if embarrassed by him, shaking your head while Hyunjin laughs.

“He’s funny,” Hyunjin says.

“Then why do you antagonize him?” you ask, lightly but curiously.

“Because it’s fun,” he says with a smirk, making you laugh and Felix chuckle. “And easy.”

The three of you watch Jisung wail as his ball predictably rolls into the gutter.

“Fair enough,” you say.

You can tell Hyunjin has his guard up. It does not make him unkind but he is less personable even while he is more charismatic. You know that persona is in place to protect him, that Hyunjin wears happiness and charm the way you wear ire. Although they are contrary dispositions, both keep people at bay.

Jisung, being Jisung, manages to slip through the cracks of that guarded wall, much like he did you. You got to know Jisung slowly then all at once, empty moments passing between you until one day you realized he had long passed the guarded gate.

You are mulling this over when you spot him. You are so surprised that you choke on your soda and sputter the liquid painfully out of your nose. Your spontaneous violent hacking startles the boys, all of them jumping then fussing over you.

You are still coughing when Lee Minho approaches.

Hyunjin and Jisung do not see him at first, too pre-occupied with wiping your shirt and asking if you are okay. It is Felix who spots Minho next, realization dawning on his face before his expression sours. You have been seeking that reaction, looking for the vaguest hint of jealousy or at least acknowledgement. Felix does not seem very intimidated by Hyunjin, even when he flirts with you or touches you. He can probably tell your feelings are only friendly. But you did like Lee Minho once and he knows that.

Your heart skips beats when you and Felix look at each other. He has not been holding your gaze lately, quick to look away when you catch him staring. It sounds strange to say that you miss him when he is sleeping in your bed every night, but you ache with the loss of intimacy. He is the first person you see in the morning and the last face you see at night, but he has never felt farther away. Even your very first night together involved more genuine interaction.

If he truly did not want you, it would be easier. But when you do catch him staring, his eyes are intense, his gaze forever thoughtful. When he is not minding his actions, he naturally leans towards you just as you do him, orbiting planets around the light of your stars.

Jisung likes you as a friend, Hyunjin likes you as an ally, but Felix knows every part of you, the good and the bad, the normal and the crazy. When he touches you, he touches all of you, and you feel like a whole person, full of more life and possibility than you ever thought you could be. You told yourself not to rely on his touches and maybe you should have listened, maybe this withdrawal would not ache so terribly now, but you cannot bring yourself to fully regret it.

What you want is to reach across this table and hold his face, to bring it close to yours. Even if you don’t kiss, it would be enough to have him close, his breath on your lips and his freckled cheeks warm under your palms.

You will take what you can get, basking in the devoted attention of his gaze as your former crush approaches the table.

Minho comes up behind Hyunjin and smacks a hand onto his shoulder, startling him.

“I could hear you from the parking lot, Hwang Hyunjin,” Minho teases. “How many degrees was it again?”

When the rival popular boys were both at school, their interactions were minimal despite their reputations. Their few encounters were only jokingly hostile, one running gag revolving around Minho cooking Hyunjin in an air-fryer.

“One-hundred-eighty degrees,” Hyunjin completes the joke. He laughs with everyone else but he is blushing scarlet from the tips of his ears all down his neck.

It is strange. Hyunjin is a physical person, at least when performing. This is the same guy who made out with his girlfriend in a classroom. The same guy who got detention on his first day for skipping class to fool around with some girl. And yet his shoulder dips as if Minho’s hand is too heavy to bear, as if he is overwhelmed by the touch.

Hyunjin once remarked on your powers of observation. It is especially easy to read someone when their behaviour is similar to your own. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. The stilted proximity, the way they naturally lean towards each other, so heavily affected by the simplest touch on the shoulder.

How they absolutely cannot bring themselves to meet eyes.

Minho talks to your table, friendly enough, but it is obvious he has no idea who the rest of you are. He only knows Hyunjin, and he addresses Hyunjin directly, but he does not look at Hyunjin for more than a few seconds, and they do not look at each other at the same time.

Eventually, Minho squeezes the back of Hyunjin’s neck and Hyunjin curls up his fingers. Minho smiles and says his goodbyes, casual, friendly, sparing one final glance at Hyunjin that Hyunjin does not return. Hyunjin reaches for his glass and takes a drink while Minho leaves to join his own friends across the room.

You wonder if Felix registered any of it, but he is still frowning at Minho’s retreating back. You suppose he was watching you more than Hyunjin. Jisung is taking a picture of his abysmal bowling score.

You look at Hyunjin but he is smiling again. He offers to pay for dinner, swiftly diverting the conversation in that direction. Jisung goes with him to counter to order, leaving you and Felix alone.

Felix has gone back to feigned indifference, sipping from his soda as he stares at nothing particular.

“I need to be alone with Hyunjin for a bit,” you say. That quickly snaps his attention to you. “I just want to talk to him.”

“Talk,” Felix says, lifting an eyebrow. “Uhh, about what?”

“If it was your business, I wouldn’t need to be alone with him,” you say curtly. You are being intentionally antagonistic with that one, but you get a little thrill when it succeeds in piquing his interest. You suppose you have always resorted to bad behaviour for attention. Encouraged by the heat darkening his gaze, you flutter your eyelashes and drawl, “My daddy would get mad if you got in the way of us, you know.”

He laughs with disbelief. Stubborn as ever, he looks away, popping an elbow on the table and digging his fist into his temple.

“What?” you say with exaggerated innocence. “Wouldn’t he, Felix? Doesn’t he think I’m a bad girl who needs a good boy to fix her?”

He looks at you, just a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye, but it gets you so hot that you momentarily forget your whole endeavour.

He drops his arm with a thump, smiling at you with all that performative saccharine sweetness. It is the smile he projects when he is convincing the world he is just sweet, innocent Lee Felix. Beanie, flannel, ripped jeans, just another guy, cute and unassuming.

He stands and swiftly turns on the heel of his foot, slapping a hand down on the back of your seat so you instinctively lean back. He follows you down, in your face when he speaks in that low, honeyed voice, “Hyunjin doesn’t have what it takes for that, sweetheart.”

Then he is back in his seat, arms crossed and back to ignoring you.

“I hate you,” is what naturally falls from your lips, no other word sufficing to summarize the sheer inundation of feelings.

The corner of his lips quirk up in a little grin.

He is the present bane of your existence, but Felix does oblige your request. At the end of the evening, he purposefully leads Jisung away with some empty distraction, holding conversation while watching you over his shoulder. He does not go far, but far enough to be out of ear-shot.

Hyunjin is bent down, changing his shoes, and it takes you a minute to muster the nerve to speak.

“Hyunjin,” you finally say, your voice coming out weaker than you intended.

Your tone is usually sharp so the unexpected softness has him tensing before he even lifts his head. When he does, it is with a dimpled smile, handsome and so polite.

You scrub a hand over your face, shaking your head, trying to think of something to say. You do not want to put him in an awkward spot, but you definitely do not want him walking into a worse situation because of ignorance.

“You… you weren’t expelled for fighting… were you?” you finally ask. “And you and Minho weren’t enemies.”

His expression caves, a sharp breath parting his lips. He stares at you for a long moment, flickering between a fake laugh, anger, fear, and finally resignation.

“How did you…” he starts, then laughs without any humour, dry and airy as he pushes his hair back. “You really are good at seeing people, huh.”

“I stand by what I told you at that party,” you say. “That I’m sorry you feel like you have to hide the best parts of yourself. But as your friend, I need you to understand… my father is a very, very dangerous man. He uses people. All the things that make you who you are… he will just categorize them statistically and work out how to use those things against you to benefit him.”

He covers his mouth and stares at the ground, looking contemplative. After some time, he drops his hand, and speaks in an unsteady voice that makes him seem very young. “I can handle it,” he says. “My father…” Another dry laugh. “I had a… friend… at my whole school. My father found us together. He tried to get him leave me alone but… stupid kid… he didn’t listen. So my dad hired this thug, I mean, I didn’t even know you could do that… He shook him up and we paid off the family and then he moved me here and he said… he said…” His voice trails off and you don’t think he will find it again.

“Image,” you say. “Expectation. Whatever.”

He huffs a breath, rolls his eyes, laughs again.

“Yes,” he says. “I thought it would be easy. He wasn’t asking me to change, just pretend. I said… well, that’s not that bad, it could be worse. It’s worse for other people. I can pretend. But it’s not easy and…” He sucks in an unsteady breath, his face crinkling with emotion. His voice is strained when he continues, “I don’t like lying, and just because I don’t like girls it doesn’t mean I like using them. You were the final straw, I just…” He rubs his temples and shakes his head. “I just need to get through this year. I can move out after school but… my dad won’t give me access to my savings until the end of the year and only if I can show him I’m… ‘better’. So I… I need to get through this year.”

“Hyunjin, I want to help you,” you say, “but you need to know what you’re getting into with me. My father is more dangerous than just hiring a thug. He is the thug, his whole operation is thugs. He snaps his fingers and half the city is rearranging itself for him.”

“You talk back to him a lot,” Hyunjin argues, a fact you cannot refute. Though you are marginally better behaved in company, you are never truly docile.

“Yeah,” you say with a helpless laugh, “but trust me, I’m messed up.”

“So am I,” he says. “We can help each other. Keep our dads off our backs for now then figure it all out.”

Silence falls as you consider each other’s words. You feel like no matter what choice you make, it will be the wrong one.

“He works two jobs,” Hyunjin suddenly says, staring over your shoulder. You don’t have to turn to know it is Minho, on the other side of the room, laughing with his friends. “One is at a coffee shop. On the weekends he teaches dance classes to kids. His family isn’t well off but he is so casual about it that no one cares. Things everyone else gets ashamed or embarrassed about just doesn’t seem to bother him. I thought I hated him at first, because it all seemed so easy for him, and I was jealous because I thought I should be the lucky one. Then one morning after a party I was hungover and bitching at him, and he just said tsk…” Fondness creeps into his expression now, smoothing out the sadness that was there before. “Then he made me some coffee and kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it. I started working myself up about it and he called me idiot and did it again.” He looks at you. His voice is steady now. “My dad would never make coffee for someone. He doesn’t even know how. He pays someone to do all that meaningless stuff for him. Meaningless. That’s all his life is. He think it’s so important but it’s not. But I know better.”

He sits straighter and says with complete confidence, “My life will not be meaningless. I just need to get through this year.”

You know it is not so simple as that. You do not see a light at the end of the tunnel the way he seems to do. But he speaks with so much heartfelt conviction that you really do feel it for a moment.

In the end, it is impossible not to take his hand.

Felix is quiet on the car ride home. You know despite the pretence, he is curious about you and Hyunjin. His regard was a scrutinizing one, watching you hold hands until you said goodbye in the parking lot.

But Felix is acting his role, an indifferent and professional bodyguard. You take turns glancing at each other, occasionally catching eyes but looking away soon after.

The house will be empty for the next couple weeks as your father is on a business trip overseas. You strut confidently into the house with Felix on your heels. You busy yourself with scrolling on your phone, pretending you do not hear his agitated sighs. You plop yourself down on the couch and cross your legs.

Felix stands in front of you, arms crossed. You smile an excessively syrupy smile and bat your eyelashes.

“Yes?” you say. “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing with Hyunjin?” he asks.

“You know what I’m doing with Hyunjin,” you say dryly, looking at your phone again. “Just what my daddy said.”

“Okay but uhhh, you don’t like Hyunjin,” he says. “And you definitely don’t like obeying ‘daddy’.” He pitches up the word in a nasally whine to mock you, smiling when you glare.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you say. Then you shrug like the whole thing is beneath you, like you could not care less about his reaction even while it is all you care about.

You stand and knock shoulders when you brush past. You make it a scarce foot before he grasps the back of your neck and guides you back to him, gentle and slow but ungiving in its demand. Even when he lets go, you feel tingles where his fingertips so lightly pressed.

You are standing close, almost cheek to cheek. You can count each familiar freckle.

“Are you free right now?” he asks, dropping his voice in such a suggestive way that you immediately feel flushed. You nod without thinking too hard. When you do, his face lights up with enthusiasm and he smiles, eyes oh-so adorably crinkled with mirth. “Great!” he says. “Put on exercise clothes and meet me in the gym for training.”

He leaves the room in a brisk jog, waving over his shoulder. You stand there for another moment, staring at the empty doorway and computing the whiplash of that whole ridiculous exchange.

Never have you come so close to actually hating that abominable nightmare boy.

You have clearly worked Felix into a mood, so you decide to be marginally complacent and do what he asks lest he hunt you down and force you to do push-ups in the bedroom. We can work-out in the bedroom all right, you imagine yourself saying with a wink, knowing very well there is not a chance you would ever actually be able to say that. Agitating him with a healthy dose of implication is different than outright stating it. Though the look on his face would be funny.

When you reach the gym, he is in sweatpants and a t-shirt just like you. He is stretching in front of the mirror wall. He smiles that sardonic smile through the reflection, beckoning you to join him. You make sure to stomp as petulantly as possible, crossing your arms like a stubborn child when you reach the mirror.

“You need to warm-up first,” he says. “Do you know how to stretch?”

“Yes, I know how to stretch,” you say venomously, a useless lie since he has witnessed your pitiful demonstrations of athleticism in gym class. He doesn’t comment, though, just lifts his eyebrows and says, “okaaaay,” before moving on.

You copy a few of his stretches, though he makes his movements look easier than they are. Then he makes you run a few laps around the room, simply smiling when you scowl at him. You are pretty sure that part was just a petty punishment.

Finally he sets up some mats and starts explaining basic tactical defense positions. He clearly knows what he is talking about and the familiarity of the subject seems to ground him in his body. It draws you into a similar state of relaxation and soon you find yourself actually listening to his instructions.

You mirror a few of his positions, focussing on holding yourself steady, on finding your centre of gravity.

“You won’t beat most people with brute strength,” Felix says. “I mean, uhhh, ha-ha, I’m not exactly the biggest guy in the world, myself, you know? It isn’t about that, though. Look, feel your core strength…”

You lose yourself in your concentration, watching your own motions in the mirror as he steps around you. Your attention only fractures when he lays a hand on your shoulder. He is just fixing your posture but your body does not seem to care that the action is casual. You curse your own sensitivity and tell yourself to get over it, especially when he starts demonstrating more bodily manoeuvres, requiring you to put your hands on his arms or hands or shoulders.

He acts unbothered the whole time, making you feel even more ridiculous. Then he explains something while wrapping an arm around your neck from behind. You step closer instinctively and your eyes widen when your backside collides with his front and you realize he is not as indifferent as he is acting. It is only the vaguest stirring of interest, but his sweatpants do little for modesty.

He nudges you away and clears his throat, continuing his lesson but with a little stutter. You feel flustered and embarrassed too, somehow simultaneously craving this sort of evidence and also balking at it. You actually masturbated in front of each other but for some reason it is more embarrassing when he catches you looking at the subtle imprint in his sweats. He clears his throat again but continues the lesson like nothing happened. When he steps up behind you again, you are both careful to keep your distance, his arm only hovering around you.

“So the best thing in a situation like this—” he starts.

“I know what to do,” you say, the tension so unbearable that if you do not shatter it, it will break you instead. You abruptly swing your arm back, elbowing him in the gut. You catch him by surprise and he stumbles back with an oof, holding his stomach and glaring with playful intensity.

“Very funny,” he says and steps closer again.

“This works too,” you say, giggling then stomping on his foot. It isn’t very hard but it is unexpected so he curses, taking a playful swipe at you when you skip away.

“Mature,” he says sarcastically, but with a genuine smile. You stick your tongue out at him and he reaches again, laughing when you dance out of arm’s reach.

He chases after you and you yelp when he catches up, his retaliation a truly heinous, punitive tickle attack. You squeal and laugh in his arms, squirming to get away and apologizing through your shrieks. He just laughs, continuing his evil barrage of tickles. You get tangled together in your flailing, stumbling around and eventually landing in a giggling heap in front of the mirror.

Finally he stops, just as winded from laughter. You are sitting between his legs, slouched against his chest, facing the mirror as you pant and wind down from your giggles.

You look at each other through the reflection, the longest you have held each other’s gaze in a while. It feels different, less direct, but also more complete. You see yourself as well as him, sitting in a fairly intimate position and looking for all the world like a normal young couple, glowing with carefree happiness.

You take a few steadying breaths. He does as well. The rush of your game settles. In the absence of laughter, the room is quiet. The whole house is quiet, a big empty space with the two of you alone in one small room, securely tucked away in your privacy, looking at each other through a mirror.

He swallows.

Your heart is racing and not from any playful exertion. He has a hand on your elbow and the other on your knee, but he is holding very still, as if a move in any direction will be catastrophic. He is probably right to think that.

You touch his hand anyway, holding his gaze in the mirror while you slide his hand from your knee to your thigh. His brow pinches, expression contorted as if in pain, though the hardening press of him against your backside tells you it is not pain.

He says your name. Then he sighs, closes his eyes, and rests his temple against your head.

“Sweetheart,” he says, drawing out all the softness of heart in his low drawl. You whimper, from that or his touch, his hand high on your thigh. Even through your clothes, his touch burns, waking nerves where it roams.

“Please,” you say, watching his face through his mirror. Finally he meets your gaze there, dark eyes on your face as he lets you guide his hand between your legs.

One deft stroke through your clothes has you making a sound like a sob. It pulls him over the brink of his hesitation, leaving it all behind as he cups you with a possessive sort of determination. His touch is clumsy and desperate but you don’t care, because it’s him.

It all seems to happen so fast and not fast enough, two pairs of nervous hands pushing and pulling. He tugs your knee over his, spreading your legs wide, and slides his hand into your sweats while you buck back against him. Your eagerness overwhelms you so he shushes gently in your ear, his free hand splayed across your collarbone. His forehead is pressed into the side of your head and he looks at you sideways through the mirror. You nod, holding his gaze as he touches you properly.

It is a fumbling, hungry touch, the hunger of someone who thinks he might never eat again after all this plenty. He might be right. He might be wrong. It doesn’t matter right now. You give yourselves over to the experience, as raw and inelegant as all that earnest passion is.

Your breathing is loud enough to fill the whole room, the whole house, broken sighs and guttural moans louder than the yelling that usually fills this place. His touch is only surface, not daring to go so far as putting his fingers inside you, even while rubbing his fingers through all that wet desire. Your knee is hooked over his, keeping you helplessly open under his touch when you come. He looks at you with an incredulous sort of amazement, then his eyes close and his low moan turns to a broken whimper as tumbles over the edge too.

You are both breathing hard in the aftermath, eyes closed, heads touching. You slowly bring your leg back and he slowly withdraws his hand. You look into the mirror when you take his hand, when you put it back between your legs over your clothes and hold it there. He says your name and curses.

It is the last thing he says for a while. You are both quiet. It is only later that night when the silence breaks, when he gets into bed after checking the security system. You look at each other across the space of that bed and mutely come to an accord, his arm outstretched in offering as you move into his embrace. He holds you against his chest, his heart beating under your ear.

“Do you hate me,” he asks, like he already knows the answer.

You sniffle. You nod.

“Okay,” he says, and strokes your back until you fall asleep.

Your final year of school passes in a blur of afternoons with Jisung, fake dates with Hyunjin, and long, unsatisfied nights where you and Felix hold each other with the knowledge of everything between you – and do nothing about it. He keeps his head down, trains, and dutifully reports to your father. At least your father is more agreeable these days because of your supposed relationship with Hyunjin. He thinks it is changing you for the better when really you are just being careful for Hyunjin’s sake.

The end of the year rolls around and soon you are down to the last few days of classes. You and Hyunjin are due for a conversation about what happens next. You whisper this to him in class, sitting close as you are sharing a lab desk for two. He is bent down scribbling in your yearbook, his pen scratching when he freezes. He looks up at you and nods.

“Yo, are you lovebirds done?” Jisung asks, spinning around from the desk he is sharing with Felix. He points a ruler at Hyunjin. “You better have left the last page blank like I said, man. I have things to say to my girl.”

“I did, I did,” Hyunjin says with playful exasperation, handing Jisung your yearbook so he can sign it too. Jisung takes it with a snap, clapping the ruler on the desk before turning back to his own seat to write his message. You and Hyunjin look at each other, helpless but to laugh at his shenanigans.

You catch Felix’s eye. He knows your relationship is fake, though he doesn’t know why. He probably figures you are just trying to keep your father off your case. Even if you trust Felix, it is not your place to tell Hyunjin’s story, guarding it so long as he asks.

It does mean Felix looks at you with the occasional battered-puppy eyes.

“Come on, Felix,” Hyunjin says with his big, dimpled smile, “let me write in yours too.”

The yearbooks were handed out this morning so everyone is running around getting their friends to sign farewell messages. You have already signed more yearbooks than you ever imagined you would, Hyunjin’s friends considering you an acquaintance if nothing else. Signing for them was easy at least, lots of have a great summer and good luck with your future.

It is much harder coming up with something for genuine friends. While Hyunjin writes in Felix’s yearbook, you stare down at Hyunjin’s, trying to think of what to say to your fake boyfriend and real friend.

I hope you get everything you want and more, you finally write. I’m glad I got to know you. LUV U BOYFRIEND!!!!

He laughs at the last part when you show him. “I wrote the same thing in yours, loving girlfriend,” he says.

You laugh too. You crumple up some paper to chuck at Jisung who is still scribbling in your yearbook.

“What, are you writing a novel?” you ask. “Hurry up!”

“Patience!” Jisung says. “You can’t rush a masterpiece!”

You, Hyunjin, and Felix all laugh. Once more, you and Felix look at each other a little longer. You did not bother to write in his yearbook as no words could suffice to summarize anything.

He jokingly wrote Have a Great Summer : ) in yours.

Jisung finally finishes his apparent epic, smacking your yearbook onto your desk. You reach for it but he holds it shut, giving you a very serious look.

“You can’t read my message now, okay?” he says. “Read it at home. Alone. With violins in the background.”

You snort and roll your eyes but smile fondly at him.

“Okay, Jisung,” you say, “I promise to cherish it and read your masterpiece properly.”

“That’s all I ask,” Jisung says with a salute.

After school, Felix waits while you and Hyunjin have a quick word.

“Can you come to my house?” Hyunjin asks. “I want to talk properly. Not here.”

You know your father will agree but you need his permission as you cannot visit without an escort. Hyunjin knows you always have a bodyguard not too far from sight; he just does not know that Felix is one of them. Your father sends his own men on your excursions together.

Felix is never too happy when separated. He is cordial enough with your father’s security team but it is obvious that Felix thinks he is more skilled than them, often commenting on their weaknesses or blunders. You do not see things with his professional precision but you take his word for it. It is easy to believe Felix is the best. After all, it takes a whole team of people to replace him.

As predicted, your father agrees to let you visit Hyunjin for the evening. The Hwang mansion is nowhere near as big an estate nor are their security measures even close to your impenetrable, bulletproof, gilded prison, but it is still a secure location where you can be supervised. You go with a few of your father’s men, sharing a dry look with Hyunjin when you arrive at his house. He just smiles, used to it.

You have dinner with his him and his parents, smiling all the while, playing the part you have played all year. Your father’s men surround the house and you pass them in the backyard, making your way to Hyunjin’s old tree-house for some privacy. It leaves you within sight of your father’s men but well out of ear-shot.

You plop down on the little wooden balcony, sighing as you stare into the distance. The sun is setting over the neighbourhood, an orange sky dappled with rosy pinks, sparkling as it catches glass panes and ostentatious embellishments. The creaky old tree-house has a cozier feel, a world separated from the nonsense below.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says after a moment of shared silence, just watching the sunset. You look at each other and he smiles. “Having a real friend who knows me made a difference this year.”

The forthright sincerity is a bit much for you, seeing as you are not so good at communicating so plainly. You think you are improving, though. The old you would have drawn back, but you are able to smile at Hyunjin in return.

“I hope it helped,” you say.

“It did.” He moves a little closer just to be safe. “My father gave me control of my savings. My grandmother left me an inheritance and I needed the money.” His smile brightens his whole face in the rosy light. “I bought a house.”

“A house?” your voice breaks as you try contain your surprise in a whisper.

He laughs at your reaction, still smiling.

“Yes,” he says. “Well, it’s more like a cabin. It’s not much to look at. I needed it to be off the record, all in cash, and far away from here.”

You find the image of a small, homey cabin to be devastatingly beautiful. It could be the most dilapidated, ramshackle mess of a construction and you would still consider it perfect. You imagine sitting on a tiny porch with Felix, him smiling a big smile that crinkles his eyes and shows his teeth, his face sunny and golden and truly carefree, not just pretending.

You look at Hyunjin and see him staring into space with the same smile. You picture him with all the tension gone from his shoulders, laughing his wheezy laugh instead of forcing polite smiles. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you say, holding his hand. “That’s really wonderful.”

It brings him back to you. Some of the dreaminess leaves his expression but he is definitely still happy. He squeezes your hand back.

“I can’t go yet,” he says. “My parents would just… They’d find me. I’m their only son. It would be an embarrassment to them if I just left. When I think about what my father did to my friend just to teach me a small lesson…” You squeeze his hand in sympathy. You both know his parents did not have that boy beaten to keep him away, but to teach Hyunjin a lesson.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and says, “They won’t let me walk away easily. I have to do it right if I’m gonna be free.”

“How are you going to do that?” you ask, curious for his sake and even your own. The image of a far away cabin, untouched by trouble, is quickly nestling itself in some hidden cockle of your heart. You know that it will be difficult for him to leave but it would be next to impossible for you, so there is no sense in dreaming.

And yet… If Hyunjin can find a way, it makes you think that maybe certain dreams are not so impossible.

But he just sighs and looks away.

“I don’t know yet,” he says. “But I’m going to find a way.” He lets go of your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper. He passes it to you and you unfold it. You brow furrows as you read.

“Is this—”

“The city and address to the cabin,” he says.

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask in a small voice. Not for the first time, you curse your inconstant feelings, the quick rise to emotional heights in the matter of seconds.

This is Hyunjin’s future written in a single line on a single piece of paper, such a seemingly simple thing and yet it has the power to completely destroy him. This is his means of his escape, his only avenue of liberty, and he is showing you despite your proximity to some truly wretched forces. He trusts you more than he fears them.

“It’s an easy address to remember,” he says. “I know things are hard for you. I don’t know what will happen to you. I don’t even know what will happen to me. But I know it’s harder when you’re alone. I know having people make a difference because they made a difference for me. If you ever get out, if you ever need somewhere to start…”

You cannot think of what to say. No words seem sufficient in reply. You can only nod and take a deep breath. You look up into the fading light and blink away your tears.

“Thank you,” you say. “I hope if we meet again, things will be different.”

The address has a sweet rhyming lilt to it, easy to remember like he said. You read it over a few times, commit it to memory, then tear up the slip of paper beyond any salvaging.

You sit in the tree-house until the sun fully sets. Little lanterns flicker to life one-by-one in the darkening yard below. When the sky is a blue wash and the path below is twinkling gold, you sigh.

“I don’t want to go back,” you say miserably. You don’t want to see your father or that house. Even Felix will stir nothing but anguish right now, as you think about how you are trapped and he is shackled to you. You also don’t really want to linger here. Your uncontrollable emotional pendulum has swung back from its precipice. A few minutes ago, you were close to crying, and now you feel so empty and resigned that you think you will never cry again. I’m so broken, you think helplessly. You want someone to tell you otherwise but you don’t know how to ask.

Hyunjin leans back, peering into the yard. Your father’s men are getting a little complacent in their boredom, one of them yawning where he is slouched in a deck chair. They are not really paying attention to you. They figure there is no where for you to go, the main steps from the tree-house leading right into their path.

Hyunjin puts a finger to his lips. You follow him quietly across the tree-house, obscured in enough darkness that none of the security team notices. He leads you to a dangling rope ladder, hidden on the opposite side of the tree. He points across the yard to a little garden around a koi pond.

“There’s a gate just past the pond,” he whispers. “There’s a path that leads through the neighbourhood. I’ll stay up here until they say something, then I’ll tell them you went home.” He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. “You probably should go home,” he says, “but at least this way you’ll have a bit of time alone first.”

You smile back at him, patting the hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you say.

“See you around,” he says, then pushes back his hair and smoulders at you. “And don’t take the break-up too hard. I know I’m handsome but there will be other men.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, pushing his shoulder.

“Oh, please, I broke up with you,” you say. “I couldn’t keep up with your vigorous beauty routine.”

“This face is natural,” he says, laughing too. Then he nudges you and looks more serious. “Go now. They’re not paying attention.”

You briefly weigh your odds. You have not snuck out in a very long time so the punishment might be proportionate to your otherwise good behaviour. Felix is not here so he will not be blamed for your escape. And you will not be avoiding a reprimand no matter what you do, because your father is going to be angry that you and Hyunjin broke-up – especially without consulting him first. If you are going to be punished anyway, you might as well take a walk and clear your head first.

You grab Hyunjin’s hand one last time, giving it a squeeze as you smile. Then you climb down the rope ladder and hurry across the garden. You are out the gate and on the path before you know it.

The wealthy neighbourhood is quiet and brightly lit, every yard illuminated despite the quietude of the street. They are all so pristinely manicured, different yet identical magazine-ready mansions. They look a bit eerie with the darkness around them, like some alien recreation of what a home should look like. It makes you dread the return to your own house. You wonder how much time you have to yourself, if the car is going to pull up alongside you any second now to drag you home.

It is then you remember you do have one more place you can go. Ridiculously, stupidly, your emotions come back in full swing and you feel like crying again. Maybe it is because you have not snuck out in so long, so it is reminding you of the very first time you ever did. You went to the very place you are going now: Jisung’s house.

You always met there before darting off to a party together. Those parties never amounted to much. You and Jisung always talked a big game then spent most of the time in a corner or on a roof, but it was the only time you were ever away from the prying eyes of your father’s overprotective security. You passed many nights that way, complaining to your best friend, talking about nothing, then rushing home before your absence was noticed.

You remember the route to his side of town, catching a bus and getting off at a familiar stop. This neighbourhood looks very different than Hyunjin’s, a range of houses both new and old, rundown and fixed-up. They don’t waste energy lighting their yards unless they have guests. All the light is from the streetlamps and the little yellow squares of homey light beaming through their windows.

You have never actually been inside Jisung’s house. You would usually just meet him in the yard before continuing on. This is the first time you walk up the porch steps and ring the doorbell.

You start to shiver. The adrenaline or your escape kept you warm but now you can feel the chill of the evening.

You are looking around the block and shivering when the door opens. You turn and see an older woman with a scowl on her face. Even if you did not know Jisung lived with his single mother, you would recognize her because of her round cheeks and big eyes, much like him. Except where his face is usually open and friendly, she looks at you like a bug she wants to squish.

“What?” she asks.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” you say, somehow more intimidated by her than your father’s burly security team. “I’m friends with Jisung. I was just wondering if he’s home…?”

She takes a step back and screams his name into the house. You stand awkwardly in the doorway, waiting while thumps and bangs come from the upper level, then Jisung is hurrying down the stairs and skittering into view. You so seldom see him without a hat that it is momentarily jarring, his flop of dark hair going everywhere as he comes to a wide-eyed stop.

He gets over his surprise and smiles wide, saying your name with an upward what-the-fuck inflection.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping aside to let his mother pass. She says nothing more to you, disappearing into a side room.

“I, um, I don’t know,” you say, your emotions in turmoil again. You think about what Hyunjin said, about how having a friend made all the difference for him, and you suddenly realize how much you missed spending time with Jisung, how he was your first and only escape for so long. Tears are falling before you can stop them, a mess of everything with Hyunjin and Felix and your father, but you can only stammer a vague excuse, that you broke up with Hyunjin and wanted to talk to someone.

Jisung’s face is twisted up with surprise and sympathy. He says your name a few times and apologizes, guiding you into the house.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he says, taking your hand and leading you up to his bedroom.

“Won’t your mom mind?” For some reason, despite the mania of emotion inside you, that is what you fixate on.

Jisung just laughs dryly, shaking his head as he closes the bedroom door behind you. “Trust me,” he says. “She won’t care. Sit down.”

Jisung’s bedroom is undeniably him, music posters overlapping on the wall, stacks of journals on his desk and bedside table. It is a sprawling canvas of music and writing, not to mention litters of clothes and baseball caps. He pushes a pile of clothes off his bed so you can both sit, shoulder-to-shoulder. His bed is against the wall, under the window, cool stars twinkling down at you while his bedside lamp fills the room with warmth.

Your sobbing has slowed to a heaving stutter. Jisung hands you some tissues to wipe your eyes.

“I’m gonna kill that evil pretty boy,” Jisung says.

You hiccup and shake your head. “It was me,” you say. “Hyunjin is my friend, he’s a good guy, I just—” You start crying all over again, tearing the soggy tissues to shreds. Jisung leans over to fetch some more, his face scrunched up with concern while he watches you dab your sore eyes. “I’m just so messed up, Jisung,” you say. “You have no idea how much. I don’t even think I could properly love someone if I tried. I just make a mess wherever I go.”

“What! Yo! No. Why are you saying these things?” He looks equal parts bewildered and horrified, quickly wrapping an arm around you. You let your head fall on his shoulder, still wiping your eyes while he rubs your arm. “You are not messed up. You’re my best friend and you’re awesome. How could you have a best friend if you can’t properly love someone, huh?”

“I’m a bad friend though,” you say. “I bail on you all the time and I’m crazy and emotional and—”

“And you have an evil dad who locks you in the house, remember?” Jisung says. “Look, I know it’s not my business, I’d never make you say it, but from what you’ve told me… Dude, that guy fucking sucks.”

You cannot help but laugh at that. Jisung smiles, tweaking your nose.

“I’ve never been mad about that stuff,” he says gently. “Not at you. At your dick dad, sure. But that has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m emotional like him,” you say, tears slowing to a lip wobble. “I fight him all the time but maybe that just proves it. All that anger inside me.”

“Anger isn’t bad,” Jisung says. “It’s a feeling just like anything else. Some people do bad shit while smiling the whole time. Remember that guy who bullied Felix that time at school, and how you hit him with that book? Or other times you just snapped back at some stupid dick? That wasn’t bad!”

You don’t have an argument in you. You just exhale, dabbing under your eyes with the crumpled tissue. Jisung continues to rub your arm.

Your eyes drift and land on one of his baseball caps. It is perched on a stack of schoolbooks. You think back through the years, all those school days, all those stolen parties and late nights. It was a slow beginning, then one day you realized he was your friend, your first ever friend, that he was making you laugh and you had inside jokes and you wanted to spend more time with him. You weren’t afraid to be around him and you knew he wouldn’t make fun of you or push you or judge you.

You feel his arm around your shoulder now and realize you are not afraid of it. You can no longer remember the first time you hugged Jisung, probably because it wasn’t a kiss or anything romantic and so you did not really register it. It was a moment that arrived silently, without any heart palpitations or fanfare, no sweaty palms or hot cheeks. He would have just put his arm around you like he is doing now, asking for nothing in return for it.

You realize he must have been the first person to hug you. Your mother passed away when you were in infancy and the only family you ever knew was your father and his now-late father. They did not hug each other and they did not hug you. The only kind of love you knew was a violent, controlling one, and it made you into a distrustful, feral little child in return.

You have reflected before how it took a long time to warm to Felix. Bit by bit. Touch by touch. It would have taken longer if you had never known Jisung. He drew you out of your shell before anyone else did. You were able to reach for Felix because Jisung reached for you. You were able to befriend Hyunjin because Jisung befriended you.

You find yourself choking back a different sob, one conjured by the realization of just how much Jisung has done by being there. You understand what Hyunjin meant, about a friend making all the difference.

Before you can say anything, Jisung gently asks, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

You sit straight to look at him, brow furrowed.

“Your dad,” he says. “Things are… they’re bad, aren’t they? Worse than just not letting you hang out?”

Tears spill over again. You realize he is sniffling now too but holding back tears. He reaches across to wipe your face with his bare hands, swiping at your tears.

“I knew for a while,” Jisung says in a strained voice. “I could see the bruises. I didn’t know what to do. And I felt like I was letting you down because—”

He chokes on his breath. It gives you a moment to interject.

“You have nothing to feel bad about,” you say. You wipe his tears too, laughing at your equal dramatics. “Seriously, Jisungie.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling them off his face. He shakes his head like he is trying to shake his tears out of him. It seems to work. After another breath, he manages to speak clearly. “Do you remember our first conversation? At school?”

“About the weather?” you say, thinking back to the first time Jisung started a conversation.

“No, before that,” he says. “We sat beside each other for months but we never spoke. Then I missed a week of school because I made myself sick, all my stupid anxiety and whatever. My mom, you know, she tries but she… It’s just easier for her to ignore me most of the time, I think. I know she didn’t want kids. So I was taking care of myself. And I missed school sometimes because of it, but no one ever noticed when I was gone. It’s like I was invisible everywhere I went. And I got so sick that week that I just wanted to die. But then I went back to school and I got my homework from the teachers and then you—” He slaps his hands in his lap and looks at you, smiling a teary-eyed smile. “You were the first person to ask where I was and if I was all right. And you made a face like you didn’t believe me when I said I was. Then I started talking about the weather.”

“Oh,” you say, shredding the tissue in your lap for something to look at, trying to keep your tears at bay. “I didn’t remember that part.”

“You’re really good at seeing people,” Jisung says. “Even when they’re trying to hide or pull away. I don’t know how you think you can’t love when you’re like that. You know how to do it better than the rest of us who forget to even look.” He takes your hand again, drawing your eyes up to his. “But I’m looking back now, okay? And I’m gonna save you.”

It is so frank and sincere that it makes you laugh.

“I am!” he says, laughing through his own watery voice. “Don’t laugh at me! You saved me and now I’m gonna save you too.”

“It’s not that easy, Jisung,” you say. “You have no idea how crazy everything in my life is—”

“It is that easy,” he says. “You’ll see. I promise. And a best friend promise is a forever promise, okay?”

You cannot bring yourself to argue. You just nod, your bottom lip wobbling again.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “Now come hug me so you can’t see me when I start crying like a baby.”

You laugh but fall into his arms nonetheless. You sit under that window for a long time. At least, it feels like a long time. You don’t look at the clock and you don’t count the minutes. It is not the kind of hug that is leading to anything because he doesn’t want to kiss you and he has no other motivation. He just hugs you until you are both calm, when your tears feel silly and dramatic and your eyes are sore but you feel strangely refreshed.

“I need to go,” you say, to which he whines in complaint. You laugh. “Saving me will have to wait for another day. For now, if I don’t get home…”

As if summoned by that very thought, your phone erupts with buzzes and rings. You sigh and fish it out of the pocket of your shorts, watching messages from your father, his security, and Felix come flooding in. The others are making commands and demanding your whereabouts. Felix asks, Are you okay? Then, I have to turn on your GPS. They’re gonna come get you wherever you are.

You answer Felix, telling him you’re fine, that you’re with Jisung. He sends an emoji that manages to look very unimpressed, then just says, that’s what the boss gets for sending amateurs.

Your father’s men are far from amateurs but it is still funny when Felix insults them.

You turn your phone to silent after that, not bothering to answer the others. They will find you in no time with Felix’s help.

“I better go,” you say. “My dad is sending someone to pick me up. I’ll be fine tonight, I promise. But I’m gonna start walking because I don’t want you mixed up in any of this when they get here.”

Jisung tries to argue but lets you go when he sees how serious you are. He insists you take a hoodie for warmth so you do. You give him one last wave before you begin the trek down the block, hoping to get far away before your father’s men find you.

You have made it two blocks over when a sleek black car approaches. You start to walk towards it because there is no other reason for a car that nice to be slowing down on a street like this. Only when it gets closer do you realize you the make and model of the car is not one that your father usually uses, and you do not recognize the driver.

Your heart kicks up with a startled, frantic flutter as the car comes to a slow stop not far from you. You swerve, crossing to the other side of the street to avoid it. You try to act nonchalant, reassuring yourself that it is coincidence, that your father’s insanity is seeping into your brain and making you paranoid.

By the time you realize your anxieties are not baseless, it is too late. Not that you stood much of a chance in the first place.

You try running but there are three of them overall, one driver and two armed muscle guys. They chase you down and cover your mouth before you can scream. You kick and jostle but all of Felix’s self-defence lessons fly out of your brain in your panic. Your tears are all used up so you don’t cry. Even terror passes, leaving only nausea in its wake.

It doesn’t feel real, being shoved into the back of a car by men in black suits. This is not something real that happens. This is something your father threatens, something inane and melodramatic, something out of a movie or a book, not real life. Not your life.

Yet here you are, flanked by two strange men while the driver peels across the tarmac. They do not cuff or gag you, simply buckle you into a seatbelt and point a gun at you. You are shaking too bad to do anything useful anyway, and your voice feels clogged in your suddenly dry throat.

They are talking to you but it takes you a minute to register any word, everything fuzzy and out of focus.

“—just be a good girl and co-operate and everything will be fine.”

That is all you hear.

That and the name Miroh.

You try to calm yourself. You think rationally. Miroh has no reason to kill you or even torture you, as far as you know. In all likelihood, he is using you as leverage to get something from your father. That is why your father is always worried about you being taken. He doesn’t talk about damage to you, just his business.

You manage to calm the worst of your shaking. Then the one with the gun yanks on your hair and you jerk away violently.

“She’s better behaved than Miroh said,” he says with a laugh. “Might not even have to take a finger.”

You clutch your hands tightly together, glaring at him, but it just garners more chuckles. The driver laughs too, peering at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Too well behaved,” he suddenly says, eyes narrowing. “You check her pockets?”

It is then you remember your phone. Felix turned on your GPS. They can track where you are going. Felix can track where you are going. If nothing else, you trust that Felix can do something. Felix, Felix, Felix. It is all you can think about. Felix will find you. You will be back with Felix tonight, safe in your shared bed. You are always safe with Felix. You want to be there right now. You can’t even remember how you got here. Your whole day is turning into one blacked out nothingness, a dreary bleak empty before you found yourself in this car hurtling to god-knows-what fate.

The man finds your phone. You try to reach for it but then you feel the gun at your temple and your whole body locks up. You have seen a gun before, many times, but you have never had one pointed at you. You always thought you would be brave, having been around them your whole life. Maybe that is why you are afraid. Your body is trying to protect you, freezing you like it always does.

The man rolls down the window and throws your phone into the wind.

You sit back and close your eyes, willing this nightmare to end. You try to convince yourself that this is your father’s doing, that he is just trying to teach you a lesson. You wouldn’t even be mad. You just want to go home.

But there is no sign of your father’s security team. You pass dozens then hundreds of cars as you leave the residential area and take the highway. None of your father’s vehicles are among them. And how could they be? They can track as far as your phone and then they have nothing. There is no way for them to know where Miroh’s men are taking you. You have no idea what they want. You can’t even cry or panic because your body is shutting itself down in its panic. The periphery of your gaze is obscured in shadow. Their voices fade in and out, rarely directed at you anyway. They seem to know you will not answer. They have experience with this sort of thing.

Of course they do. Miroh is your father’s only equal. Your father does nothing by halves. Miroh would only send the best.

You leave the highway and turn onto a country road out of the city. Wherever they are taking you, it is far and they are unhurried. You have a long time to stew in your anxiety.

You can only see directly in front of you, through the windshield and the rear-view mirror. You stare, willing one of your father’s black cars to appear in it even though you know that will not happen. The only cars are civilian cars and even those begin to disappear as they take side roads to their own destinations. Soon it is just one other car trailing you at a distance. It is a beat-up civilian truck, not very big, a splotchy, peeling burgundy. The rims are muddy from frequent use and little washing.

It is ugly but it could be the last thing you see for a while. It makes you stare more intensely.

You are focussing so hard on the tiny details that you do not even notice it is speeding up. It goes from a distant spot to filling the rear-view in moments.

The driver mumbles a curse to himself, shaking his head and frowning.

“What’s this idiot doing?” he grumbles. “As if we don’t have enough to deal with. Now we got some drunk on the road.”

The truck is swerving, back and forth, then it speeds up and whips past your car. It startles the driver, making him veer a hard right as the truck goes left around him. He shouts a curse even though the other driver can’t hear, the truck already speeding away into the darkness. There are no street lamps on the country road so it completely vanishes, disappearing when it leaves the glow of your headlights.

There is a moment of quiet. A tunnel of light. Darkness around it.

The truck appears again in the middle of it, parked and blocking the entire road lengthwise. The driver shouts another curse and slams on the brakes to stop from barrelling into it.

The whole car lurches with the sudden halt. You snap forward and back again, held down by the seatbelt. The other two hit the seats in front of them, cursing as they fix themselves. The weapons guy drops his gun and it clatters somewhere on the ground of the vehicle. You watch him dive down, cursing to himself before he finds it.

“Get him out of the way!” the driver shouts, pointing to the stopped vehicle. The two men get out of the car, sounding more aggravated by the obstacle than afraid. The other one pulls a gun so they are both armed as they approach the vehicle.

The men circle the truck. You can see they are yelling and cursing again. They come stomping back over to the vehicle. Even with all the windows rolled up, you can hear him as he shouts, “There’s no one fucking there!”

“What!” the driver returns, pointing ahead. “He didn’t just disappear! Check the—”

He is interrupted by the rattle of unexpected thunder – what sounds like someone running up and over the car from behind. You both look up as if you can see through the car roof. The men outside react just as fast, guns raised. Shots are swiftly fired and you cover your ears, flinching.

The figure comes into view. It feels like your heart stops.

Felix takes a flying leap off the roof of the car and comes swinging into view. He lands on the shoulders of one of the men. In one sharp move, Felix snaps the man’s neck. When his body crumples, Felix jumps, tackling the other man and knocking his gun out of the way. He pulls his own gun out of his waistband and you don’t even have time to cover your eyes before a bullet shatters the man’s temple. That body falls too.

It was a matter of seconds. The driver scarcely has time to react. He is fumbling with the glove compartment when Felix walks up to the car and shoots his window. The bullet does not penetrate the glass but it fractures it, sending shards flying onto the man.

You shriek, your voice coming back to you. Felix smacks the broken window with the butt of the gun, shattering it completely. He unlocks the car, his face devoid of all emotion as he throws open the door and reaches in. He grabs the man by the scruff of his neck and repeatedly slams his head against the steering wheel, knocking him out cold.

He closes the door with a kick and tucks his gun back in his waistband.

Adrenaline completely takes over your body. You do not think or reflect, only feel and act. Felix steps toward the car to open your door but you are already pushing it open. He steps back when it flies past him, already breathing hard when you stumble out of the vehicle on shaky legs.

“Do you have any idea—” he starts, his deep voice breaking. “Any, any idea how worried I was? And those stupid, fucking, incompetent—”

He is pointing to nowhere, just gesticulating in his emotions. It all seems to pour of him, terror and agony, anger and helplessness. He is wearing casual clothes, ripped jeans, a sleeveless red flannel over a t-shirt. He was probably sitting at home when he jumped into action.

His dark roots are starting show in his golden hair. You will have to colour that for him, you think, giddily, half-mad.

“You could have died,” he is saying. “They could have—”

You throw your arms around his neck and crash into him. It is a collision of a kiss, more teeth than lips until you figure out to close your mouth.

Those men could not move him but you can. He backs up under the guiding push of your soft hands, walking, walking, walking, each quick backward step until you have him pressed up against the truck, your lips still locked. When you finally separate it is with a gasping, wet split. You stare at each other, taking in the reality of the other person. Him, with blood disappearing into the red threads of his flannel. You, alive, unharmed, right here in front of him with no one to stop him from kissing you again.

He grabs you by the neck and pulls you back to him, kissing you with an open-mouthed desperation that has you practically sobbing with need. He flips your positions, cupping the back of your head so you are not hurt when he pins you to the truck. You sink your fingers into his hair, wrapping a leg around his waist as he grinds against the softest spot of you. He licks into your mouth, making a rumbling noise of deep, heartfelt satisfaction that makes you throb.

His lips are pink and raw when he stops for a breath. You kiss the side of his face, clinging to him, making a pleading noise when he does not resume kissing you.

He steps back and points to the car.

“Get in the truck,” he says firmly. “This isn’t the time. Don’t argue.”

You have no desire whatsoever to argue. You climb into the passenger seat while Felix makes a phone call. You watch him through the window, running a hand through his hair, his mouth pink, his shirt blood-stained.

You have always known Felix was capable of this sort of thing, but seeing it is very different than imagining it. Before it was some nebulous concept of a person but now the reality of him collides with the boy who has been sharing your bed for years. This is the same boy who needed your help to tie his school tie. Cartoon-watching, computer-building Felix, with his dry wit and toothy smiles.

You are not sure what it says about you that you are not afraid of him, not even a little bit. Maybe it is because you are not surprised. Maybe it is something else. But the only thing you want right now is for him to put his arms around you.

He gets into the truck and sits there for a moment, just breathing as he looks down at his phone. A thought flickers across his eyes, a twitch of his brows, then he turns off the phone and tosses it into the backseat. The gun follows with a clatter. You look back at both then at him with shock.

Felix has never turned off that phone. It is always completely charged and within reach. The GPS cannot be tracked if it is off. Your father cannot reach him if it is off. It is never supposed to be off.

You stare at him, tracing his profile as he pushes his hair back then starts the car. You only look away when you pass the other vehicle, the unconscious driver still slumped over the wheel. You turn your head, watching the scene disappear into the darkness behind you.

“Your father’s men will clean it up,” Felix says, drawing your eyes back to him. He does not look away from the road, resolutely focussed despite the lack of traffic on the country road.

“You left one alive,” you say. “What if he wakes up?”

“Uhh, he’ll be lucky if he is conscious in two days,” Felix says with a scoff. His lips draw into that thin line. “Your father will want someone to interrogate.”

You look out the windshield and sigh. You feel like you have aged years tonight yet it also feels like none of this really happened. It seems impossible that moments ago you were staring through a different windshield, petrified.

Felix looks at you. You turn your head and meet his gaze, watching grief twist his features before he looks ahead again.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, gripping the wheel tight with both hands.

You shake your head, still facing him, studying him.

“I was thinking about you,” you say, the words escaping in a breathless slur. “It was the only thing that made me feel safe.” You find it easier to speak your feelings after everything. It’s like all that fear blasted through a barricade. You thought you might never see him again and all those feelings were trapped inside you. You cannot help but let them pour out now, like blood seeping from an open wound, your hand shaking as you reach across the console to touch the side of his face.

His breath stutters. He takes your hand and for a moment holds it, squeezing it in his. He does not look away from the road. Eventually he puts your hand in your lap, curling it around your thigh and squeezing, then he grabs the wheel again.

Your gaze drifts to the wheel then the overall truck. The rest of reality comes back to you in increments and you suddenly realize this is obviously not one of your father’s cars.

“Where did you get this truck?” you ask.

“I stole it,” he says.

“You stole a car?!” you shriek, voice naturally pitching up with surprise.

He looks at you incredulously.

“I just killed two men,” he says. “You’re worried about the car?”

“I don’t know!” You slouch in your seat, looking out the window. “Don’t talk to me, I’m traumatized.”

He shakes his head but laughs a little. You do not speak for a bit, the only sound the tires rolling over the gravel road. Then Felix sighs.

“They wouldn’t listen,” he says. “Your father’s, hmmm, ‘professionals’.” He rolls his eyes and clicks his jaw, clearly still pissed about it. “I knew it had to be Miroh. You were heading west to the highway when your GPS stopped. I knew where they’d be taking you. But your father’s geniuses thought you threw your phone and were running. But you wouldn’t do that, yeah. You want to be found. That’s why you run. You want him to care enough to chase you and bring you home.”

You look out your window, resting your head in your hand as rows of dark trees pass you by.

“Home,” you say. “Miroh. Not sure there’s going to be a difference in what’s waiting, is there?”

Felix says nothing to this. The gravel road comes to an end as you approach tarmac. Instead of turning left to return to the highway, Felix turns right. You look back through the window, confused, wondering if you mistook your location. But no, you are definitely driving further into the countryside.

“The highway is that way,” you say, looking at him. His whole body is tense, eyes locked on the road. “Aren’t we going home?”

“Yes,” he says, then turns up a different country road. “Eventually.”

You do not know what to expect with Felix. His emotional fluctuation is not as blatant as yours, but he does waver unpredictably, one moment leaning towards you and then pulling away. You do not know what he is planning and you do not ask. You simply stare through the window as you turn up a few more roads, getting further and further from the main road until you turn into a small gravel lane between some fields. Bushes surround the car on either side, the main road very far behind you.

Felix turns off the car but keeps both hands on the wheel, still staring intensely out the front window.

“Where are we?” you ask, squinting through the dark at the fields. It feels exceptionally quiet without the engine running.

“This cannot happen again,” Felix says.

He is still facing forward, concentrating on nothing that you can see. You look ahead then back at him, sighing with exasperation. If he drove you out here to just to lecture you some more…

“I know,” you say. “I shouldn’t have left in the first place. I’m sorry. I know it’s your job to—”

“This has nothing to do with my job,” he says. He shakes his head. “I— You—Do you understand how I— This is— This is reckless. Stupid. It cannot happen again, yeah? Do you get me?”

“I know,” you say. “And it won’t. I get it. No more running, I just—”

Your breath catches when he looks at you. There is so much heat in his gaze that you feel immediately flushed.

He undoes his seatbelt then reaches across the console and undoes yours. When you hear the click, it all registers. You reach for him as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls. This kiss is a crash as well, but a stumbling one, less vicious than thirsty. Arms get tangled in seatbelts but he manages to whip them aside. He guides you into his lap as you climb ungracefully over the console with all your shaking limbs.

You make a sound like relief when you are in his lap, chests touching, knees pressing into his hips, arms around his neck. His hands are under your borrowed hoodie, then under your shirt, palms splayed against the bare skin of your back as he kisses you with a wet open mouth, hungry and seeking, asking and taking.

He reaches to the side and fumbles for something. You squeal with surprise when the seat abruptly drops, your combined weight pushing it flat when he flips the lever. The surprise passes and he spills back, taking you with him. He yanks at your hoodie and you sit up to pull your arms through. Embarrassingly enough, you get tangled trying to remove it at the same time as your shirt. You get them both off, laughing shyly and feeling ridiculous with your ungraceful action.

He blinks up at you, his face full of much more wonder and affection than you think you merit. It is almost more embarrassing than your clumsiness.

Your awkward hand covers your collarbone but he takes that hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing you palm then your fingertips. You throb with the recollection of the last time he took your fingers in his mouth, except this time he doesn’t look away, all that heat centred on you.

He grasps your hips then slides his hands up your body. You wonder if other people feel like one big shivering mess at such simple touches. You blame it on today’s chaotic episode. For a moment, you were nothing and no one, floating in a bleak emptiness with no past or future. Just a bartering tool, business collateral, a thing sitting in a car for transport to be used by a different bad man for financial leverage.

Felix touches you and your body comes to life, all that humanity rushing back. You’re a person and so is he, flushed and excited, just a little messy but earnest. You find yourselves in a stolen moment in a stolen car, nothing yours but each other.

He palms your breasts through your bra then fumbles with the clasp, his usually dexterous hands suddenly jumpy. It makes you both laugh, tittering little sounds as you get it off and toss it aside. His calloused hands on your bare skin erases any lingering embarrassment.

Straddling his hips, you rock against him. The hard line of him is pushing at the fly of his jeans, as receptive and eager as you. You make similar sounds, soft low hums, used to keeping quiet. You remember you don’t have to restrain yourself so you moan when he cups you through your shorts, grinding the heel of his palm against the soft wet heat of you. You push his shirt up, running your hands over his chest, noticing a few scars but not lingering much right now.

You touch him like he touches you, hands wandering, working each other up until you are wild in your wanting. He makes a rough sound when you squeeze him through his jeans, then he is trying to work off your shorts while you unbutton his fly. You have to get off him to take the rest of your clothes off. His fingers are twitchy as they scrabble over his fly, unzipping then shuffling his jeans down his hips.

You are confronted with that moment of intention again, when his jeans are at his knees and his shirt is pushed up, when you are completely naked in a car in the middle of nowhere and climbing back on top of him, making the deliberate choice to do what you are doing. It is exhilarating. It is scary. You have big fears, about the repercussions in the world outside this vehicle, and you have little fears, like what if you are not good at this and you let him down after everything.

But that seems impossible when he looks at you like that, warm and desirous, breathing hard as he drags his fingers down your body and slips them between your thighs. You touch him too, marvelling in his sounds and faces, the flush of his cheeks, his mussed hair. With just his fingers inside you, he is already looking at you like you are a singular miracle.

It does feel miraculous. When you think of where you started, when you think of who you are, this seems so impossible. But you are here, losing yourself to his steady touch and tender gaze. You grab his wrist, instinctively seeking control when he works you up to an orgasm, making you clench around his fingers. You shudder on top of him, your head tipping back.

“Fuck,” he says, so low and guttural it hardly sounds like a word. Then he says softly, “Sweetheart.” This is accompanied with a long touch inside you, dragging his fingers so slowly, drawing out your orgasm until your whole body feels soft and pliant. You ache with the loss of him when he withdraws his touch, just his thumb rolling across that oversensitive nub of pleasure. Your skin already feels sweaty where you are touching, your hand curled around the length of him as you position yourself above him.

Even with his effort, it is a stretch and burn when you first sink down. You smack a hand on the roof of the truck, scratching your nails over it as you sit in his lap with him inside you.

He curses. His head falls back, his eyes closing.

“Is it okay?” you ask in a strained voice.

He replies, “Ahh…” then, “Uh!” then “Uhhhahh…” then finally, “Yes, yes. God yes.” He lifts his head and looks at where he is inside you, then he looks up at you. “Are you, uh, are you okay?”

His voice is a raspy thing, his face so raw with pleasure that you find yourself giggling in spite of yourself.

“Yeah,” you say on a breath. “Just… a lot.”

He sits up, careful not to jostle you too much. You still feel him moving inside you. When you clench, he makes a sound, but he is not distracted from his mission, cupping the back of your head and bringing you close for a kiss. You sink into it, your hands sliding onto his shoulders as his tongue slips past your lips.

He helps you move, both of you following base instinct and little else. It starts to feel deliriously good. You are light-headed from kissing, worked up from knowing he is as close to you as he possibly can be.

You move slowly, hands roaming over each other. You get his flannel off and toss it into the passenger seat. Then he braces himself to move his hips better, holding you steady. You touch the roof so you don’t hit your head, rolling your hips to meet him. It’s good but not enough and soon he is turning you over, laying you on your back under him. He has to separate from you to get comfortable.

You whine, touching yourself, and he smacks his head hard against the roof with surprise. You laugh, slapping a hand over your mouth while he winces and rubs his head.

“Are you okay?” you ask, still giggling. Fortunately, he chuckles, wincing again for show before sighing.

“Never better,” he says, and takes off his shirt. You are both perspiring and not just from exertion, the car trapping all your combined heat and breathing. The windows have completely fogged over and it shields you completely. You have never felt more safe. You eagerly open your legs to him as he settles on top of you and finds his place again.

You wrap around him, whimpering and moaning and sighing when he finds a rhythm in this position. He cradles you in his arms, rocking into you until you are dizzy with it. He somehow feels deeper and deeper with every motion. He kisses your chest and throat, up to your ear, across your face, your mouth. You kiss him back, hooking your ankles behind his back and pulling him hard against you like you want more.

“Got you,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “Got you, sweetheart.”

He makes you come again, tears springing to your eyes from the sensation of it all. When his breathing gets frantic and his hips erratic, you let him go. You breathe hard under him as he sits back and grabs his discarded flannel, coming into that.

He tosses it aside after, then runs his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you. You slowly sit up and lean in for one more kiss. He obliges, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You want to wrap around him again, hold him to your chest and lay there until you are both ready for more.

You take what you can get. This was dangerous, but you have no regrets. Even when you are both dressed and in your own seats, you feel enflamed and alive and glowing.

He tosses his flannel out the window, leaving it on the ground behind you. You roll down the windows and return to the highway. It is a long drive home.

Your father does not punish you. He does not punish Felix in place of you. The house is deathly silent when you arrive home. Your father is in his office and Felix takes you there to see him.

Your father does not even look up from his book. After a moment he asks, “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head but he isn’t looking at you, so you are forced to find your voice and answer, “No.”

“Good,” he says and turns the page to his book.

You are teetering on the edge of panic all over again, waiting for him to erupt, to throw something at you, to grab you by the hair and give you a beating worse than anything ever before. But he just turns another page to his book, so it’s you that erupts.

“It wasn’t my fault,” you say in a frantic rush. “Hyunjin and I broke up and I was upset so I wanted to see Jisung, that’s it, I just wanted to see my friend. It’s just because—”

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from running your mouth when you don’t need to do so. It succeeds in silencing you, your voice breaking. You swallow down a sob.

Your father finally lifts his head. His expression is completely blank. There is no trace of anger, no sadness, no guilt. You do not know what to do when he is like this. He is giving you nothing worth a reaction so all your emotions bubble inside you with nowhere to go, spilling over and scalding you like a boiling pot.

“Go to bed,” your father says. “What’s done is done.”

It is not surprising that you have a nightmare, waking in a fit that even Felix cannot comfort. Your half-asleep mind panics when he grabs you, forgetting who he is. Only when he repeats your name in that sweet, low voice do you remember yourself. You collapse against him, shaking while he strokes your back and talks gently to you, lulling you back to sleep. It remains fitful and uneven but you get through the night.

You are expecting the punishment to come in the morning but your father does not speak to you even though he is in the house. You do not see him all day. You have another restless night of bad dreams, Felix comforting you as best he can. You wake the next morning thinking that surely, the punishment would come today. There is no way your father is letting you get away with this. He is planning something, something big, something you will never forget.

But your father is gone and so is the security team. Felix phones him and your father informs him that he had some impromptu business to take care of, that he would be gone for the next week.

You are driving to school on Monday morning when Felix says, “Maybe he thinks it was punishment enough on its own.”

“Do you really believe that?” you ask.

Felix does not answer because he knows how far-fetched that is. He knows your father as well as you do.

There are only a couple more days of school. This late in the semester, the lessons are completed, exams being graded. Everyone is gearing up for graduation, signing yearbooks, taking pictures. Classes offer more down time than work, letting students mingle. It is easy few handful of days, the most exceptionally fun days of the whole year.

Jisung would not miss it. And he would not abandon you after your conversation. When he is missing from school on Monday, you are immediately filled with horror.

Felix looks at you when he realizes Jisung is missing, doing his best to calm you with his eyes.

“He wouldn’t,” you murmur, just loud enough for Felix to hear. “Tell me he wouldn’t…”

Felix says nothing. He knows your father as well as you do.

You try phoning Jisung at various intervals through the day but it keeps going straight to voicemail. Jisung is not great at keeping his phone charged so this is not unusual on its own, but you cannot shake the dread in the pit of your gut.

Before the day ends, you all but throw yourself at Felix. All it takes is one teary-eyed please for him to nod, understanding.

You have the driver take you to Jisung’s house. Felix steps out of the car and calls your father, needing to report your diversion from routine, but also hopefully gleaning some intel into your father’s potential involvement. Meanwhile, you run up the porch and frantically bang on the door, not stopping until Jisung’s mother whips it open.

“What?” she snaps. “Why are you banging— oh it’s you.”

“Where is he?” you ask. “Is he sick? Can I see him?”

“He’s just at the hospital,” she says like this is no big deal at all, even while you are sweating through your clothes with anxious terror.

“The hospital?” you ask. “Why is he—”

“Calm down! He just had an allergic reaction,” she says. “Stupid child ate peanuts and didn’t have his pen. He’ll be fine.”

“Can you tell me which hospital?” you say. Some tension leaves your body with this revelation but even so, you will not feel truly at ease until you can see that Jisung is safe with your own two eyes.

His mother tells you where to find him and you thank her while she closes the door in your face. You are feeling lighter already, heart bursting with light when you spin and jump off the porch.

You rush up to Felix, eager to report your good news, but you draw to a slow stop at the look on his face. This is not his professional indifference, listening to commands, but instead an expression of obvious remorse. He looks apologetic, eyes full of pity, as he extends his arm, handing you the phone.

You press the device to your ear, heart skipping beats in the worst way.

“Hello?” you say.

“After everything I have done for you,” your father says. “After everything I have given you. After my leniency despite your repeated abominable behaviour. For you to end things with an appropriate boy to go chasing after some no-count, miscreant loser with no future and no—”

“What are you talking about?” you say. “I don’t even know—”

“You stupid little—” You can picture his face, mouth frothing with rage, brows pinched in fury. You can picture him catching his breath as he slams a hand on his desk. “Do you think I couldn’t see it all over your face? That you were out whoring around with that nobody boy you call a friend? I could see your commitment to the Hwang boy was a front but I foolishly thought you were making an effort to improve yourself. How long have you been deceiving me? Fronting with the Hwang boy while you run around with your schoolboy behind my back?”

He thinks you’re dating Jisung. He thinks this is all because of Jisung. You cannot tell him the truth without ruining your life, Felix’s life, and Hyunjin’s life.

You scramble for a defence, a denial, but memories of you and Felix flood your mind, the panic of that night takes over you, and soon you are freezing up.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” you eventually manage, your voice quivering with the rest of you. “Please, Jisung is completely innocent, he’s just my friend, he—”

“Please,” your father says derisively. “You have the audacity to say please to me now. To ask for my permission now. You listen to me and you listen well. What I did to this boy was nothing. Having an allergen slipped into his food was a warning to you. Your one and only warning, a warning I am only giving you because I prefer not to deal with civilian messes when I can avoid it. But I whole-heartedly assure you, that if I find out you are in contact with this boy, if I find out you are even thinking about looking in his direction, it is over for him. I will have him shot in the fucking head in front of you if that’s what it will take to get through to you.”

You are bombarded with the image of Felix shooting those men. Suddenly, you imagine it is Jisung across from him instead. You look at Felix with a frantic, terrified look. Your voice is weak when you say, “Dad, please, he’s—”

“Do not talk to back me!” he screams. “You spoiled little slut! He’s trash, is what he is! Do you know what kind of life I have given you? How dare you insult me this way. How dare you throw it all on that waste of a person. You go to that boy and you tell him to stay away or it will be the end of him. Do you understand me? Say yes or so help me—”

“Yes,” you say, sucking in a hard breath to keep your tears at bay. “Yes, fine, just leave him alone. Don’t hurt him, please.”

Your father hangs up without another word.

You look up at Felix. He takes the phone, sucking in a breath of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” you say.

Jisung is sitting up in his hospital bed when you find him. His phone is a dead brick sitting on his bedside table, uncharged as anticipated. He is sipping from a carton and watching television when you walk into the room, surprising him. His face lights up with delight and he chokes on his drink, dribbling a bit down his front.

You hurry to his side, worried, but he just laughs and wipes his chin.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” he says. “It was just a flare-up. They’re just keeping me for observation to make sure I don’t, you know, suffocate and die in my sleep.” He says this like it is ridiculous and funny but you are overwhelmed with the image of Jisung lying still in this bed, all the life and colour of your wonderful and vibrant best friend drained to nothing.

Jisung can see something is wrong. The humour falls from his expression, replaced with concern as he sees you well up with tears.

“Hey,” he says, softer. “I said I’m fine. Don’t worry. Is this about something else? Are you okay?”

You are not crying but you can feel the emotion in your throat. If you speak, you think it will pour out in a flood. You can only sit there, perched on the edge of his bed, staring at him. He still looks strange without his hat. Although he is joking around, there is an admitted pallor to his complexion. He is on the mend but he has clearly been very ill for a day at least.

That pallor and serious expression look so wrong on his face. When you think of Jisung, you think of happiness, the first burst of sunshine in your life after growing up in shade. You think about his awkward laughter during your first conversation, his many hugs, his stupid jokes, his winks and encouragements. You did not know how to love anyone or anything until you met him.

In your silence, he looks around, spotting Felix hovering in the doorway.

“Felix!” he says. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“Hey,” Felix says gently. He looks at you, sees your downturned face as you gather yourself. He smiles at Jisung with his best distracting grin, like everything is fine, like everything has always been fine. “Just saying bye, man,” Felix says.

“Bye?” Jisung asks. “Where are you going? Right before grad? Not back to Australia, are you?” Jisung looks at you and pets your head. “Is Felix leaving? Is that why you’re upset?”

“No, Jisung,” you say, forcing your voice. You shake your head. “No, it’s not Felix. I just…” You look up and meet his eyes, so big and concerned. You see him at age twelve, thirteen, fourteen, all those years he coaxed you out of your shell and ran around with you. He was the first person to look back at you, to see something worth reaching for. You want to touch his face and hug him, but you are certain if you start any of that, you will not be able to do what you need to do. “Jisung, I’m leaving,” you say. “I won’t be able to see you again.”

“What?” he asks, confused for just a moment before he shakes his head and frowns. “This is about your dad, isn’t it? Is he doing something? You have to let me help you—”

“Jisung, you can’t help me—”

“Yes, I can—”

“You can’t—”

“Then who’s going to?” he demands.

“Not you!” Anger and sadness combine and you look away, staring at the crinkled juice carton on his bedside table. He is here because of you. “Jisung, he made you sick. He will try to kill you.”

“What?” Jisung asks, barely above a whisper. “H-how? I don’t even—”

“He has professionals,” you say, meeting his bewildered gaze again. “And he can do much worse than this.”

Jisung opens and closes his mouth, failing to find the words, then finally he shakes his head and says, “No. I don’t care. I’m not scared, I’m—”

“I’m scared,” you say. “Jisung, I don’t want to see you ever again, because if something happened to you—” You cannot conceive of a world where this is no Han Jisung. You would not be the person you are now if he had never existed. You would not have any emotions at all. For the first time, you do not curse your sensitive feelings, rather you relish in feeling them at all, that you have a friend that it hurts to lose. “Jisung, please,” you say. “Don’t make this harder for me. I’m going to go and we can’t see each other again. The best thing you can do for me is have a good life.”

Jisung starts crying, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he says. “What about you? What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You laugh dryly, looking aside. “It would have been better for you if you never knew me.”

“You already know that’s not true,” he says in a small voice.

You are certain his face is full of pain but you cannot bring yourself to look at him again. You try to say the word goodbye but it gets stuck in your throat, so finally you just stand up to leave.

He grabs your arm, tugging you back. You stare at the bed, not at him.

“I said my promise was forever,” he says. “I don’t care if it’s in five years, or ten years, or fifty. I know I’m not—I know I can’t do much but—if you need me—”

You just nod, scrunching your face to stop the tears. It does not work. You pull your arm away and he lets you go, his hands falling helplessly limp to the bed. You stare at the ground as you walk away, not looking back at him, not even looking at Felix.

You are standing in the doorway when Jisung says your name one more time, barely more than a whisper yet stopping you faster than all your father’s screaming.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he says.

You look up at Felix. You know when you leave this place, you are going to take his hand. When you climb into bed tonight, you are going to wrap your arms around him and let him hold and comfort you. You are going to soothe his nightmares the way he does yours. You are going to carve out a corner of light and happiness in your otherwise dark life. You are going to do that because you know how, because having a friend made all the difference.

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, wiping your face. “You did save me.”

You do not stop again, walking past Felix and into the corridor. He follows swiftly behind, laying a hand on your lower back then taking your hand. You squeeze it and he squeezes back. You let him guide you out of the building, your vision blurry. He knows there is nothing he can say to help right now, but he touches you gently and helps you along. When you get home, he trails behind you as you trudge up the stairs to the bedroom.

“Can I do something?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not right now, thank you.” Your voice is still weak. “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be here.”

You nod and continue up the stairs, not even sure what your plan is right now. It feels strange to go about your usual routine but that is what you do, your body carrying you automatically through each task, changing clothes, putting your uniform away, washing your face.

You sit at your desk and decide you might as well go through your stack of school supplies. You have been dumping textbooks and notebooks here as the semester ends. You sort the empty notebooks from the used ones, the books you will never re-read from the ones to shelve. You find your yearbook in the middle of it all. You realize you never actually read Jisung’s message.

You open the book, skimming the other messages from other students. Lots of Have a Great Summer from Hyunjin’s friends, but a few cute personalized memos too. Felix’s joking scrawl is at the bottom of a page and it makes you smile and shake your head. You smile again when you read Hyunjin’s note: Our lives will not be meaningless. He ended it with a playful, LOVE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND!!

You flip through the book. You were not in any clubs or on any teams so there are very few pictures of you, just your posed portrait and one photo on a collage page – you, Jisung, and Felix awkwardly smiling as the yearbook photographer snapped a picture of you at lunchtime.

You swallow. You already know turning to the last page is going to make you cry. You could avoid it. You could close this book and never think about it again. Your father would never walk into any situation that would deliberately compromise his mental and emotional integrity. He would deride you for doing so. You used to think he was right, that your feelings were a weakness.

You realize your feelings make him weak, not you. He wants you to be a robotic doll, devoid of feelings, blindly obedient, but you are not. You will never strive to be that.

You flip to the final page, filled with Jisung’s writing. You smile and cry and curse out your father, then close the book and hug it to your chest, your heart beating steadily where you cradle it close.

To the bestest most awesome girl in the world (not just saying that because you’re the only girl I know) from the bestest most awesome boy in the world (including your evil boyfriend, sorry!)

Usually it’s easy for me to put my thoughts in writing but I’m drawing a blank. How can I tell you in words how important your friendship is when that friendship is made up of more than words? I never thought I’d be someone who runs off to parties or sneaks out onto rooftops, and I never thought I’d have so many friends. Thank you for giving me the world. I hope we can keep exploring it together. I know no matter what, we’ll still be friends, even if we’re far away after school ends. Our parents might suck and we might be kinda weird as hell, but we have each other and that counts for something. We loved each other first so no matter what else happens that will be always true. Boyfriends will come and go but your best friend is forever!! And you know I’ll be ready with a shovel if anyone breaks your heart. I know it’s sappy to say, but it’s always safe with me.

Times might be hard and we might drift apart, but I know we’ll see each other again and it will be like we never left. Take care of yourself if I’m not there. Keep fighting!!! Nothing will be impossible for you.

Your best friend now + always,

Han Jisung ♡

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

1K notes · View notes