#i've been meaning to write a dance au for a long time

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

[flwrstqr]

★ 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — NRK

preview. there are two sisters: yu karina, a popular girl who's eager to date, and yu y/n, an antisocial girl who is totally uninterested in dating. their overprotective father finally agrees to let karina date, but only if y/n does too. to solve this problem, new student eunwoo, who has a crush on karina, teams up with daeho, a wealthy but narcissistic student. daeho pays the school's bad boy, nishimura riki, to take you out on a date. at first, you are a bit resistant, but soon you find yourself gradually falling in love with riki, who starts to genuinely care for you.

meet the cast. bad boy!riki x antisocial!fem reader (feat yeh shuhua from gidle, yu karina from aespa, choi soobin from txt, new ocs)

genre. high school au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, crack, ten things i hate about you based, one sided enemies, medium fic

word count. 7k+

warnings. cursing, kissing, profanity (no nsfw or smut), riki just dating yn just for money at first, smoking, parties, drinking, yn being drunk, yn just being very very independent and stubborn, fighting, punching

danielle's note 𖥔 yes i'm cooking something good again... sorry for writing long/medium fics recently ... i've been obsessing over rom coms again and it gives me a new idea each time. LIKE i dont mean to but it just happens ☹️ but anyways this is for my no.1 fav riki stan (LOVE U)

���⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀all-american bitch by olivia rodrigo, boyfriend by ariana grande, kill bill by sza, the perfect pair by beabadoobee, sunny day by beabadoobee, hot to go by chappell roan

YOU'RE WALKING THROUGH THE BUSTLING HALLS OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL, the familiar scent of old textbooks and cleaning supplies filling your senses. Your best friend Shuhua is by your side, chatting away about the latest gossip.

Shuhua glances at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re on a mission again, aren’t you?”

You rip a particularly flyer advertising the upcoming dance off the wall. “Someone has to clean up this mess,” you reply, crumpling it in your hand.

Shuhua laughs. “You’re such a rebel. Why do you hate these so much anyway?”

You shrug, “They’re just clutter. Besides, half of these events are pointless.”

Shuhua sighs dramatically. “You’re impossible. What about the spring festival? It might be fun.”

You give her a sideways glance. “You know I’m not into those kinds of things.”

She grins, linking her arm with yours. “That’s why I’m here, to drag you out of your comfort zone.”

You can’t help but smile at her persistence. “Good luck with that.”

EUNWOO WALKED THROUGH THE BUSTLING SCHOOL HALLWAYS, his eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. His guide, Soobin, pointed out different rooms and introduced him to a few students along the way.

“Over there is the science lab,” Soobin said, gesturing to a door on their left. “And that’s the library. You’ll probably spend a lot of time there; it’s pretty nice.”

As they continued down the corridor, Eunwoo’s gaze wandered until it landed on a girl standing by her locker, surrounded by a group of friends. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down her back and a smile that seemed to light up the whole hallway.

Eunwoo nudged Soobin and nodded toward the girl. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

Soobin followed Eunwoo’s gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Yu Karina,” he explained. “She’s pretty popular around here. Smart, talented, and everyone wants to be her friend.”

“She’s… wow,” Eunwoo said, unable to take his eyes off her. “She’s really something.”

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Soobin agreed. “But there’s one thing you should know. Her dad is super strict. He doesn’t let her date anyone. So, if you’re thinking of asking her out, you might want to reconsider.”

Eunwoo’s heart sank a little, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to Karina’s presence. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said, tearing his eyes away from her and back to Soobin.

“No problem,” Soobin replied with a reassuring smile. “Oh, and by the way, I heard she’s looking for a French tutor. She mentioned it to a friend earlier.”

Eunwoo’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” he exclaimed.

Soobin looked at him, puzzled. “You know how to speak French?”

“No,” Eunwoo admitted with a grin. “But I’m gonna after this.”

YOU'RE CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, ENGROSSED IN YOUR BOOK. Upstairs, you hear your sister, Karina, moving around. The front door opens, and your dad walks in.

Karina descends the stairs with a hopeful look on her face. "Dad, can I go out tonight with Daeho?" she asks, her tone carefully respectful.

Your dad doesn't miss a beat. "No, you can't go. There are two rules in this house. One, you can't date until you graduate. Two, you can't date until you graduate."

Karina groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Come on, Dad, that's not fair!"

He folds his arms and gives her a stern look. "Rules are rules, Karina. And you know why we have them."

Karina sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. "This is so unfair," she mutters.

Your dad pauses, considering something. Then, unexpectedly, he says, "Fine, Karina. You can date... but only if your sister finds a date."

Karina's jaw drops. "What? That stupid girl? She can never find one! She's always in her little corner reading books and obsessing over her little bands!"

You roll your eyes, barely glancing up from your book.Without a word, you close your book and stand, walking out of the room, leaving Karina to her whining and your dad to his lecturing.

As you start climbing the stairs, you hear Karina shout in frustration, "Can you just find a stupid retard who can take you on a date so I can date?"

KARINA AND EUWNOO SAT AT A TABLE IN THE QUIET CORNER OF THE LIBRARY, French textbooks and notes spread out before them. Eunwoo was doing his best to tutor Karina, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. She tapped her pen against the table, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window.

“So, uh, for our next class,” Eunwoo began hesitantly, trying to regain her focus, “how about we get some, uh, French food? On Saturday, at 6 pm?”

Karina snapped back to attention, with a huge grin her face. “Are you asking me out?”

Eunwoo scratched the nape of his neck, clearly flustered. “Listen, I know your dad doesn't let you date, but if it’s for French class…”

Karina cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute, my dad just came up with a rule that I can date if my sister does.”

Eunwoo's face lit up with a hopeful smile. “Oh, then that’s great—”

“No, it’s not great,” Karina interrupted again, exasperation in her voice. “She’s a total loser. Well, she used to be popular, but things changed.” She shrugged dismissively.

Eunwoo frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, uh, I can go find someone that would be willing to date her—”

Karina's eyes widened, and she leaned forward excitedly. “Wait, really? That would be great!”

“Yeah—” Eunwoo started to reply, but Karina was already on her feet.

“Oh my god, thank you! Gotta go, bye!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the library, leaving Eunwoo sitting there.

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN WANDERED AROUND THE CAMPUS, their mission clear but their progress slow. Finding the perfect guy to date you was proving to be more challenging than Eunwoo had anticipated. He approached student after student, but each one turned him down, unwilling to go out with someone they considered too independent or too stubborn.

Finally, they found themselves in the science lab, Eunwoo ready to give up. His shoulders slumped as he glanced around the nearly empty hallways.

Then, Eunwoo's eyes landed on someone unexpected. Nishimura Riki, the school's notorious bad boy, was leaning against a lab table, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

Soobin noticed Eunwoo's gaze and quickly shook his head. "The thing is, he's the bad boy of the school," Soobin explained, lowering his voice. "He smokes, he commits crimes, and someone even told me he sold his own liver for a speaker in the dark markets."

Eunwoo stared at Riki,"That's our guy," he declared with a determined nod.

Soobin looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious? He’s the worst possible choice!"

Eunwoo set his jaw. "Sometimes, the worst choice is the only choice we have. Besides, we don’t have any other options left."

AS THEY WALKED AWAY FROM RIKI, Eunwoo turned to Soobin, a worried expression on his face. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Soobin shrugged. “Honestly? Probably not. But I’ve got another idea.” A smirk spread across his face. “I have someone in mind who might be willing to ask Riki.”

During lunch, Soobin led Eunwoo over to a table where Daeho, the narcissistic, rich, and popular boy, was holding court with his friends. Daeho looked up as they approached, his expression a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance.

“Hey, Daeho,” Soobin began smoothly, “you like Karina, right?”

Daeho raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, I’ve got a plan,” Soobin continued. “Karina can’t date until her sister dates. So, you need to hire a guy who’ll go out with her.”

Daeho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And who would that be?”

Soobin pointed across the cafeteria to where Riki was sitting, eating with his friend. “That guy.”

Daeho followed Soobin’s gaze and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Him? I heard he ate a whole live duck.”

Soobin nodded, unfazed. “Except for the feet and beak. Look, he’s a full investment.”

Daeho glanced at Riki again, skepticism written all over his face. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Soobin clapped Daeho on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

As they walked away, Eunwoo whispered to Soobin, “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Soobin grinned. “We’ve got the rich guy on board now. What could go wrong?”

Eunwoo sighed, still feeling uneasy about the plan but hopeful that somehow, it would all work out.

RIKI WAS OUT ON THE FIELD, smoking and lazily watching the soccer game. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass. As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed Daeho approaching him, looking uncharacteristically determined.

Riki raised an eyebrow as Daeho stood before him. "Do I know you?" he asked, clearly unimpressed.

Daeho sighed, trying to remain patient. "Listen, you see that girl?" He pointed across the field to you, where you were playing soccer with an intense focus, your hair tied up in a ponytail as you skillfully kicked the ball across the whole field.

"That's Yu Y/N," Daeho continued. "I want you to go out with her."

Riki let out a laugh, the idea seeming ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

Daeho clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Look, I can't take out her sister until Y/N starts dating."

Riki smirked, shaking his head. "That's a really good story," he said sarcastically. "But not my problem." He stood up, ready to walk away.

"What if I add some money to this?" Daeho offered, desperation creeping into his voice.

Riki paused, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. "How much?"

"$30?"

Riki scoffed. "Movies, that's like $15. Popcorn, that's $45, and then the ride back home, that's like $25. So we're looking at about $75."

Daeho frowned, realizing he was being haggled. "Take it or leave it."

Riki gave him a challenging look. "Fine, $50?"

Daeho hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Deal."

Riki smirked, pocketing the money. "Alright then, you've got yourself a deal." He turned his gaze back to the field, watching you for a moment. "This should be interesting." As Riki walked away, Daeho couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief.

AS THE FINAL WHISTLE BLEW, signaling the end of the game, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and grabbed your water bottle. Just as you were about to head off the field, Riki approached with a confident stride.

"Hey, princess," he greeted with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes, pausing just long enough to respond. "Need anything?"

Riki didn't miss a beat. "I'll pick you up on Friday."

"Oh right, Friday," you replied sarcastically, the skepticism clear in your tone.

"Well, I'll take you anywhere you like," he offered, trying to sound accommodating.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again. "Yeah, super fun. Listen, you probably don't even know my name."

Riki's smirk didn't falter. "I know a lot more than you think."

"Oh, very doubtful," you retorted, walking away with a wave of your hand.

Riki stood there, scoffing in shock, watching you go. For the first time, he realized this might be more challenging than he imagined it to be.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you found yourself at a local record store, browsing through the vinyls and picking out your favorite albums. After paying, you stepped outside with a bag full of records, only to see Riki leaning casually against your car.

"Not a bad car," he remarked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so now you're following me?"

He shook his head, pointing towards the nearby mart. "I was over there and saw your car, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi."

"Oh, well then, hi," you retorted, making your way to the driver's seat.

"Not a talker?" he asked, watching you with amusement.

You shrugged, your patience wearing thin. "Listen, I'm not interested."

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Riki teased, trying to gauge your reaction.

"Why would I be?" you shot back, giving him a challenging look.

"Because you want me," he replied, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin.

You laughed, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "Haha, I want you so bad, baby."

With that, you motioned for him to move. "Now, won't you move?"

Riki stepped aside, still taken aback by your bluntness. You got into the driver's seat and started the engine, leaving him standing there in stunned as you drove away. As he watched your car disappear down the road, he couldn't help but feel that it might a bit tough to get you.

THE NEXT DAY, Riki was leaning against a locker, a casual look on his face. Daeho approached him, glancing around to ensure they weren't being overheard.

"How's the plan?" Daeho asked, his voice low.

Riki smirked. "I just upped my price."

Daeho raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "By how much?"

"$100," Riki replied confidently.

Daeho hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another $25, placing it into Riki's hand. "I expect some results."

Riki pocketed the money, "You'll get them."

With that, Daeho turned around and walked away, leaving Riki standing there, thinking of what to do next.

LATER THAT DAY, Riki was hanging out near the bleachers when Eunwoo and Soobin approached him. Riki glanced up, noting their determined expressions.

"Hey, Riki," Eunwoo started, "we heard about your little arrangement with Daeho."

Riki raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Soobin and I want to help," Eunwoo continued. "I like Karina and you know her sister, yn, needs to get a date first."

Riki leaned back, "What's in it for me?"

Soobin stepped forward. "Well you know, we can do some research about her. No money involved, just a mutual benefit."

Riki smirked, nodding. "Alright, deal."

Eunwoo grinned, sharing a knowing look with Soobin, "and we have a perfect opportunity for you to ask her out."

"What would that be?" Riki raises his eyebrow.

"The upcoming party hosted by Bogey Lowenstein."

"i'll think about." Riki smirked as he walked off

LATER THAT WEEK, Daeho spotted Karina by her locker. With a confident look, he approached her, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey, Karina," Daeho called out, leaning casually against the lockers.

Karina looked up, slightly taken aback by his presence. "Oh, hey, Daeho. What's up?"

"I was thinking," Daeho began, "you should come with me to Bogey Lowenstein's party this weekend."

Karina raised an eyebrow, "Really? And why's that?"

Daeho shrugged, flashing a cocky grin. "Well, it’s the biggest party of the year. Wouldn't you want to go with the guy everyone’s talking about?"

Karina closed her locker, "A party?"

Daeho chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, Karina. It'll be fun. Besides, you deserve to be seen with someone who can actually keep up with you."

Karina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, Daeho. I'll go with you,"

KARINA WALKED ALONGSIDE EUNWOO VENTING HER FRUSTRATION. "Ugh, I can never go to that party... My dad is gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Eunwoo thought for a moment. "Okay, well, I got a plan. I set your sister up with a boy, but things aren't going that great."

Karina sighed deeply, feeling defeated. "I'm never gonna get to go..."

Eunwoo glanced at her, determination shining in his eyes. "Okay then, tell me what your sister likes."

Karina rolled her eyes. "She said before she would die before dating someone who smokes. And her types are 'pretty boys,' which I don't even know what that means."

Eunwoo nodded, taking mental notes. "Anything else?"

"How am I supposed to know my crazy sister's little mind?" Karina replied, exasperated.

Eunwoo sighed, realizing the complexity of the situation. "Well, nothing has worked so far. We have to go behind enemy lines here."

LATER THAT DAY, Karina and Eunwoo found themselves sneaking into your room, carefully rummaging through your drawer.

"Aha! A date book, concert tickets, and a reading list," Karina exclaimed, shoving the items into Eunwoo's hands. "That should give you enough information, right?"

Eunwoo looked at the pile, nodding slowly. "Uh, right. This should help. Um, how about your room?"

Karina quickly shook her head. "Oh uhm I think we've got what we need! Let's get out of here,"

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN approached Riki at school, determination in their eyes.

"Okay, so we figured out some information about her," Eunwoo began. "She hates smokers, so you might have to drop that cigarette."

Riki raised an eyebrow but complied, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it. "Okay, so I have to say I'm a non-smoker?"

Soobin nodded. "Exactly. And she likes feminist prose and angry girl music."

Eunwoo handed Riki a list. "Here's a list of the CDs she had in her room."

Riki scanned the list, his expression skeptical. "So you're saying all I need to do is go to some stupid concert with her?"

Eunwoo nodded. "Well, her favorite band is playing tomorrow, and she'll be there since she got the tickets."

Riki groaned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. "No way I'm going there."

"It's fine," Soobin reassured him. "It's just for one night."

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you owe me for this."

Eunwoo and Soobin exchanged relieved glances, knowing they were one step closer to their goal.

RIKI TRUDGED TOWARDS THE CONCERT VENUE, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, as he approached the main area where a sea of girls buzzed with excitement. From a distance, he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you and your best friend, Shuhua, dancing with abandon. A feeling churned in his stomach as he watched you, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. Sighing, he made his way to the bar.

As Riki sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the evening, you approached the bar for some water. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed him standing there.

"If you plan on asking me out again, you might as well just get it over with," you said, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

"Do you mind? You're kind of ruining the mood here," Riki retorted, his tone defensive.

"You're not with your usual smoke," you observed, glancing around.

"I know, I quit. Apparently, they're bad for you," he replied with a shrug.

"You think?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you know, the Raincoats aren't that bad," he said, changing the subject.

You looked at him, a bit surprised. "You know the Raincoats?"

"Why don't you?" he countered, standing up as if to leave. You followed him, curious.

"I've just never seen you so pretty under this light," he said loudly, just as the room suddenly fell quiet. Laughter erupted from those around you, and you glanced at him, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time that evening. He smiled back.

"Come to Bogey's party with me?" he asked.

You laughed, shaking your head. "You really aren't giving up, are you?"

"Is that a yes?" he pressed.

"No," you said firmly, still smiling.

"Well, was that a no?" he called after you as you walked away, laughter in your wake.

"No!" you shouted back over your shoulder.

"I'll come at 9:30 then!" he declared, grinning as he watched you disappear into the crowd.

IT'S THE DAY OF THE PARTY, and Karina walks down the stairs, dressed and ready to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" your dad asks, his voice firm.

"To a party," Karina replies nonchalantly.

He sighs deeply, a hint of frustration in his tone. "We talked about this, Karina."

"Well, it's a small party! Everyone in the school is going," she insists.

"YN is not going, then you're not going," your dad states firmly.

Karina's eyes widen in disbelief before she turns to glare at you. "God, why can't you be normal for once, YN?"

You roll your eyes, unfazed by her outburst. Karina then softens, her desperation clear. "Please, YN, go to the dance. Please, please," she begs.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Finally, you relent. "Fine, I'll make an appearance," you agree with a sigh before you change into a more formal outfit.

As you open the front door, you see Riki standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"9:30, right?" he replies with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm driving," you mutter, brushing past him as you head to the car. Riki follows you, a satisfied grin on his face as he trails behind.

AT THE PARTY, you stand off to the side, observing the chaotic scene unfold around you. People are kissing, drinking, and dancing. Your eyes narrow as you spot Daeho smirking and making his way toward Karina, who lights up as he approaches.

Daeho and Karina begin flirting openly, their conversation punctuated by giggles and playful touches. You feel a pang of annoyance as Karina eagerly pushes you aside to make room for Daeho. You roll your eyes in frustration and grab a random drink from the counter, chugging it down in one go, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

Riki approaches you, concern evident on his face. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

"I'm getting trashed at a party. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" you snap, rolling your eyes again as you take another swig from your drink.

Meanwhile, across the room, Eunwoo walks over to Karina, who is still engrossed in her conversation with Daeho. "Oh, Eunwoo," she says, sounding surprised. Eunwoo glances at Daeho with a confused look and then back at Karina, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Come on, let's go," Daeho says, dragging Karina away. She gives Eunwoo a helpless little wave before turning her attention back to Daeho. Eunwoo pauses, watching her disappear into the crowd, a look of disappointment flashing across his face.

As Daeho and Karina walk around, he talks nonstop about himself, barely giving Karina a chance to speakFeeling annoyed, she turns around and leaves him, while Daeho quickly shifts his attention to flirting with other girls.

Later, Riki is still looking for you. When he finally finds you, you’re fully drunk, dancing on top of a table with the music blaring. Your movements are unsteady, and you accidentally hit your head on a light, nearly falling off the table. Riki catches you just in time, his grip firm yet gentle.

"Come on, you're gonna get a concussion," he says, helping you down from the table and guiding you to a clearer, quieter area away from the throngs of people.

Just then, Eunwoo pulls Riki aside, his frustration evident. "I might give up on her," Eunwoo admits, his voice heavy with resignation.

"No, you can't give up on her. It's either you go for her or go for her," Riki insists, his determination unwavering. He then returns to help you, leaving Eunwoo to ponder his words.

As Riki leads you to a more secluded spot, you try to catch your breath. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your words slurring slightly.

"Because I told you that you might have a concussion," Riki replies, his tone patient.

"You don't care if I wake up," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

"I do," he says, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

"Why?" you challenge him, your voice softer now.

"Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me," he responds with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like you could find one," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I just... need to sit down."

You sit down on a swing, trying to regain your balance. As you nearly fall off again, Riki catches you, his cologne mingling with the night air. The scent is comforting, and you lean into him slightly. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits you, and you feel overwhelmingly faint. Riki panics, his grip tightening on you, but before he can react further, you open your eyes and throw up.

"Great, just great," Riki mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and concern He helps you sit back on the swing, his hands firm on your shoulders.

As you try to clear your head, Riki sits down beside you, keeping a close eye on you. "You need to take it easy," he says softly, his tone more gentle now. "This isn't the way to handle things."

"I know," you mumble, your head still spinning. "I just... I just needed to forget for a while."

AS THE NIGHT WINDS DOWN , Riki drives you home, the hum of the engine mingling with the music blasting through the speakers. You're still half drunk, feeling the aftereffects of the party, but a strange sense of clarity begins to settle over you.

"I should do this," you say, gesturing toward the car's interior as you lean back in your seat.

"Start a band?" Riki asks, glancing at you with a teasing smile.

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, install car stereos. My father would LOVE for me to start a band," you add with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Riki chuckles, pulling up in front of your house. "It must be ass having a dad like that," he comments, turning the engine off.

You shrug, the weight of your family's expectations pressing down on you. "I mean, it's not that bad. It's just..."

"Just what?" he prompts, his tone gentle, encouraging you to open up.

"He wants me to be like, you know, Karina," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration and a hint of sadness.

Riki pauses, considering his words carefully. "Well, no offense or anything... but I know everyone 'digs' your sister. But she's without."

"Without what?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Without... substance, I guess. She's all surface," he explains, glancing at you with an earnest expression. "But you... you've got depth."

You look at him, surprised by his honesty. "You know, you're not as vile as I thought you were," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

Riki's gaze lingers on your lips, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. Feeling a rush of emotions, you lean in for a kiss, but at the last second, he turns away.

"Maybe next time," he says hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise your eyebrow, confused and a bit hurt, but you nod reluctantly. "Yeah, maybe next time," you murmur, opening the car door and stepping out.

RIKI MEETS UP WITH EUNWOO at their usual spot, a small café near the school. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the sleepy town.

"So, are you giving up on her?" Riki asks, stirring his coffee absently.

"Nope," Eunwoo replies, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't until she kissed me last night."

Riki pauses, his own smile starting to grow. "Where?"

"In the car," Eunwoo says, still smiling. Riki's smile drops abruptly.

Eunwoo looks confused. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. She would've been too drunk to remember," Riki says simply, his voice flat.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you’re walking with your best friend Shuhua, enjoying the crisp morning air as you head to school. The sun is shining, and the school grounds are buzzing with the usual pre-class chatter.

"Are you going to prom?" Shuhua asks, nudging you playfully.

You shrug, a nonchalant expression on your face. "Only if someone asks me out. Got no dresses anyway."

"Don’t you got a man?" Shuhua teases, winking at you.

You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes. "Oh, shush. I don't even remember anything from that day," you say, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity about the night of the party.

As you both walk inside the classroom, you find your seats just as the bell rings. The teacher, Mrs. Kim, stands at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to settle down.

"Good morning, class," she begins, her voice calm and authoritative. "Today, we’re starting a new poetry project. Each of you will be tasked with creating a poems over the next two weeks. This project is an opportunity to express yourselves and explore your creativity. Perhaps some of you will even discover a hidden talent."

AS RIKI IS HEADING TO HIS LOCKER, Daeho approaches him with a confident stride. He pulls out a wad of cash and holds it out to Riki.

"Here," Daeho says, his tone matter-of-fact. "I want you to go all out and ask YN to prom." He counts out $200, handing it to Riki.

Riki sighs, shaking his head. "Do you know what? I'm sick of this game."

Daeho sighs in exasperation, pulling out another $100 bill. "Fine, $300?" He waves the bill enticingly in front of Riki.

Riki stares at the money, feeling a mix of frustration and temptation. Hesitantly, he takes the cash, the weight of the bills heavy in his hand. "Deal," he mutters.

YOU FIND YOURSELF AT THE LOCAL GUITAR SHOP, testing out a sleek new guitar. The shop is quiet, with only the faint hum of an amp and the occasional strum of strings breaking the silence. You lose yourself in the music, fingers dancing over the frets.

As you play, Riki walks in. His eyes immediately fixate on you, captivated by the way you effortlessly make the guitar sing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching you.

Before you can turn around and realize he’s there, Riki quietly slips out of the store, leaving as silently as he came. The bell above the door rings softly, but you’re too immersed in your music to notice.

DURING DETENTION, the classroom is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the scratch of pencils on paper and the occasional rustling of pages. Riki sits at his desk, focused on his work, when he notices you walk in, looking particularly determined.

You spot him and make brief eye contact. Then, in a moment of clear but silent communication, you mouth the words "out the window" to him. Riki's eyes widen slightly, and he nods.

Without wasting a moment, you walk over to the principal’s desk, where Mr. Thompson is absorbed in grading papers. You start chatting, your voice intentionally loud.

"Mr. Thompson, did you know that the cafeteria is planning to add more vegetarian options next week?" you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. "And I heard they're thinking about changing the school colors to something more vibrant. Isn't that exciting?"

Mr. Thompson looks up from his papers, his attention momentarily diverted. "Really? I hadn't heard about that. Interesting..."

As you continue your rambling, your eyes dart over to Riki. He glances toward the window, then makes his move. He quickly and quietly slips out of his seat and makes his way to the window, sliding it open with practiced ease.

You keep up your distraction, now discussing something completely irrelevant about the new vending machine snacks. "And, oh! The snacks! They might be switching to gluten-free options. I mean, who cares about gluten, right? But it’s a big deal!"

Riki is now halfway out the window, his movements smooth and swift. You watch as he manages to sneak out of the building, disappearing from view.

Seeing him safely out, you wrap up your conversation "Yeah! So, um, thanks for listening, Mr. Thompson. Uhm, bye."

YOU AND RIKI ARE ON A BOAT DATE.

"Can't thank you enough for sneaking me out of detention," Riki says, glancing at you with a smirk.

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet of the lake. "I mean, detention is a pain in the ass anyways." Riki's gaze lingers on you as you look back at him, your smile widening.

"So, what's your excuse?" Riki asks after a pause, his eyes still fixed on yours.

"For?" you prompt, genuinely curious.

"For acting the way we do?" he clarifies, raising an eyebrow.

You think for a moment, then reply, "I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

Riki nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Wise words, hmm?"

You roll your eyes playfully. Your gaze lingers on his for a moment before you turn your attention back to the conversation. "Well, I suppose we all need a little rebellion now and then."

"Speaking of which," riki add, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter, "up for some paintball games?"

you glance at riki, slightly puzzled. "Huh?"

THE PAINTBALL FIELD IS A WHIRLWIND OF CHAOS. Paint splatters everywhere, turning the once-green grass into a vibrant canvas of colors.

You and Riki are in the thick of it, your faces smeared with colorful splotches of paint. You're both laughing and ducking behind barriers, your competitive spirits shining through. After a particularly intense round, you both find yourselves crashing onto a large pile of hay bales, the soft, cushioned landing a welcome relief.

As you lie there, catching your breath, Riki’s gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, and without thinking, you lean in and close the distance between you.

Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. Riki’s hand instinctively cups your cheek. You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, you pull back, breathless and smiling. Before Riki can fully recover from the kiss, you reach for a nearby paintball, holding it up playfully.

With a mischievous grin, you drop the paintball on him, splattering his shirt with a burst of color.

"You’re going to pay for that!" he shouts, his voice filled with laughter as he leaps up and starts chasing you.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU SETTLE IN, you’re laughing and talking when Riki suddenly leans in and kisses your neck.

“Come to prom with me, hm?” Riki asks, his voice gentle but hopeful.

You glance at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Is that a request or a command?”

“Come on, go with me,” he replies, his tone earnest.

You shake your head, still smiling but firm. “No.”

Riki’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” you say, your voice steady. “Because it’s a stupid tradition.”

Riki’s expression shifts to one of confusion and frustration. “Come on, people won’t expect you to go.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling a sense of unease. “Why are you pushing this so much?”

Riki is momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

“What’s in it for you?” you demand, your tone sharper now. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”

Riki hesitates, clearly taken aback by your question. “So now I need a motive to be with you?” he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“You tell me,” you press, your curiosity piqued.

Riki’s expression shifts again, but there’s something off in his demeanor. “You need therapy. Has anyone told you that?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Answer me, Riki.”

He looks away, frustration evident in his posture. “Nothing. There’s nothing in it for me.”

Before you can respond, Riki pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The sight catches you off guard.

Your eyes widen as you watch him take a drag.

“I—” you start, but your words trail off.

“I need some space,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you turn and head inside the house.

────────────────────────────────

YOU STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, admiring your reflection. You're wearing a stunning, floor-length, royal blue gown with delicate silver embroidery along the bodice. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and a slight shimmer that catches the light with every movement. Your hair is styled in loose waves, and you're wearing simple yet elegant jewelry to complement your outfit.

"I'm going to prom, Dad," you call out, grabbing your clutch.

Your dad looks up from his newspaper, smiling warmly. "Oh, okay. Have fun, sweetie."

As you head towards the door, your younger sister Karina follows closely behind. Your dad stands up, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

"To prom?" Karina replies nonchalantly.

Just then, the doorbell rings. You open it to find Eunwoo standing there, looking dapper in his tuxedo. His jaw drops when he sees Karina.

Your dad, sensing something is up, looks between Karina and Eunwoo. "Turn and explain," he demands.

Karina sighs dramatically. "Fine. You know how you said I could date someone only if Y/N does? Well, turns out she found someone perfect for her. And Eunwoo asked me to prom, and I really want to go."

Your dad scrutinizes Eunwoo for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but be back before 9 PM."

Karina's eyes widen in surprise and delight. "Okay, okay! Bye!" She grabs Eunwoo's arm and drags him out of the house towards his car.

────────────────────────────────

YOU ARRIVE AT THE PROM VENUE, the decorations twinkling under the dim lights. The room is filled with laughter and music, but your eyes scan the crowd for someone specific. You spot Riki near the punch table, looking a bit nervous. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him.

"Hey," you greet, and he turns around, his eyes widening in shock at how pretty you look.

"Hi," he responds, his voice almost a whisper.

"Look, I'm sorry about how I questioned your motives," you say, feeling a bit awkward but sincere.

Riki sighs, a smile forming on his lips. "You're forgiven."

You smile back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Ready for prom, then?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Ready for sure."

────────────────────────────────

ON THE DANCE FLOOR, you and Riki are having a blast, laughing and twirling around. The music pulses through the room. Your eyes occasionally dart to Eunwoo and Karina, who are dancing together.

Suddenly, your favorite song starts playing. Your face lights up with excitement. As the chorus hits, you feel a surge of happiness. Impulsively, you lean in and kiss Riki on the lips. He seems surprised at first, but then he smiles into the kiss. His hands on your waist. When you pull back, both of you are laughing, foreheads against each other. What was the worse that could happen?

────────────────────────────────

KARINA IS IN THE BATHROOM, carefully applying her lipstick in the mirror. She takes a step back, admiring her reflection when the door opens, and her best friend walks in.

"What are you doing in here?" her friend asks with a smirk.

Karina glances over, "Oh, Daeho picked me up," she replies, a smug look on her face.

Karina's eyes narrow. "Oh, well, you can have him all."

Her friend shrugs, her smirk widening. "Oh, well, he only liked you for one reason anyway. Plus, he had a little bet going on with his friends."

Karina's smile falters. "What do you mean?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her chest.

"He's gonna nail you tonight," her best friend adds nonchalantly.

Realization dawns on Karina, and a wave of panic washes over her. She doesn't waste another second. Grabbing her clutch, she rushes out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. She needs to find you immediately.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU'RE DNACING WITH RIKI, he spins you around, making you laugh with joy. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes as Daeho shows up and shoves Riki aside with force.

"Why is Karina with that stupid asshole?" Daeho sneers, his eyes blazing with anger.

Riki blinks in confusion, trying to steady himself. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn’t pay you to take out Y/N for some punk to take out Karina," Daeho snaps, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Nothing in it for you, huh?" you mumble. Without another word, you push past him.

As you weave through the crowd, you spot Eunwoo frantically looking around, searching for Karina. He spots Daeho and approaches him, but before he can say anything, Daeho punches him, sending him to the ground.

Karina, who had been rushing to find you, arrives just in time to witness the assault. Her eyes widen in horror and rage as she sees Eunwoo on the floor.

She swings her fist and lands a punch squarely on Daeho's face. "That's what you get for making me date you, bitch!"

Daeho reels from the impact, but Karina doesn't stop. She punches him again, harder this time, her knuckles connecting with a sickening thud. "And that's what you get for doing that to my sister!"

Daeho stumbles back, his face contorted in pain and shock. The crowd watches in stunned silence as Karina turns away from him, breathing heavily. She rushes to Eunwoo's side and helps him to his feet, her expression softening with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

Eunwoo nods, wincing as he touches his jaw. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Karina."

────────────────────────────────

YOU FIND YOURSELF OUTSIDE THE PROM VENUE, your heart heavy with a mix of anger and hurt. The cool night air does little to calm your racing thoughts. Just then, Riki finds you, his face etched with desperation.

"Let me explain!" he pleads, his voice strained.

"You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate? I knew this was a setup!" you snap, glaring at him as you turn to walk away.

Riki quickly grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "Y/N! It wasn't like that," he insists, his grip firm but gentle.

You whip around, your eyes blazing. "Oh, what was it then? A down payment now and a bonus for sleeping with me?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm and pain.

Riki's face crumples, his eyes searching yours. "No, I didn't care about the money. I cared…" His voice falters as he looks into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his expression softening. "I care about you."

You narrow your eyes, the hurt and betrayal swirling inside you. "You are so not what I thought you were," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He tries to reach for you again, desperation clear in his eyes. "Please, Y/N, just listen—"

But you push him away, tears stinging your eyes. "No, Riki. I can't," you say, your voice breaking. Without looking back, you rush away from him, your heart aching with every step.

────────────────────────────────

IT'S POETRY READING DAY IN CLASS, and Mrs. Kim stands at the front, looking over her students. "Who wants to start their poem first?" she asks.

Reluctantly, you raise your hand, feeling the weight of your emotions. Across the room, Riki watches you intently.

You stand up and begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme."

You sigh, the words heavy on your heart. "I hate it… I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." You glance up, tears welling in your eyes as you look directly at Riki. "I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close. Not even a little, not even at all."

As you finish, you walk back to your seat, tears streaming down your face. The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Riki's eyes are glued to you, his expression a mix of regret and realization. He thinks for a moment, knowing he has something in mind.

────────────────────────────────

AFTER SCHOOL, you're walking to your car, and then you see it: a guitar, but not just any guitar—your favorite dream guitar. You freeze, admiring it in shock. You open the front door and grab the guitar in awe, your fingers tracing the strings.

"Nice, huh?" a voice says from behind. You turn to see Riki, smiling.

"A Fender Strat?" you whisper, your eyes widening as you glance at him. "Is it for me?"

He grins. "Yeah, I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. Besides, I had extra cash, you know."

You raise an eyebrow, curious. "Extra cash?"

Riki takes a breath, looking a bit sheepish. "Some asshole paid me to take out this really pretty girl."

You stare at him, a small smile forming on your face. "Is that right?"

He shrugs, stepping closer. "Yeah, but I screwed up. I fell for her."

"Really?" you ask, your heart pounding.

"I think so," he murmurs, as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His lips meet yours gently at first, soft, as if testing the waters. His hand on your waist pulls you closer, the warmth of his touch spreading through you. The other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You pull away slightly, teasing, "You know you can't buy me a guitar every time you screw up, right?"

He chuckles. "Well, there's always drums, bass, and maybe even a tambourine," he says, leaning in for another kiss.

[velarisdusk]

Ice Cold Jealousy

Hockey AU | Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist -> Part 2 - Thawing Boundaries

word count: 8.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, PWP, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), voyeuristic elements, possessiveness/jealousy, power dynamics, little bit of overstim?, hair pulling, dirty talk, humiliation?, biting, locker room sex (it's come to my attention that hockey locker rooms don't typically have lockers but just suspend your disbelief for a sec please), inapproproate touching, insinuation that Cass stares at Az's ass teehee | violence (physical altercation, reader not involved), blood mention, strong language | no beta we die like men ] summary: Despite the tension on the ice, your relationship with Cassian, the commanding captain of the Velaris Vipers, is anything but cold. His jealousy ignites when the rest of the team's flirtations become too much to ignore. In the aftermath of a disastrous game, the boundaries between playful teasing and intense passion blur, leading to a locker room encounter that challenges both your resolve and your control. author's note: WOW, okay, this is the first fic I've written for ACOTAR, and the first fic I've written in close to a decade, so excuse me if I'm a bit rusty :) I've been going through a hockey thing lately, watching random games on youtube in their entirety, so obviously that means I had to write Cass, duh. Sorry it's on the longer side; I just had lots of ideas... like only 3k of this is plot lmfao. Enjoy!

Cassian knows they’re fucked.

You can see it on his face. With two points down and precious little time left on the clock, they need a miracle. The referee skates to center ice, puck in hand. You lean forward, breath caught in your throat, as the Velaris Vipers take their positions. The air is thick with tension, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull buzz in your ears. You knew the Hewn City Hellhounds were good, but never imagined they’d pose this much of a problem. 

Cassian’s and Azriel’s eyes meet for a moment, a silent agreement passing between them. The puck drops, and its whereabouts for the seconds after are a mystery to you. After an unruly clash of hockey sticks and a mess of bodies, Cassian passes to Azriel on his left, who takes off down the ice with it. Cassian moves to mirror him on the opposite side of the ice. The Hellhounds’ defense closes in, but Cassian and Azriel move in perfect sync, the puck zipping between their sticks in a blur. They dance around the opposition, narrowly avoiding checks, their movements so fluid they don’t need to look to know where the other will be.

Just as Azriel is about to be boxed in by two defenders, a swift flick of his wrist sends the puck to Tarquin who’s come up to support them. You let out a sigh of relief, not even having seen him since he was back by the net. 

Why is he up here instead of back by the net? Eris should’ve been there; it’s his one job as a winger to support Cassian as center in making goals. You scan the rink, but don’t need to for long. He skates right up to you with an air of nonchalance, like he doesn’t need to be with the rest of his team fighting for their lives. You give him an incredulous look, about to open your mouth and shout at him when he gets to the wall, but the words catch in your throat when he blows a kiss, tracing a heart on the glass with a smirk. You gather yourself quickly, but before you can scold him his back is already turned and he skates back toward the action.

You’ve grown accustomed to the team’s teasing, knowing it’s all in good spirit. But with Eris, there’s always been an undercurrent of something more intense, more deliberate. As he skates away now, you can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, just how far he’d take things if given the chance. You’ll never admit it out loud, but the way he cuts directly in front of the opposing team’s defenseman to get him away from Tarquin is impressive with how absentminded it seems. 

Watching them, you reflect on the years you’ve spent at their games and practices. Not only have you witnessed their drastic improvement, but you’ve also grown close to the team. Perhaps too close, if the playful flirtations are any indication. 

Yeah, maybe ‘close’ was a bit…

But it wasn’t your fault. Really! A little over three years ago, Cassian invited you to their season opener, your relationship still fresh. You hadn’t known the first thing about the sport so obviously you spent hours watching videos and frantically looking up your countless questions to ensure you wouldn’t be entirely lost. Cassian had told you on the drive home that night that word had spread rather quickly through the Vipers about the hot girl in the stands. You knew. Hot, definitely, but dumb? Oblivious? No. Of course you noticed their showing off — the goalie’s glances after skilled saves, the wingers’ risky shots, the defensemen’s aggressive checks and subsequent winks, smiles, and waves from the penalty box.

You’ve often recalled their expressions when Cassian called into the locker room for them to come meet you, when they’d seen the object of their displays throwing her arms around their captain’s neck, planting a kiss on his sweaty cheek. You weren’t necessarily shy about looking at them in their various states of undress through the doorway; some shirtless, others holding a towel in front of themselves for modesty. But Cassian introducing you as his girlfriend didn’t stop their light-hearted remarks, though they were much less blatant now. For the most part. There was still the stray push of boundaries. Neither of you have ever told them to stop. Though you both enjoyed their feeble attempts, found them entertaining, there were times you noticed him get jealous, if his clenched jaw and reddening face were anything to go by.

Tarquin deftly maneuvers around an opponent with a small spin, sending ice shavings spraying, and you aren’t sure if the move is meant to distract or simply add some flourish. He looks up and winks at you with a nod. You roll your eyes with a small smile and the puck is once again in Cassian’s possession. He either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care. He drives forward, eyes locked on the goal. The goalie is ready, crouched and tense, but your boys have one last trick up their sleeves. 

Cassian pulls his hockey stick back and thrusts it forward with such determination that you’re sure he’s going to take the shot. But he stops just short of the puck and in an instant pushes it left and back, where Azriel is perfectly positioned. He doesn’t hesitate, slamming the puck into the net with a force that sends it rattling.

The red light flashes. Goal.

You shoot up and cheer, your shouts blending with those of the fans all around you. Previous to this, so overtaken with nerves, all you’ve been able to do is sit tight with your arms crossed, eyes darting wildly across the rink. The jovial energy doesn’t last long though. They’re still down a point, and with only a little over a minute left now, their only chance is somehow scoring and going into overtime. 

You scan the rink. The three forwards take their positions: Eris, red hair peeking from his helmet, grips his stick tightly at right wing; Azriel, ever the shadow to Cassian’s light, settles into place with calm readiness; and Cassian, commanding center ice with unmatched presence. Rhysand and Tarquin hover near the blue line, mirroring each other’s poised intensity on defense. If you were closer that way, you might be able to see their eyes darting across the ice, calculating every possible move. Helion stands sentinel before the net, gaze piercing and unwavering. Each a powerhouse, but none more commanding than Cassian at center ice.

His presence is commanding and magnetic. The weight of the game seems to rest on his broad shoulders, yet he bears it with a fierce determination you find both exhilarating and reassuring. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his eyes are locked on the opposition with a predator’s focus. You love this about him — the way he can command the rink with just a glance, the way his intensity electrifies the very air around him. 

Off the rink, he’s just as intense in a different way: reliable, attentive, deeply devoted. The moments you share away from the chaos — quiet dinners, late-night talks, and his arms holding you close as you get drunk off of each other’s wandering hands and lips for hours — are a stark contrast to the warrior before you now. It’s this duality, this balance of strength and tenderness, that never ceases to intrigue you. 

As the clock ticked down these last few plays, you could see the resolve settling in his eyes. He isn’t just playing for the team; he’s playing for you, for the life you’re building together. 

Another loud cheer from the crowd pulls you back in, and you notice the Hellhounds have taken back possession of the puck and are rapidly approaching Helion at the goal. Rhysand intercepts a pass and carries it around the back of the goal to shoot the puck forward along the side of the rink. Where Eris is supposed to receive it, the Hellhounds’ center intercepts and, guarded by a winger on either side, plows back down the ice towards the Vipers’ goal. Their wingers do a decent job of clearing a path for him. He takes the shot, and Helion miraculously changes the trajectory of the puck with a paddle save that has the audience roaring and up on their feet again. Tarquin tries to take back possession but isn’t there quickly enough. The Hellhounds still have it and go for the shot again, this time bouncing the puck off the crossbar and away from the goal. 

40 seconds left. 

Cassian and Rhysand guard against their opponents while Azriel and Tarquin skillfully maneuver the puck down the ice, right between people’s skates at times. Tarquin is incredibly nimble and light on his feet for a defenseman, conducting several moves that force gasps from your lips, worried something would go wrong. He makes a pass to Eris right as he gets shoved into the wall by the Hellhounds’ defense. 

26 seconds.

The redhead moves with a sort of confidence that seemingly makes the other team recoil momentarily. He commands the attention of every spectator, not only because he has possession but also because of his back-to-back evasions and fakeouts. 

18 seconds. 

Eris approaches the goal, all six opponents converging. Cassian skates up to the left, perfectly positioned for a play they’ve practiced countless times. A simple, effective strategy — Eris just needs to pass to Cassian for the shot. Cassian catches Eris’ eye, giving him a nod. He’s open. 

But Eris shakes his head. 

He backtracks, attempting to outmaneuver the defense. You glance at Cassian, seeing fury building in his eyes. Tarquin and Azriel are open too, but Eris isn’t looking that way. Rhysand and Helion wear expressions of anger tinged with resigned frustration.

6 seconds left. Eris circles behind the goal, clearly aiming to nudge the puck in around the post. You can already tell it won’t work — too many opponents, and Eris’ eyes are locked on you instead of the play. He slides the puck around the post and… straight into the goalie’s leg pads. 

2 seconds. Cassian and Azriel make a desperate rush, but it’s futile. You sit with a sigh, putting your head in your hands. The buzzer blares. Game over. Hewn City Hellhounds win, 5 - 4. 

You distantly hear the cries and shouts from the other side of the arena celebrating their team’s win, mingled in are the groans of frustration and defeat from around you. What the fuck was he thinking? They’d had the perfect opportunity. You look up just in time to see your boyfriend shove Eris into the wall a few feet down from where you sit, the glass letting you see just how his face smashes against it with the impact. The spectators around you cheer Cassian on, as they, too, are frustrated at the person who cost them the possibility of overtime.

Immediately after impact, Cassian skates back a few feet, throws his helmet and gloves off, and raises his fists. Eris mirrors the action after throwing down his stick. Cassian’s is discarded way back near the goal. There’s no going in circles to see who moves first; Cassian is on him, landing blow after blow to his face and head. His own face goes red with anger as he shouts what you assume to be chastising, scolding words at the other. You can’t hear anything above the crowd around you spurring him on. Across the ice, the rest of the team just watches, arms crossed and chests heaving. 

Eris finally gathers himself, landing a left hook to Cassian’s jaw. He takes the opportunity to pull him down a bit by the hair and uses his other hand to keep punching. The refs are finally on their way to break it up, but both of their blood has already spilled onto the glass and ice. You strain to catch their words, curiosity flaring as Eris’ eyes flick to you, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. Whatever he said next had Cassian lunging forward with another barrage of punches. 

As the refs finally near them, you decide you've seen enough and navigate your way out of the stands to the locker room entrance just as you always have at the end of their matches. 

You’ve never seen him get like this. Sure, you’ve seen him get into a fight every now and then, after which he’d pout at you from the penalty box (if he wasn’t still too overcome with anger). But this? In-fighting? Never. He’s usually the one splitting the guys up. And though he gets into disagreement after disagreement with Eris, it’s never turned into this. You’re not even sure why it escalated so quickly — they’ve been doing really well this season and the playoffs are still months away. This was by no means a high-stakes game for them. 

Just as you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the wall across from the locker room door, you hear the familiar cacophony that comes with lost games. You prefer it to the times they come back silent — the times the car ride home goes by without a word exchanged. Those are few and far in between, though. 

The din of angry voices and clattering equipment grows louder as the team approaches. You straighten up, eyes fixed on the corridor’s entrance. When Cassian emerges, leading the group, your heart sinks. His jaw is clenched, gaze locked straight ahead with an intensity that makes you hesitate. 

Still, you take a few steps towards him. “Cass,” you start, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

He doesn’t even blink. Cassian strides past you, the heat of his anger almost palpable as he disappears into the locker room. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you staring at its blank surface. 

You're still processing when you feel a light touch at your waist. Azriel slides past you with a sympathetic nod. Helion follows, his hand ghosting across your lower back as he squeezes through. If you weren’t caught so off guard you may have leaned into their touch. Rhysand, ever the gentleman even in defeat, murmurs a quiet “Rough night, darling” as he moves around you.

“Think Cassian would mind if you played nurse?” Eris drawls, gesturing to his bruised face. He gives what would be a stunning smile if not for the blood staining his teeth. His eyes flicker to the locker room door, then back to you. “I promise I’d be a much more… grateful patient.” He lingers only a moment longer, and you’re sure he’d jump at the chance in a heartbeat if you gave the word, before sauntering into the locker room with a self-assured smirk.

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. The muffled sounds of frustration and anger seep through the locker room door, punctuated by the occasional crash of equipment being thrown. You check your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media to distract yourself. Already, clips of the fight are circulating, fans dissecting every move, every punch. You decide to just put your phone back in your pocket. 

The shouting inside gradually dies down, replaced by the sound of running water. Showers. You find yourself straining to hear any indication of Cassian’s mood, wondering if the shower is doing anything to cool his temper. 

The corridor gradually empties as staff and other team personnel file out. You shift your weight from one foot to another, replying to texts to pass the time. The showers shut off one by one. You hear locker doors opening and closing, the murmur of subdued conversations. The guys eventually trickle out, hair still damp. They offer you tight smiles or brief nods as they pass, their usual post-game chatter noticeably absent. The weight of the loss and the fight hangs heavy in the air; even Eris walks past you without so much as a smirk.

“(Y/N).”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach at his tone — it’s commanding, and the raspiness from all the shouting in his already deep voice sends a conflicting shiver through you. It does nothing to calm your nerves, but ignites a different kind of tension altogether. You take a step off the wall as you respond.

“Yeah…?”

“Get in here.”

This better be fucking good, you think, but find yourself swallowing hard anyway. You push the door and step in, and if your breath wasn’t already stuck in your throat, you might have choked on it at the sight.

Cassian sits on one of the benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, and his damp hair partially obscures his face as he stares down at his calloused fingers.

You take a few tentative steps, stopping a few paces before the bench. The door finally shuts behind you, the loud click echoing in the otherwise silent room. Neither of you speak for long enough that you feel like you should say something, but when you open your mouth-

“Sit. And listen to me very carefully.”

His voice is low and measured, but the underlying tension is palpable. You lower yourself onto the bench across from him, heart pounding. His eyes lock onto you, dark and intense. He stands, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His towel now hangs dangerously low on his hips as he looms over you, still sitting on the bench.

“That game,” he growls, “was a disaster.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, still flushed from the shower, as he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bench. You have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His face is inches from yours, breath warm on your cheek.

“Eris blew it,” he continues, voice low and rough. “But y’know what? It wasn’t just him. The whole team was off today.” He leans in closer, his breath ghosting your ear. "And I think I know why."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze roams over your face, over your surprise laden eyes, lingering on your lips before snapping back up.

"I saw the way they kept looking at you," he murmurs so quietly you can hardly hear him. "Tarquin missing easy passes, Azriel fumbling checks he'd usually nail." His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch feather-light and sending shivers down your spine. "Even Helion let in shots he'd normally block without breaking a sweat.” You can feel the tension coiling in Cassian's body, see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches it. 

"It's getting to be too much," he says, the hand that brushed your hair back now on your chin, tilting your face up to his. "The guys can't focus when you're here." His thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you can’t help but part your mouth open a bit at the touch. "Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things. If you're going to keep distracting the team like this..."

His gaze intensifies, dark eyes boring into yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he speaks.

"We can't have that, can we, baby?"

The notion is absurd. Stop going to his games? Your brows furrow as you look at him incredulously. “That’s hardly my fault-”

“Didn’t I tell you to sit and listen!?” He shouts suddenly, his grip on your chin tightening. Your eyes shoot wide open, but not in surprise.

In understanding. 

He’d never really talk to you like this, you both knew that. This was one of his games. And, oh, how you so loved playing them. 

You keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Funny, I thought you liked it when all eyes were on me.”

“I like it when they look. I don’t like it when they forget their place.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and desire. You can see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained jealousy and possessiveness. You lean in slightly, testing the boundaries. “And what exactly is their place, Cassian?” you ask, your voice low and teasing. “More importantly, what’s mine?”

His eyes narrow at your challenge, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases your chin, only to trail his fingers down your neck, coming to rest at your collarbone. The light touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Their place?” His eyes harden slightly. “To play hockey. Nothing more. I bring them some eye candy out of the kindness of my heart, and how do they repay me? By letting themselves get distracted and costing us games.” A sharp exhale.

“Your place?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear. Without warning, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The sudden grip is firm but not painful. Cassian steps over the bench in one fluid motion, his hold on you guiding you to turn with him. You instinctively follow his lead, twisting on the bench to face him and rising as he pulls you close. His movements are firm as he turns you both and directs you backward, until you feel the cool press of metal against your shoulders. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he keeps you pinned there, pushing his hips against your own. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans in, closing the distance between your lips.

The kiss is nothing romantic. It’s pure lust, disguised as frustration, as consequation. Where his words were clearly deliberate, his actions feign abandon. You match his intensity, your lips moving against his with equal fervor, your body arching into his touch. The grip on your hair remained, his other hand sliding slowly from your hip to your waist, then up again to your chest. He was like a starved man, grabbing onto whatever flesh he could get his hands on. The hand you didn’t have snaked around the back of his neck desperately explored every valley of his bare torso, products of his years playing the sport. 

The sounds of heavy breaths and locking lips fill the room, grunts following not long after. Cassian lets out an especially depraved groan, rolling his head back, when you slide your hand down to squeeze him through the precariously wrapped towel. But when you move to pull it off, his own hand swats yours away.

“With what you did tonight, you think that’s allowed? You think you decide how this goes?” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You pause, processing his question, the sudden shift.

“What I did tonight?” you manage, your voice slightly breathless. “I didn’t do anything.”

Cassian’s laugh is low and humorless. “Didn’t do anything? Sweetheart… don’t play innocent.” His fingers tighten in your hair, making you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. “Every cheer, every jump, every little gasp… You put on quite the show, didn’t you?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way your eyes stuck to Eris. Tell me, did you like it when he blew you that kiss?” 

Yes.

His gaze continues to burn into yours, a mix of jealousy and desire, as if he could somehow read the response in your eyes. “You’ve got the whole team wrapped around your finger and you know it.”

You steel yourself, meeting his gaze with an intense one of your own. “And so what if I do?” you challenge, voice steadier now. “I’m not responsible for how your team reacts to me. If they can’t keep their eyes on the game, maybe that’s on them.”

You lean in slightly, mimicking his earlier movement. “Or maybe it’s on you, Captain. Shouldn’t you be able to keep your team focused?” Something dangerous flashes through his eyes.

“You’re pushing boundaries you don’t fully understand.”

“Or maybe I understand them better than you think.” Your voice is steady despite the thrumming of your pulse.

“Understand this, then.” Your stomach flips. His eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Stirring up my team? That’s a direct shot at me, at my authority.”

You scoff, feigning incredulity. “Authority? If you had any authority, do you think they’d look at me the way they do, touch me the way they do?” A pause. “Did you think it ended with the showboating? No, baby, they put their hands on me so often I’m starting to forget what yours feel like.”

Of course he knew, noticed it early on and said nothing after discovering that neither of you truly minded. 

“Helion seems to enjoy putting his hand on my lower back when he moves around me for a chance to ‘slip’ and cop a feel,” you continue. “Ever notice how Rhys almost always greets me with a hug? Squeezes me? Oh! And the way-”

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice cuts through your words like a blade, low and sharp. The hand that doesn’t still have a fistful of your hair in it shoots out to grasp the junction of your neck and shoulder, his calloused fingers feel like they’re searing into you. “You think I don’t see it all? See how they undress you with their eyes? How their fingers itch to trace every curve they imagine beneath your clothes?”

You feel a slight downward pressure, pushing on your shoulder, pulling on your hair. “But here’s what you’re missing, sweetheart. They might play at ownership, but at the end of the day, who do they answer to?”

He pulls back slightly, to really take in the sight of you. “Who do you answer to when the game’s over and the lights go down?”

The question hangs in the air between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. Cassian’s gaze intensifies, his grip on your hair and shoulder tightening. “Because make no mistake,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, and the downward force he’s inflicting on you growing steadily. “This little game you’re playing? It ends when I say it does.”

The pressure on your shoulder increases, his intent clear. You resist for a moment longer, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw… His command is clear. Though you have half a mind to resist, a thrill runs through you, making your heart beat faster and your breath hitch slightly. The sheer possessiveness in his gaze is enough to make your knees weak. 

Slowly, inexorably, he guides you downward, your body responding almost involuntarily to the authoritative tone and the heat of his voice. You look up at him from your new position, the sight of him towering over you sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold yours captive as he looms above you. You’re aware of how your breathing quickens with anticipation, how Cassian’s throat bobs as he watches you. He’s still holding your hair, and you can tell he’s enjoying the submission he’s coaxed from you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and barely restrained desire.

That grip tightens a fraction as he leans into you, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing a path along your lower lip, but different from before. Where his last touch there had been gentle and barely there, this one is firm and deliberate.

Cassian’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and rough. “Open,” he commands, the single word laden with authority and promise.

You shudder as his command rolls over you, your body responding without conscious thought. Your lips part slightly in response to his order. His gaze is fixed intently on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. His thumb traces along the curve of your lower lip with deliberate slowness, a firmness matching that of his eyes. For a heartbeat, he applies the gentlest pressure, slipping it into your mouth for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. “Now be a good girl and stay just like that for me.”

You hold yourself still, holding his gaze as you keep your mouth open, your tongue instinctively darting out to moisten your lower lip when he pulls his hand away. He finally releases your hair and it’s an effort to contain your sigh of relief. You hear more than see the towel fall from his hips to the floor. The same fingers that gripped your face moments ago now wrap around his girth, absently stroking the already-hard length of it. His pupils are dilated at the sight of you obediently holding yourself still, your mouth open, and he can barely restrain the hunger that’s been building in him.

Cassian’s large hand cradles your jaw, drawing you even closer. His presence is overwhelming, and as he aligns himself with your mouth, there’s no warning before he thrusts in. Initially, his movements are slow, almost deceivingly gentle, but you realize too late it’s quite the opposite. Halfway in, you manage, but as he pushes to the hilt, he does so painfully slowly. You try to relax, your throat attempting to accommodate him. The slow withdrawal is worse, your breath ragged as you inhale through your nose.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you gasping for air. He looks down at you with a mix of confusion and pity. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Struggling already. I thought you could handle more.”

You meet his gaze, eyes watering but defiant. You want to tell him that you can, that he knows you can, but when you make to speak, the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk, and he pushes back in, a little faster this time. “Is this what you wanted, baby? To be on your knees, taking me like this?”

He thrusts deeper, making you choke slightly. Cassian groans, a low rumble of a sound that reverberates through you. “That’s why you acted out, distracted my guys, huh? You just wanted me to give you a little attention.” He picks up the pace, each thrust more forceful yet. “Bet you think about this all the time,” he growls. “When you’re watching us play, you’re not watching the game, are you? No… You’re staring at Azriel’s tight, perfect ass, aren’t you? I see the way you watch him.” You can only moan in response. Cassian’s fingers slip into your hair on either side, holding your head back against the lockers, his movements becoming relentless. 

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes go to Helion between plays, when he takes his helmet off. You love how big he is, how powerful. You get off on watching him, don’t you?” The tension between you both is palpable, but his eyes are fixated on you, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I see you staring whenever any of them are in the penalty box. You’re not thinking about the game then, are you? Bet you wish you were in there with them. You’re probably thinking about Tarquin’s pretty blue eyes, you want him to pin you with that look, don’t you? Or Rhys’s hands, wanting them all over you. And Eris,” he spits out the name, pairs it with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. “You eat up the way he flexes his arms when he flirts with you, I know you do.” The locker room fills with the sounds of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the harsh whisper of his voice.

Each name, each accusation, sends a wave of shame through you. You want to deny it all, but Cassian’s relentless pace and your restrained position make it impossible. The truth is, you do think about those things — more often than you’d ever admit. The thoughts swirl in your mind, but they never take away from the attention you give Cassian. You’re most often fixated on him during games, your eyes unabashedly stuck on the way his body moves. The powerful stride of his legs, the way his strong hands grip the stick, the intense focus in his eyes. Your mind almost always lands on thoughts of his sweat-slicked skin, the hard lines of his body beneath the uniform. Your desire for him gets overwhelming, which is why the current activity is typically the one of choice after these games. 

This was the first time you hadn’t waited until home though.

He continues, his movements relentless. “You know what Eris told me out there, baby? Who am I kidding, of course you don’t, you were too busy entertaining the rest of the guys, isn’t that right?” You try to respond, but choke on his length, his brutal pace bruising the back of your throat. “Isn’t that right? Answer me (Y/N),” he growls, keeping your head firmly pressed against the lockers.

You try to answer, but all you can manage is an unintelligible garble, gagging as you attempt to speak. If there weren’t already tears in your eyes from the physical strain, there certainly would be after hearing his cold, short laugh.

“Can’t even own up to it,” Cassian tsks. “He told me that you,” he punctuates the ‘you’ with a particularly deep thrust, “have been running around telling them all how badly you want them. That you give them fuck-me eyes when I’m not around. Is that true, baby? Have you been going behind my back? Want them to pass you around and take turns with you?” At each question he pulls almost all the way out, slamming back in soon after. You manage a quick shake of your head before his grip tightens on it again. You can only look up at him with your tear-brimmed, pleading eyes. “No, I didn’t think so,” he murmurs, a thumb grazing soothingly across your cheek. You may have taken comfort in it if you didn’t know any better.

“I knew you wouldn’t say those things,” he says calmly, but suddenly pulls himself out and leans over you, forcing your head up to look at him. “But you think them, don’t you?” 

You’re still trying to gasp in air as you fight to respond. “No,” but you don’t sound convincing. Not when your voice is so hoarse. “No, I promise, I never said those things — never thought them either.” You’re coughing, trying to regain your composure, and you’re grateful he gives you a moment.

“Take off your pants,” he orders suddenly, the command sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You stand slowly, and your hands tremble slightly as you obey, slipping out of your pants and kicking them aside. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on the sight of his jersey hanging loosely on you, the contrast between the oversized shirt and your bare legs making his pupils dilate with desire. “Keep it on,” he adds when you reach for it. Cassian leans forward, now eye-level with you.

 “Come on,” he breathes out, a hand snakes under the jersey and onto your bare hip, those calloused fingers squeezing. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think about them. How their hands would feel if they were running up your thighs, grabbing your hips, pulling you close.” His actions mirror his words deliciously, and his words pour over you in a dangerous whisper, the heat of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “About how it would feel to have their hands squeezing and groping you wherever they wanted. How about if instead of stealing little touches here and there, they grew some fucking balls, grabbed you by the hips,” his fingers dig in firmly, and you catch him tilt his chin to his shoulder, a glimpse of his true nature shining through the silent signal to grab on, “and lifted you up like this?”

You barely have a moment to grab on when, with a swift, powerful motion, Cassian lifts you up, pressing you against the lockers. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck as he holds you there, his body pinning yours and his hands holding you up by your ass. The cold metal of the lockers contrasts with the heat from both of your bodies. You try to arch away from it, but only manage to push yourself flush against him, feeling the undeniable hardness of him pressing against your core, a reminder of how desperately you both want this. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making you gasp and tighten your grip around his neck.

You want to deny it, to insist that your thoughts are innocent, but the intensity of his gaze tells you he wouldn’t believe you. You swallow hard, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, as you shake your head once more, more for your own reassurance than his. 

“It’s not like that…” you plead, trying to catch your breath, eyes wide with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “I—” Your voice falters, the words stuck in your throat. “You don’t understand.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening ever so slightly. You knew there would be bruises later. “Enlighten me,” he growls.

You take a breath. “When I watch you out there, all I can think about is how much I want you,” you confess. “The way you move, the way you lead and command everything… It drives me crazy. They’re just petty distractions. You’re the one I can’t resist. The one I crave,” you assure him, moving the stray hair from his eyes. “You’re the one I want, Cassian. Only you, you know that.”

His expression softens, as do his fingers on your skin, his intense gaze seeming to melt as he absorbs your words. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs, his voice tender, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’ve been too harsh.” A hand rubs your side soothingly under the jersey, making its way up to massage your breast.

You smile softly, but just as you begin to feel a sense of relief, his grip on you tightens again, a bit painful on your breast. There’s a familiar, dangerous glint in his eyes. “But then again,” he whispers, “I can’t just ignore the way you look at them, baby. I can’t let that go with a few sweet words from those pretty lips of yours,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling softly before releasing it. “You like their attention, being desired by them. Just admit it.”

You hesitate, your mind torn between denial and the undeniable truth. Unable to look him in the eyes, you nod slowly. Your voice is barely a whisper when you speak. “I do…”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, voice low and pensive. He presses you harder against the lockers, his hands roaming over you slowly, almost absently. “Enjoy it all you want, but don’t you dare let them think they have a chance. You know who I mean.”

Your heart races as you nod, whispering, “Eris.” It was obvious. 

Cassian frowns. “It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. “I let you play these pathetic little games of yours, but don’t think for a second that it’s an invitation to have another man’s name on your lips while I’m inside you.”

With a sharp, forceful movement, he thrusts into you, the suddenness making you cry out, the sound bouncing through the tiled room. “Do you understand?” he demands, and you nod again, vigorously this time, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the fullness. 

Without another word, he finally captures your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue gliding over yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. His hands slide down to your thighs, and he begins to move against you. There was nothing soft or caring about it, the motions unyielding and powerful. His hands grip you tightly as he fucks you into the cold metal of the lockers, his thrusts hard and deep. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is harsh and taunting. “To be fucked like this, right here where anyone could walk in? You think about this every time you see them, don’t you?” That’s when you remember that you are, in fact, in a place where anyone could find you like this. A blush rises to your cheeks at the realization, and you can tell he gets off on your embarrassment when he fails to suppress a smirk. You try grounding yourself by grabbing him wherever you can, hands out of his hair and grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in. “I know you like teasing them,” he continues, voice little more than a rumble. “Making them think they have a chance. They’ll never have you like this, (Y/N).”

His pace quickens, and he speaks into your neck. “Tarquin mentioned how you blush every time he catches you staring. What do you think about when you look at him, hm?” But you’re a mess, so lost in pleasure you can hardly process he’s asked you a question until he bites down on the crook of your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response, however, before he continues. “And Helion said you can’t keep your eyes off his arms. Is that what you want? You want his arms wrapped around you?” He changes his rhythm suddenly, now pulling out all the way to the tip before ramming back in. 

“Do you understand how fucking embarrassing it is,” he starts, voice cold, barely heard over your screams and moans, “to have my team—my friends—telling me how they catch you practically drooling at them, that you’d take them over me if you got the chance?” You shake your head adamantly at that. 

“No, Cass, you know that isn’t true!” You try to keep your voice even, to be taken seriously, but the lewd sounds in the air of him pounding your soaked, dripping cunt don’t do anything to help. It’s hard to continue when he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue dancing across the sensitive skin. “No one could fuck me as good as you do,” you breathe out, and you hope the moans cutting through your words are indication enough of it. “You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel like this,” you manage to say between gasps. “They mean nothing compared to you.”

He appears to consider your words and you think he might be convinced, but nothing changes. Other than, perhaps, the smirk on his lips. “You know what Azriel told me while he was leaving? He asked if I needed any help with you in here. Can you believe that, baby?” His thrusts grow even more intense. “He had the nerve to ask me if he could join in…” A scoff. “As if I’d let him touch you. As if I’d share you with anyone else.”

“Don’t want anyone else,” you murmur, eyes going unfocused from the overwhelming sensation of it all, but he speaks over you, seemingly not having heard you. Nevermind the thought that they all likely knew what would transpire in this room after they left. You hoped it was only Azriel, with how observant he was.

“I can’t blame him though, can’t really blame any of them. It’s not their fault you’re such a sneaky fucking tease. It’s a wonder they don’t feel entitled to you yet…”

His words sting, but they also go straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself clench around him. His possessiveness, his dominance — it’s intoxicating. You try to respond, but your breath is practically forced out of your lungs with a loud moan as his pace quickens again. 

“Look at you,” he continues, his voice dripping with anger and desire. “Barely able to form a sentence. Does it turn you on, knowing they all want you? Knowing that I’m the only one who gets to have you like this?”

You manage a shaky nod, and quip back. “I know it turns you on, how much you keep mentioning them.” It catches him off guard, your short moment of lucidity. For a brief second, he stills, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing again, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, you think you’re fucking clever,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re doing,” his nails dig into your skin as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “and it won’t work.”

He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot inside you that makes you gasp in pleasure, hands scrambling for purchase on him, on the lockers, on yourself. The sound echoes through the locker room, mingling with the existing ones. 

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Cassian. Only yours, please!”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone softening for just a moment before he resumes his relentless pace. “Again. Louder.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out desperately. “Only yours!” You find yourself wondering if there’s anyone left in the building, if they can hear you. You subsequently decide you don’t care. His eyes flicker down to the jersey number stretched across your chest, and a satisfied smirk forms across his lips. “Look at you, wearing my number,” his eyes are full of pride. 

You nod, lips parting with a moan. “Wanted to show everyone who I’m here for. I belong to you, Cassian.”

“Damn right, you do,” he mutters, his movements becoming more desperate than forceful. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s getting close. Each thrust, combined with that knowledge, sends waves of pleasure through your body. “I want to hear you, baby,” he demands, his voice strained with need. 

“Cassian!” you scream, your voice hoarse, broken by moans and cries. “Cassian, please!” 

His breath puffs against your neck as he groans your name in return. The sound of your combined moans and skin against skin echoes off the walls. And with a particularly powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, your cries mingling when he doesn’t stop. 

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair soothingly, coaxing him through his orgasm. He shudders against you, his grip on you gradually loosening. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours, panting heavily, his breath ragged. As the adrenaline rush fades, Cassian’s breathing slows, the intensity in his eyes softening. Slowly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

But before you can protest, he lowers you to the ground, drops to his knees, and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder to rest your foot on the bench behind him. His hands slide down your thighs, feeling the mix of your arousal and his seed. “You didn’t think I’d leave you like this, did you?” he murmurs, voice filled with a renewed hunger. His mouth descends on you without warning, his tongue gliding over your sensitive flesh, tasting both of you. The sudden jolt of pleasure makes you gasp, your hands flying to his hair as he works you. 

Cassian looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he devours you. “You taste so fucking good,” he says against you, the vibrations against your clit drawing a moan from you. His tongue works with relentless precision, each flick and swirl drawing out gasps and moans from you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as he devours you. You can feel the roughness of his calloused fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pull him closer. You rut your hips against his face, seeking more pressure, more friction. Every movement of his tongue sends shivers up your spine, your body responding to him with a need that borders on desperation. He knows exactly how to push you, bringing you close before pulling back, leaving you teetering on the brink of insanity. 

His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination. “I want to hear you,” he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and tantalizing. “Say my name.”

“Cassian,” you moan, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please, don’t stop.”

He smirks, lips curving against you as he doubles his efforts. His tongue plunges deeper, his hands squeezing your thighs tighter as he pulls you even closer. You can feel the building pressure, the coil of pleasure tightening inside you, ready to snap. 

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Good fucking girl… Come for me.”

With those words and a final flick of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, your cries echoing off the tiled walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Cassian doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of your release until you’re a trembling, boneless mess in his arms.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips glistening with a mix of your juices and his satisfaction. You feel his warmth spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he rises to his feet. His eyes blaze with a dark, possessive fire as he takes in your thoroughly spent form. There’s no need for words; the look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

Remember this, his look seems to say. Remember what happened here. 

You meet his gaze, your own eyes still hazy with the aftermath of your climax. There’s no need for further declarations or reassurances; the intensity of what just transpired speaks for itself.

[saintshigaraki]

please, if you have the time and/or are feeling generous, please expand on that horror soulmate ran idea where he likes flexing his influence and power over you while you’re on shift….what kind of restaurant does reader work at? is the high-end kind where customers who look as rich and charming as ran come often…..or is it some regular diner/local favorite and ran likes coming over to call you sweetheart and darling and he likes tipping you $50-$100 bills………………………..he tips bigger and orders so much when he brings some work associates over during their lunch break or something 0_0

dior im so glad you ask bc I've been ruminating over these very questions for like a month....

yandere tw, ran is harassing the shit out of you at work rip, soulmate au, she/her pronouns for reader

i think you work at a really small rundown sort of place open 24 hours. pulling 12-hour shifts 12 days in a row just to pay the bills. it's pure and total chance that ran and his...associates waltz into your establishment. it's late and you're so so exhausted. you absolutely do not like the look of them. they're dressed nicely, too nicely for a place like this and they don't even bother trying to hide the guns peaking out from their waistbands. and beyond that you can smell it on them. you know their type. the type that get too handsy, that hold their tips over your head. make you do a song and dance and for what? the two dollars they'll so generously leave you when all is said and done? it's a fucking joke and you hate them all before they've even said a word to you.

your feet hurt so badly that you're limping a bit when you go to greet them and the smile you put on feels carved into your cheeks, throbbing like a wound. all their faces look the same to you. a big blur of dangerous man after man after man. you write down their orders without really listening. you want this over as fast as possible. you were set to be off in an hour, but with a group this big, you know that's now nothing but a pipe dream. god you're so so tired--

"and what is it you'd recommend, darling?"

something about the voice makes your eyes shoot up. airy, smooth, and nonchalant in a way that makes you grind your teeth and reluctantly pulls your attention. there's a nauseating sort of authority in it that has your hackles raised.

you're a bit shocked when you see who has spoken. he's pretty. long hair, obviously well kept, a tattoo on the side of his neck that makes you rather nervous, but it's his eyes that makes you step back. you feel the shift in the air when your gaze meets his, a crackling energy, two halves being made whole and all the other sappy shit people say when describing their first meeting with their soulmate.

no one mentions how scary it is, though. it's like you've lost a limb. or gained a parasite. you swear you can feel him in the back of your skull, already eating away at you. you don't want this. you don't want this. take it back you almost say aloud. please please take it back.

the man (your soulmate?) doesn't say a word. there's a slight quirk on his lips, but that could be anything. could mean anything.

you take a breath. you're tired—very tired—and now you're imagining things—delusional. your heartbeat slows. everything's fine. it's fine.

"ah ran, you've left the poor thing starstruck," a man to his right says, jostling him a bit.

the man—ran—tilts his head, still waiting, rather patiently, for a reply from his apparently airheaded waitress, struck down by his pretty face.

it's rather scary, being the sole focus of his attention. it's as though he's flaying your skin from your flesh, leaving you defenseless. like you're nothing but a young girl again, alone and cold and hopeless beneath his eyes.

it takes you too long to gather your wits. "the omelets are okay, good for a cold night." you just barely manage to keep the trembling from your voice, a shrillness that would in any way reveal your fear.

he smiles now, a real one. and it scares you. so amused by you, his little shaking waitress. "just okay?" he asks, taking pleasure in teasing you no doubt.

"this isn't a place you come to if you're looking for something gourmet." better to be honest than to get their hopes up. you can smell the money on them.

he laughs and you have to bite back your tears, you really dont like him. there's terror worming it's way beneath your skin. "it was a last resort, i'll go with the omelet, darling."

+

when you bring out their food you assume that will be it, at least for a little while. you'll refill their drinks again and again and again and pray they'll be gone by 2, but the worst of it is done. you'll hide in the back for the most part until they're gone. it'll be fine.

your hopes are quite quickly dashed once you set ran's food in front of him, avoiding eye contact but unable to keep the tremor from your fingers. before you can dart away his hand lashes out, forming a shackle around your wrist. tugging you far closer to him than you'd ever want to be. 

"why don't you join us for a bit. you seem tired. perhaps you're a bit hungry too?" he asks it like a question, but you know it's not. he has that sort of authority about him that lets you know he's used to be listened to. used to giving out orders and having them followed. you don't like it, and you make excuses even though you know it'll bode badly for you.

"i can't sir, i'm so sorry, but im still working and my boss will be--"

he cuts you off quickly and uncaring. "he won't mind."

he most definitely would, you think. your boss reminds you of ran a bit, in the way that he likes to exert power over others. quick to insult you, quick to admonish and threaten. he most definitely would care if he saw you sitting with some customers, even if the rest of the place was deserted.

"sir," you start again, "i could be fired please--"

"what's his name?"

you're taken aback. a bit confused, too. "your boss, darling. what's his name?"

there's a long pause before you say anything at all.

"hikaru," you tell him at last.

he smiles at you, tugs you in even closer. "thank you."

he smells good, you think absently. expensive. 

"hikaru!" he yells suddenly, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. your boss is quick to appear, looking like a beat dog. he seems to recognize ran, and he seems to be scared of him and you really, really don't like that.

"is there something i can help you with, sir?" he asks, timid as a mouse. your heart stops. there's something wrong here, you think. there's something very wrong and it's too late. its too late.

you're sitting beside ran now, his arm wrapped around you and his hand rubbing your shaking shoulder soothingly. "you wouldn't mind if she joined us, would you? we could use the company."

your boss' eyes flit over to you, just barely, before he bows his head again. "of course not, sir. it's no problem at all."

ran turns to you at that. "you hear that, darling. no problem at all." you look down and can't help but notice drops of red marring the pristine white of his dress shirt. it's right on the cuff. it's dried now, more brown than anything else but you recognize it for what it is.

you can't help but think you've stepped into a bear trap of sorts, and now your foot has been cut clean off. you’re screaming and screaming, trying to staunch the bleeding and ran won’t stop smiling. 

[onlyseokmins]

ash and cinders • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 which just means a minor power play between them at first okay 😬 i promise it's not that bad lmao i'm just paranoid, lots of making out, oral (fem. receiving), lil bit of temp play tbh, little bit of choking, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? it's just basically me attempting to write prettily uwu WC: 4.24k A/N: soooo, this has been rotting in my drafts FOREVER!!! but yeah seokmin is my most darling, favorite boy i've ever stanned anyways ofc i couldn't help but use his elle magazine photos (yes that's how long this has been ROTTING) ahhhhh - ahem anyways this goes hand-in-hand with Mischief Maker so definitely recommend checking that one out too! heheh <3

He only stayed during the night.    

When the blanket of darkness covered even the moon with a hazy layer of clouds, leaving tiny twinkling stars for a traveler’s guide. The fire once dancing in the hearth dwindled down to scarlet embers barely emitting enough heat to fill the large quarters.

Not that it mattered.

Even as you lay naked amidst the silken sheets strewn upon the grand bed, the thought of your lover’s return alone was enough to engulf your body in a flame of burning anticipation that settles and simmers between your legs.

He had been gone far too long. A lengthy patrol around the surrounding territories had taken him away from your embrace. Although every morning the sun’s rays tickled your face as a sweet greeting and bathed you in a radiant light through the day, nights without him were by far the worst.    

Cold.    

Lonely.    

Dark.

On usual accounts, it was a grievous crime to keep the queen waiting. But you would forgive him for anything, wouldn’t you? It’s exemplified in the way he bursts through the doors without so much as a courteous knock that even your most trusted servants must abide by, water droplets dripping from his auburn bangs.

Despite the eagerness to see you as soon as possible, he refused to step foot into your chambers when reeking of blood after fierce combat and soiled with dirt from travel. You always protested. The gilded throne you reigned from, the heavy crown upon your head, and even the bed you shared — all were built upon those very foundations. But your lover insisted on only showcasing the glorious side of things to you.

The gold.    

The diamonds.

The luxuries.

All which adorned you by day. Glowing, glistening, and shining. Gems and jewels, fabrics woven from the highest quality quickly reduced to layers that only became a hindrance once it came time for his descent upon you. For you were absolutely beautiful clothed — this he very well knew — but when your whole body was bared naked for him and him alone? You were truly the definition of divine.

Those who dared to speak ill of you tried to foster ridiculous claims. Critical of the wealth in your possession. Mocked what they presumed was a lack of ambition. Wailed that you were a witch. A young monarch on an undeniable downfall to tyranny, one that would lead them all to hellfire and ruin.

Anything to validate that you were not worthy of the royal seal emblazoned across the lands in honor of a valiant leader with a royal bloodline still running through your veins.

Hypocrisy at its finest when you were the reason that they were bestowed or able to retain property linked to their names, money in their pockets, and a legacy to live by under your prosperous reign. Arrogant to cast down the very thing that elevated them to their current standing. But their greed would eventually come back to bite them. One day.

Even the religious sect whispered lowly, hidden in the shadows of the grand temples. Doubts that the king actually held a shred of affection for his partner — if the seldom visits seen visiting your chambers only when night falls were of any substantial evidence to go by. That he only lay with you out of duty, shackled and bound to an imposter who was never a faithful servant to the gods like they were.

Because not one of them truly believed that a god could ever favor, let alone love, a human.

You knew you were a savior to as many as you were also an enemy. A hindrance and a threat. A bold refusal to control or be controlled. There was nothing more to do other than lead your people as fairly as you judged. 

All the preposterous assumptions infuriated him — your devoted knight, unorthodox husband, and scandalous lover. But he manages to temper his fiery rage out of respect for you. Behind your ruthless, steely intent is a righteous and kind heart that always calls out for him, now fully vocalized and embellished by the sweet voice he's missed hearing dearly.

“Seokmin,” you murmur, grasping his warm hand once he's within reach.

An entity of many epithets with an existence worth a millennium beyond comprehension and full of worship. Yet his favorite phonetic combination he'd ever heard was the one that fell breathlessly from your lips. The closest the human tongue could get to a god’s true name. And his second favorite would be yours, the syllables rumbling in his chest like a song and you smiled in contentment.

He was back, he was home, and he was yours.

Even in the darkness, Seokmin glowed. The ethereal radiance surrounding the broad expanse of sinewy muscles easily proved his lofty status as the great god of the sun. But it was also his eyes, flickering with the unmistakable presence as one of many deities. The kind of power that has managed to refrain from turning you into ash and cinders.

Whether it's attributed to your resilience, a ruler born to stand out and lead, or an entirely different reason — or a mixture of all — Seokmin isn't really sure. He's not the first to appear in a human vessel nor the last, with at least twelve of his known brothers wandering the mortal world for various reasons.

He wonders if he's the first to bow his head willingly, though, holding back his more devious and destructive tendencies. To pay back tenfold the worship he's received since the beginning of time all to you — a mere human — yet nonetheless, his queen.

The event of swearing his undying fealty feels like it was yesterday. For a being that persists forever, it may as well have been that short ago. Every memory he etches and sears into his mind for eternity consists of you, and only you.

How could he forget? How was he supposed to bury away the confident smirk that graced your lovely lips? Would he ever not recall the first time he bent the knee in such desperation? Not for a trick or as a dark seduction that tumbles into a dreadful demise, a conquest for carnage, and an abuse of his powers. But instead for the good of humanity — however short of an era it may be.

And maybe… for more. One that his heart fears to admit, for it does not beat within his chest, but in a plane beyond the reach of mortals.

"Would you kill for me?"

"For you, anything," the god affirms. "I have laid waste to kingdoms, countries, empires, and even continents themselves. There is nothing I'm incapable of."

"And if I asked you to behead the entire entourage that has traveled with you?"

"… If it is what you will, then it is simply my command to follow. For you, I am a lone knight at your disposal."

Silken skirts flare out as does your anger when you turn away from the large windows in the tower's tiny excuse of a throne room — hardly fit for the heir — showcasing a brief flash of the lethal dagger strapped to your thigh. "Do you wish for my downfall before I've even risen to the throne? You expect me to be a tyrant, despised by the people I am meant to save? To lead?"

"Do you think I, a god, care what thoughts others conjure up in their silly little minds? I am to act on your behalf, get my hands dirty in lieu of you. No matter how morbid your desires may be."

Stepping closer, you lift his chin with the tip of a dull sword intended to be ornamental. But it may be even deadlier than the one hung at his side, metaphorically sharpened and honed by a rebel princess's innate rage. 

His little show of bowing means little with the way he stares straight at you without a shred of respect in those galaxy-filled irises. However, it is the mighty sun god who is taken aback by the hellfire burning in your gaze, hungry and powerful enough to rival his own as you scoff.

"I will show you what kind of queen this land needs, the methods we will follow, and the morals I wish to uphold. You will learn in order to understand them and enforce my will. Not only to help guide the vision I desire but to keep me accountable lest I stray. A critical misstep such as that is when I'll ask you to cut me down. Will you swear to do that for me?"

"… You dare question a god of what he can do? Your tiny, impudent human mind couldn't fathom a sliver of my capability."

"I dare to question what you can't or won't do."

"I told you, there is not a thing beyond my realm of —"

"Leave."

"… Your Highness?"

Painted lips curl in a snarl at the first address of your proper title since his arrival. "Begone, I said! Return when you feel like acting like the god you are, not simply a tool to be harnessed and used at will. Until then, I have no need for you."

Seokmin's jaw drops as you seat yourself back on the throne with a sneer and flick of your wrist for the guard to usher him out.

A challenge. 

He's been abandoned many times. Discarded and tossed to the side once his usefulness has been expended. He's left before betrayal can even be thought of — for no one points a blade at a god's back — but never has he been rejected.

It was only the beginning of how you would become many of his 'firsts' and all of his 'lasts'.

Seokmin is lost deep in the memory even with the feeling of your lips curling in a gentle smile against his — a stark contrast to your initial meeting. A nail grazes his chin, digging lightly into the skin to fully bring the god back to the present. 

You'd be offended by the habitual spacing out if he hadn't admitted to only getting lost in thoughts of you. Something he'd picked up during the routine patrols away. Though you strive to bring the god out of dwelling in the past when you're sitting right in front of him — the present — and deepen the kiss.

Yet he pulls away to tilt his head. "Do you remember what you offered to me?"

"Have I not offered you my all, my king?"

Charcoal lying dormant in the hearth flares back to life, emitting playful sparks when he chuckles. "After I returned to pledge my loyalty to you."

"Ah, even though I had you wait outside the gates for five days."

"Unfathomable for a god to hang around at the whim of a meager human, isn't it?"

"Meager?"

"To me? Yes." 

His warm exhale of amusement feels just like the breeze that fondly brushes your cheeks every morning despite the eternal humidity. It may very well be him because no matter how far away physically from you he is, Seokmin's essence radiates in every sunray that stretches across the grand skies and below.

He is everywhere and everything all the time. But he is here with you tonight once again, kissing the palm you'd placed on his cheek. With mischief flickering like a teasing flame in his eyes, the god brings your hand to his throat, encouraging you to splay your fingers across his Adam's apple.

You free yourself from his light grasp to run them ticklishly up and down the bumps of his vocal cords. The movements of swallowing ripples beneath the light scratch of your nails until he halts you by replacing a veined hand over yours and murmurs, "Squeeze."

"Ah — but I…"

He repeats it again louder when you fail to do as asked, not even daring to move a muscle. Simply staring in almost awe-filled hesitation until he guides you to tentatively do exactly as he states, "You would have done anything to strangle me back then, what has changed?"

"… You know what."

"Tell me," he says it like it's a command, eyes brightening and swirling with an authoritative amber hue though it's all in jest. "Tell me what it is, my queen."

Never one to be deterred, only Seokmin could render you motionless for so long. You do as you're instructed, the gentle pressure applied by your hand around his throat causes auburn eyelashes to flutter. The slight restriction to an airflow that isn't all that necessary for a god's survival has his eyes rolling back before they re-focus on you, half-hidden by hooded eyelids.

"Love," you murmur. For it is the answer to everything, is it not?

"Love," is echoed with a resounding voice that doesn't fully come from the tongue of the man beneath you, but bellows out from an otherworldly essence that surrounds the entire world and beyond. And at the same time, he speaks it so fondly because ultimately, he's addressing it as a title for you.

The god of the sun, as immortal as he might be, has died before. Mortal vessels manage to persevere for a fixed number of years and a feeble human body can only endure so much wear and tear. Yet Seokmin's soul still shines steadily onwards despite the memory of death over and over again lingering… and he unsurprisingly realizes that he wouldn't mind dying like this — by your hand. 

Was that love? 

But the amount of power, energy, and time, along with the unpredictable wiles of the creator would never guarantee him returning to you. Preservation of this human shell was of the utmost importance, the first time he's ever handled a vessel with care before.

Perhaps that was love.

Rather than be swept up in unpleasantries, he entertains the amusing thought of how much fragility you exercise with him. Having already released your grip far too quickly and instead, fiddle with the untied laces on his loose shirt.

"Love," he repeats, this time as a call in a raspy drawl of his own voice. 

"Hm. Or maybe it was… pity."

An eyebrow raises and the corners of Seokmin's mouth twitch upward. "Only my queen would dare to pity a god."

"It was for what you were. And who you weren't. I despise those uppity, repetitive displays of unwavering loyalty that either party can easily discard."

"Like the former king's imperial court."

"Yes." 

Your angered hiss is exactly the same as the first time you informed him of your plans to take down your father and his cult. The disgust and rage have barely ebbed even after all the progress made for a better future and as many years that have passed. 

Seokmin scans your expressions. He's always admired your spitfire that could rival his own flames. But in times when it burns long enough to possibly exhaust or hurt you, he worries. You're strong — he knows that — so many times he simply becomes the safe space where you can seethe aloud without interruption. 

"Would you rather grow dull and be poisoned because someone is not even worth keeping an eye on or the thrill of unpredictability? A constant sword dance that keeps each other on their toes, never deviating gazes from one another."

He smirks. "That sounds familiar."

You think back to earlier days with him. A stubborn royal and an even more stubborn deity. When did the challenging, pointed glares at one another change to simmering looks of desire?

Instead of your swords tangling together in an angry clash over a small matter, it was your tongues after a heated sparring session. How condescension switched to respect to something more passionate… more primal… more intimate.

"Perhaps so. But look at you now — look at how you shine."

His skin indeed glows a bit brighter as he melts further into the soft touch of your palm returning to his cheek. Thumb tracing constellations between the pair of moles on his cheek while your other finger follows the nearly invisible scar below his eye.

"Little blemishes," he had once told you, "even the body of a god bears its flaws after fighting on a battlefield."

You thought they only made him all the more perfect.

"And look at how I've fallen."

As if to demonstrate his murmured words, Seokmin moves at the speed of light — his normal pace — to lie on his back, umber strands of hair spread out like flames of fire against the grandiose bed's silken sheets.

Somehow, he'd positioned you on top of him. Much accustomed to the tiny displays of omnipotence here and there, you remain unbothered. Affectionately, you brush back his bangs. Fiery wisps of hair that seemingly move on their own accord with the amount of power that ripples through their thin fibers.

He might just be the most powerful among his fellow deities and you could wield all of that as your own because he sits obediently in the palm of your hand. Lays dociley among your silken sheets. What he's trying to prove to you — the hold you have over him — immediately enthralled under your spell as you play with his locks and softly whisper, "You're Seokmin. My Seokmin."

Despite your bare chest quite literally in his face, the god waits. Fully clothed in soft linens where he can feel every tempting pulse thundering in your precious mortal body on top of his. 

And still, he waits. 

His hands don't even reach out as you unlace his shirt. Though he has wrecked and ruined your body in a thrillingly sensual, blistering, and passionate heat of love-making before, tonight he gives himself over to you. Vulnerable and all yours for the taking, watching with faint amusement as you impatiently urge him to shed the rest of his garments.

"My queen."

"My king."

"There is no rush. We have all of eternity."

"Do we?" you breathe out and look him in the eyes as your fingers dance along his inner thigh. "Or is it only you, divine ruler of the everlasting dawn and never-ending night?"

"My graceful moon," Seokmin sighs and distracts you from grasping his weeping shaft, urging you to straddle his legs. You follow his will despite the object of your desires lying neglected between your bodies, coating your stomach in the molten saltiness that drips from it.

"My stars, my sky, my galaxy, my universe." Each title of affection is seared into your skin with a burning kiss to brand your body. Your cheek, your ear, your neck, your shoulder, and your hand. "Without you in it, the world ceases to exist."

"My sun, my warrior, my knight, my shield, and my sword." You repeat a version of your own display of worship and what he means to you — mimicking the same actions across his lithe body. "My love, it would do you good to live in the present with me. Must you think of a dire future so soon?"

"Each inhale of life thus returns an exhale of death. I dread every moment that brings me closer to your end."

"Such morbid thoughts you carry, my darling. Where is the fearless god that took a poisoned arrow to the heart and pulled it out without so much as a flinch?" 

"You think me weak when I'd take the blow of any weapon as long as it does not harm you."

The irony when you'd both been struck by invisible, non-lethal darts fired from the god of love's feathered bow. But the terrifying memory of Seokmin taking the assassination attempt in your place causes a rare, but true, fear twisting in your gut. The flash of life before your eyes changed the trajectory of your tactics and your relationship with the god. And as always he reassures you with what he knows to be the truth — for the most part.

"Nothing can hurt me as long as you're alright." 

"Then make me your goddess in return so that I will be invincible enough to protect you from harm's wrath too." 

"But that… you know I can't," he whimpers, "no matter how much I long to." 

A tear trickles down his cheek, crystallizing when it falls. Like many before and well after, all bodily fluids of the god will be found transformed as various tiny diamonds and gems. Tangled within the bedsheets the following morning as they always are and stored away in the queen's treasury.

Seokmin cries, not just at his frustrations, but at how you gingerly hold his hot and hardened length. Heavy in your palm that rubs and strokes it lovingly before sinking down with practiced ease, having already stretched yourself out earlier while waiting. Undulating your hips in slow, controlled circles that make him dizzy with desire. Your words pierce his chest, paining him like no sword that sliced him open could ever compare.

"If fate will not let it happen, then bury me in the ground so I can thrive beneath your warm rays that whisper sweet nothings. Let me smile up at you after winter passes while I bloom brilliantly through spring and long into the heated days of summer. Weave my soul among the stars so I may greet you in the morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. Scatter my ashes into the windy gusts of the north and down the silver rivers flowing south so I may laugh and dance in the skies alongside your sunbeams."

He sobs at the poignant emotional tug of your words, every poetry waxed by your breathy voice punctuated by a tantalizing undulation of your hips. You reassuringly clench around him, foreheads and bodies pressed together, hands clasped tightly in each other's grasp.

The god's chest heaves and the mountains on the eastern border shift to the left. Sometimes the air cools when this occurs but tonight, it shimmers and glistens as if straining against his commands. A hot wave that threatens to distort the very seam of reality itself. 

"I will always be yours," you kiss the corner of his trembling lips, "and you mine, my darling god."

"My sweet goddess, my everything… my love."

Seokmin's hips buck up anxiously and you let him lead the pace. Wild thrusts take over as he chases that high, wanting and needing to take you over that peak with him. Your body lays prone against him, along for the jostling ride as the god seeks his own pleasure through and with you. Praises and worship fall from his lips, never failing to be in awe of how your cunt molds and works his cock like a blacksmith shapes an iron rod yet he can bully it as he wants to fit him. Only him. 

You were made for the god of the sun.

Golden ichor thrums through his veins, lighting his skin in flashes like the sparks of embers. He's beautiful. Otherworldly. Your lips capture each glowing pulse of godliness that erupts beneath his flesh with a tender peck. He's all yours.

And he was made for you.

When Seokmin plunges into your welcoming warmth that is his alone to claim before he finally succumbs, it's blinding. On the other side of the earth, the sun shines a little brighter. A harsh glint that already emits a sweltering heat from its fiery nature flares even hotter in the blue sky. A blessed priestess looks up in contemplation, waving away the worried maidens who tend to her every need.

You feel his large hands — one presses in a bruising hold between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. Keeping you flush against him, holding your body to his while you welcome inside the scorching spurts of his seed within your womb that feel like lava. Your walls flutter around him and he basks in the feeling of them pulsating as you jerk your hips 

"Come," he begs out. It's loud and resounding. More of an instinctual command if anything and your body almost obeys unwittingly, unaware of his intent before he lifts you up with inhuman strength and clarifies, "Up here," and sits you on your rightful throne — his face, "where you deserve, the queen of queens. My queen. My love. My goddess."

He laps at you like a dehydrated dog. Both cleaning you up and creating an even bigger mess. Your thighs squeeze tightly around the sides of Seokmin's head, one hand tugging harshly at his hair and the other mercilessly wrinkling the silk bed sheets. His moans are sweet songs of praise but muffled as he sucks his release out of your cunt only to push it back inside with his tongue. The addition of globs of spit accompanying the still-hot, smeared mess causes your own sounds to grow much louder, writhing on top of him from the sloppy sensations.

Back and forth he repeats this a couple of times, the firm point of his nose stimulating your sore clit in his efforts. And finally, you come undone — spasming on top of Seokmin's chin and suffocating him just like he likes. Breathing and drowning in your essence, the very elixir of life.

"I shall make you mine," he whispers later, dutifully laying your deliciously aching but clean body onto freshened sheets. Your lover is ever so attentive, rarely nearly needing the same amount of aftercare he showers upon you.

For he is a god from the heavens to bestow blessings upon his desired mortal.

"I am already yours."

"But for all of eternity, it shall be so."

Satiated and content, you reach for him. He lovingly takes your hand and presses a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers. "How?"

"The Mother. She's the closest thing we have to the Creator and might be older than the universe itself. There's nothing she doesn't know so I'm sure she'll have the answers I seek."

"Must you leave so soon?"

Seokmin smiles as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. "The sun never fails to rise, my dear. I will be back before you know it bringing with me tidings of great news."

"I'll be waiting."

Your shared kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet and full of sentiment. Indeed, you always wait for him and the sun god leaves with a full heart of hope. Little does he know, and little do you suspect, the true one lying in wait was the shadowed figure holding a poisoned dagger beneath their cloak.

And so, with the death of a queen so loved by the god of the sun… the prophecy begins.

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[yoongihan]

Happenstance - SCB - OneShot

pairing: 3rachaChangbin x femcharacter

genre: travel au, fluff, smut, little angst, strangers to lovers,

romantic trope: love at first sight (inspiration from this reel)

word count: ~18k

rating: M

warnings: mc invites strangers to dinner amongst other things (DO NOT RECOMMEND), kissing, penetrative sex, ridiculous amount of haggis discussion, food and drink, some language, changbin with fluffy hair, dressed in hoodies. honestly, i don't think there's too much concerning in this one, apologies if I've missed something.

a/n: fic #4 in skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. in case you read my answers to asks, this is the first story i started that i didn't finish until yesterday (I apologize for every single mistake that i probably missed). which means, this took me over seven months. i have no idea why something as 'simple' as love at first sight required me to write nearly 18000 words!! anyway, um, hope you like it.

--------

You don’t really mind being alone. It’s a lot easier to just pack up your stuff, yourself and go on your adventures when you don’t have to consider another person and their preferences.

It gets lonely, but it works for you.

At the train station with your backpack and one rolling suitcase, waiting for your train in London at Kings Cross station that will take you to Edinburgh. It’s a long journey, over eleven hours, but you saved up and for the very first time, got yourself a sleeper cabin. There weren’t any singles available, as the classic cabin comes with twin bunk beds, but you figure the extra space can’t hurt. 

Who’d go with you anyway?

You bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for the train. This experience is less about the scenery as it’s mostly at night, but the getting to sleep in a bed (the sleeper seats aren’t horrible, but they aren’t exactly great if you really want a good night’s rest) on a train is something you haven’t gotten to do yet. 

You like Scotland and you haven’t been since you started this work. Inverness sits at the top of Loch Ness, and there are so many picturesque places to visit once you’re there. Then you’ll take the train back, but during the day, so you get to see what you couldn’t on the overnight train. 

You have one earbud in, listening to a soft playlist you made mostly full of Sufjan Stevens, Fleet Foxes, and Band of Horses. Only one earbud as you need to make sure you hear any important announcements and you also really enjoy eavesdropping, especially when everyone has a much more interesting accent than you. You’re glancing back at the announcement board as though something might have changed in the last minute (it would just be the worst luck if it got canceled…what would you do in London…go to a museum or something?). 

The train is arriving and you just want to dance around like a fool. No one should be this excited to sleep on a train, but you are. As you queue behind a few others, you glance down the track, taking in the people who will presumably be sleeping near you. It seems like a diverse group, some people dressed nicer than you, as though they are having a work meeting on the train (with computer and phone cameras…maybe they are), some look like they might already have on their pyjamas. There are heads of grey and white, long plaits of blonde and red, fluffy short black hair. 

All types. 

You board and glance at the signage, looking for the arrows to connect you to cabin 25. Slipping past a family of three who are speaking in what sounds like German to your unknowledgeable ear, you glance at the descending numbers. 

There’s a small scanner on the door (how far tech has come), and you scan your phone over it, the QR code for your ticket allowing you access. As you open the door, you look down at the male voices coming from the other end of the carriage. 

There are three of them. 

In your travels, you see a lot of people, but unless it’s a commuter-type train during work or drinking hours, you don’t run into men of a certain age, and certainly not on an overnighter covering the length of England. 

Certain age being mostly like twenties, mid-twenties if you had to guess. And though you’ve definitely seen a good-looking man a time or two, it’s rare to see them en masse like this. One is carrying two duffle bags, his hair a wavy platinum blonde. He is attempting to pull out his phone and scan like you just had. The second one is whining about the first one taking too long. It’s not really complaining, because he wears a smile in between the pouts. In fact, when he glances over the third’s head, he sees you and smiles brilliantly. 

You smile back, embarrassed at being caught staring, but if you blushed every time you did something socially forward, you would be a permanent tomato. 

The door finally opens for them and that’s when the third one turns around, presumably because he noticed the second one looking at you. He’s the shortest, and even before he turns, you notice that he’s very broad from the back, despite the guitar case blocking your view. 

When his eyes meet yours, your brain definitely tucks away the recognition that he’s wearing black-framed glasses, eyes a warm brown, black hair curly and fluffy, completely dressed in a black t-shirt, black joggers, and black sneakers (a motif one might say). You see all of that, but it doesn’t really connect.

Because something happens. 

No lightning from the sky, or voice, or whatever occurs when something big changes. You’re just oddly aware that your heart is beating at a rate that only occurs when you're winded, that your anticipation has gotten more like anxiety, and you would very much like to ask his name. 

So you disappear into your cabin, not sure of anything anymore. 

“It said four.”

“Well, there’s two, Chan.”

“But it said four.”

You sit on the bottom bunk, watching the fading sunlight out the window, your heart rate seeming to slow down. The fact that you can hear your neighbors’ conversation doesn’t bode well for your sleeping tonight. 

But you always pack earplugs. 

“Must be a mix-up. Find a…what do they call them?”

“Station agent?”

“Porter?”

“Train guy?”

You cover your mouth so you don’t laugh too loudly at the final suggestion. You stand up and start to unpack your few things; pajamas, toiletries, two books, and journal. You can hear one of them opening the door and calling down the corridor. 

“Yes sir.” It’s a few minutes (you’ve actually journaled a whole page by this point) when there’s footsteps and a response. 

“I booked for three people, for one of the cabins with two sets of bunk beds.”

“Ah yes…” There’s a clearing of one throat. “We only have a small amount of those, and unfortunately the original train set for this journey had to be changed at last minute. Mechanical issues. You were refunded.”

“That’s not very helpful as I still have only two beds and three people.”

Another clearing of the throat. 

“Yes, well, the train is fully booked. I can supply another set of sheets and pillows.”

“You’re saying our only option is one of us to sleep on the floor?”

“I am very sorry, sir.”

There’s a couple of very very deep sighs. 

“Thank you anyway.”

The ‘train guy’ must leave because you hear furtive discussion; with foreign words you aren’t sure about, but it seems like ‘rock, paper, scissors’ has the same rhythm no matter the language.  

You are on the top bunk, eyes moving from your book to your door. 

It’s dumb, even for you, but you feel like you have to. You have decent intuition about people, at least on a level if they are dangerous or not. And none of your neighbors set off your warning bells or mental red flags. 

So you jump down and open your cabin door, leaving it open in case you need to run back in and like, hide due to extreme embarrassment. 

One deep breath and you knock on their door.

It opens and the blonde stands there, you can see the other two behind him. 

“Hey neighbor,” the blonde greets you with a weary smile, but a smile nonetheless. It makes you grin more easily.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but I heard…” You wave with your hand at the beds in their room. “I have an extra bed.”

All three of them sort of freeze at your words. You don’t blame them. You are an unaccompanied female on a trip, talking to three men you don’t know. Offering a place to sleep to a stranger. 

“You…aren’t serious?” The one who had been whining earlier spoke up first. 

“I think she is,” the third one…the one you actually can’t look at closely right now (though his voice is enough to set your heart rate back up to jumpy). 

“I am.” You shrug. “I know it’s weird. I don’t know you guys. But there’s dinner in the dining car in like an hour. We could have dinner? Chat? Make sure none of us is a serial killer?” 

Are you asking three men out? 

“One of you needs a bed. I have one. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” says the blonde. “But…” He looks at his friends (you assume, maybe they’re all together which makes your proposal of dinner even more awkward), “We do need a bed.” He looks back at you. “I’m Chan. We’ll have dinner, and no hard feelings if you decide to take it back.”

His smile is warm and you would swear in a court of law that this man is one of the safest humans on the planet. 

“Deal.”

“Jisung,” He points to the one that had smiled at you so brilliantly. He grins again, but it’s shy. 

“Changbin.”

Oh. 

So you meet his eyes again for a second time, hoping you’re prepared. 

It’s still there, maybe less surprising because you are expecting it. You know his name now. You know that he still hasn’t smiled at you (which feels tragic somehow), but doesn’t look angry or disgusted by you (a triumph to be sure).

He seems perplexed, which you can’t blame him for. Your offer is certainly perplexing.

“Nice to meet you,” you stutter a little, but deliver your name without too much embarrassment. “So, I’ll see you in an hour?”

There are verbal affirmations and some nodding and you hurry back, wondering if you can even focus on anything other than the fact that you might be sleeping with in the same cabin with one of them later. 

–

You question yourself as you walk to the dining car (you did your makeup and now you think you’re a little silly), wondering if they’ll even show. Like how damn strange are you to offer a bed to three men you do not know? They probably don’t even want to be near you now.

There’s a host at the front of the carriage and you give him your cabin number. 

“I’m waiting on someone…s.” And your ability to speak has been hijacked by your nerves. You’ve spent the last hour in your cabin, earbuds in so you don’t eavesdrop on anything you might hear from next door (not that they only speak in English, but still. It feels invasive). Your mind has tumbled over itself trying to understand what you had done, had said, and the eeriness of how the third man affects you.

Changbin. 

He isn’t your type, as pointless as you think having a type even is. You’ve never found impressive muscles all that impressive.

But...

“Someones? How many?” The host asks you and you feel weirdly interrogated by him, like maybe he doesn’t believe anyone would be sitting with you. That you’d lie about something like that. For what? A table to yourself?

“Um, I think, three.” Confidence would probably be a handy thing right now. 

“Three?”

You open your mouth to reiterate the number of guests when you feel a presence behind you. And you know, even though this is the closest he’s ever been that it’s him. 

“Three,” he states, voice scratchy. You feel his gaze on you. “The other two are coming.”

You swallow and look over. 

But…he is really attractive. 

He’s wearing trousers and a button-down. The dining car does encourage more formal dress and you’ve even slipped on a skirt and nice top for it. His hair is still fluffy and he still wears the glasses, which makes him look way more scholarly than he had just an hour ago. 

“Hi.”

He hasn’t given you much to go on if he feels the same strangeness when you meet eyes or even if he is aware of you beyond that you exist. But there’s a lift at the corner of his lips, a hint of a smirk or smile and it’s devastating. 

“Hey,” he replies, still with that half-grin. “You look nice.”

Oh god, he complimented you?!

“Um, thanks.” You try and pretend that your brain can engage quicker than it is currently. “You do too.” You gesture vaguely. “I like the glasses.”

You do not know this man and yet when the half-grin grows into a full grin, maybe a touch bashful, it feels very familiar and comforting. Like you’ve never seen him smile before and it’s beautiful, but also, that’s exactly how you feel he should smile.

What the fuck is going on right now?

“Jisung can’t tie a tie to save his life, so Chan’s doing it for him,” he explains before looking at the host. “Can we sit or do we have to wait until they get here?”

“We prefer the parties to be all present when–”

“Sure thing.” Changbin makes eye contact with you again and you know that he’s amused at the level of formality the host is emanating. “We’ll be here.” He gestures for you to move over to the side so the next people waiting can move up. He follows and leans against the carriage wall next to you. 

He’s not uncomfortably close by any means, but there’s not ample amounts of space in trains, so he’s close.

He smells good.

“So, what brings you and um, your friends to Scotland?” you begin, willing confidence into your voice and posture. He’s watching the entrance to the dining car but glances at you, the mirthful turn of his lips coming back. 

“Ah, well, inspiration.”

You straighten up. You don’t know what you expected, but that wasn’t it. 

“Really? For what?”

He regards you for another second or two, like he’s seeing if you’re really interested, or if you can be trusted. 

“What’s your guess?”

Way to put you on the spot.

“Damn, that’s unfair.”

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest (ARMS). “Yeah, how so?”

“Anything I say will be based on stereotypes. Like I met you an hour ago.”

“Still invited one of us to bed.”

His voice drops with those words and you wonder if he can see the shiver that goes through you (you try and not visibly react, but holy fuck). 

“Yes, well, no red flags.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Unless my detection skills for serial killers are rusty.”

The half-grin again. “Hmm. How do you know your skills are even competent?” His eyes widened. “Have you met a serial killer?”

You laugh because he seems to legitimately think you might have. And there’s something really refreshing about the fact that he has no idea what field you’re in. Maybe you have.

“You first.”

He eyes you with concession. “Musicians. You?”

“Musicians? Really?” 

“No…” he points at you. “You have to say what you do.”

“No I don’t.”

That’s when his friends arrive, with you and a man you don’t know staring at each other in a mock-battle of wits.

“Interrupting something?” Chan says, nearly laughing.

“She…” Changbin starts then his shoulders drop. “I don’t even know.” He glares at you with no malice before going back to the host. 

“Hi again,” you greet them both. Also dressed in somewhat formal attire, Chan and Jisung are as handsome as the man you are thrown by. 

“Hi,” Chan replies and behind him Jisung waves in tiny . 

All of you are ushered to your table. You sit next to the carriage window even though it’s nearly too dark to see outside. There’s a moment of awkwardness as the three of them seem to nonverbally communicate as to where to sit. 

Changbin sits next to you. HIs arm brushes yours as he gets situated and it happens again: the heartbeat, the anticipation, but it’s mellower, more familiar. 

A server comes to the table and the next few minutes are spent in ordering food and drink. You all decide to get a bottle of wine to share.

“So, Changbin says your musicians?” you begin before taking a sip of the merlot, swishing it around in your mouth as though that would tell you something. You’ve done a wine tour or five, and you kinda get it, but you don’t really. It’s just wine. 

You can see both Jisung and Chan look at Changbin in surprise. 

“Oh, he did?” Chan asks, something underlying the innocuous remark. Teasing of some kind; as guys often do. “Yeah.”

“I saw a guitar.” They all look at you and you flush a bit. “I mean, when I saw you guys coming down the hall. There was a guitar case.”

“Observant.” You can just tell Changbin is paying attention. If only to figure out what you do.

“A bit.”

“Musicians…” Chan begins. “Is a little misleading. We can all play, but…” He takes a sip of wine. “We don’t play, like, one of us on drums, a bass, and an electric guitar.” 

“So, non-traditional.” You rest your chin in your hand. 

“We rap,” Jisung says, twisting his wine glass by the stem. “Me and Bin mostly, Chan does the beats, mixes.”

“Ohhhh.” You straighten up. “Okay, that’s awesome…so, do you have a gig in Edinburgh?”

“No, just to write,” Chan sighs. “We’ve been a little stuck lately and yeah.” He looks so despondent about it, so you pat his hand before taking another sip of your wine. He smiles at you like the physical comfort is normal.

“We have a deadline for a full album and we’re way behind,” Changbin explains further and you look over at him. 

“You all are represented and everything? That’s amazing.”

He waves it away as the other two verbally dismiss such an accomplishment. “What about you? What do you do?”

You grin at Changbin’s apparent annoyance that you’ve kept it from him for this long. The corner of his lips lifts in an almost smirk.

Fuck, it’s attractive. 

“Um. Content creator.”

There’s a collection of laughs from them.

“So are we,” Changbin says, leaning a bit closer. “Wanna be more specific?” 

You know you don’t have a great poker face, so when he gets that close, you’re sure all three of them can see that you’re affected. Your face heats, and your breath catches just for a split second.

When have you ever been this partial to a stranger before?

“Travel. Writer, vlogger,” you answer with a lift of your shoulders. He leans back and it’s like you can breathe easier. “I’ve never done a sleeper train before, so here I am.”

There’s a moment where they are all quiet, looking at you with various expressions of incredulity.

“You get paid to travel?”

You laugh at Jisung’s question. “Kinda? I mean, I go and make the content before I’m paid, hoping that someone will want it…monetize it, etc.” It’s always an interesting thing, to see what people think when you explain how you make a living. Some think you must be famous (not even close), or full of shit (maybe you are, but not about work), or some place along that spectrum. 

“That’s amazing,” Changbin speaks next, his tone more thoughtful than sarcastic or derogatory. 

“I’m jealous. I’m so freakin jealous,” Jisung pouts and then sips his wine. “Wait, so when you took a picture of the wine bottle and glass with your lipstick stain on it…it was for work.”

You nod. “It’s honestly the only time I wear lipstick. I kind of hate it most of the time.” You add credence to your words by wiping off your lips with a tissue from the tissue pack you always keep in your purse. Then doing the same to the glass. “Lipstick residue never comes off in the dishwasher…I used to wash for the local tavern in my hometown. The worst.” 

They’re all three looking at you again with various expressions. You think the expressions are positive, but you’ve only known them for an hour and most of that hour you were in your cabin, journaling. 

“Do you have a niche?” Chan asks, “Like a specific type of travel or anything?”

You shrug. “I like train travel. This is my first sleeper cabin, so that’ll be of some focus. But I have a few places in Edinburgh to capture as well.”

“And you can live off of this?” Changbin answers. “Why the fuck are we writing music?” 

You laugh with the others at his thunderstruck question. You turn a bit more toward him, watching how his gaze drops to your now-naked lips then back to your eyes. 

“Because you love it. I assume.” You feel your cheeks heat when he smiles at your sentimentality. The waiter returns to receive your orders, and you try not to smile too large that everyone orders something different. You hope they’ll let you photo each meal. 

“Why Scotland for inspiration?”

Both Changbin and Jisung look at Chan who shrugs, a bit sheepish. 

“Always wanted to. We spend most of our time in South Korea or Australia, so this seemed like something different.”

“‘Stairway to Heaven’ was written on Loch Ness, too,” Jisung offers.

“Yeah, in the house of the creepy af Aleister Crowley…” You lean forward and drop your voice. “You’re not going there, are you?”

“No,” Changbin chuckles. “But you know that story?”

“I’m full of useless knowledge,” you answer. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Changbin asks you. “The traveling and vlogging?”

“A while. The living off of it, only a few years.” You shake your head when he opens his mouth. “My turn. Tell me about how you three became rappers, musicians, a crew.”

“Gonna use it in your content?” Chan asks, a touch of amusement, but also more caution. 

You shake your head. “Not without permission. And usually my stuff is less with people and more places, food, drink. I will totally ask if I can take a photo of each of your meals.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Changbin says. “If you get part of my hand, though, I expect compensation.”

And with that joking remark, your eyes immediately focus on his hands. That’s not a feature you usually think much about in your attraction to men. It takes more about personality and smile, and maybe a lanky form. 

But it says everything about this whole strange experience that when you look at his hands, you actually shiver.

God, this is so damn weird.

“Of course,” You answer. “Also…you didn’t answer. How did you three meet?”

Again, both Changbin and Jisung look at Chan.

“You’re in charge, huh?”

Chan blushes, which is adorable. “I mean…kinda, but just cause I started us…”

“What he will never say is that he studied music production and then found us at the same school, basically said ‘fuck school let’s do our own thing’ and we’ve saved money on tuition and made money…though nothing like insane.” Changbin leans back in his chair, his arm falling to the back of mine before his eyes widen and he drops it. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve already invited one of you into my cabin…What are social rules at this point?” You just have no filter today, but the answering laughter from them is comforting. “Since you asked me, what is your niche? Like love songs?”

“Rap love songs?” Jisung asks, mildly disgusted. 

“Love songs is a pretty wide spectrum,” you argue. “From unrequited, to innocent, attraction to just sex, broken hearts, betrayal, cheating. It’s all over the place.” Your question isn’t all that random. Out of the corner of your eye, you’re watching Changbin the moment you mention ‘love’ as though he might say or do something that’ll give you indication that he’s also feeling the same lunacy that you are undergoing.

Nothing. Nothing but just him listening and having a piece of the rustic bread dipped in olive oil the server placed on your table. 

“She has a point. We do write love songs if that’s the umbrella,” Chan says and Jisung pouts again, but while he’s chewing on the bread, his cheeks full, and he looks just like a small woodland creature. “But I wouldn't ever market them as love songs.”

“Doesn’t fit the hip hop crew vibe?”

Changbin snorts. “Not so much.”

“So. What do you write about?” You plop your chin in your hand. “I admit my rap and hip hop knowledge is less than my obscure trivia about Boleskine House.”  

Jisung speaks up, “Just stuff we’re dealing with.” He glances at Chan. “Probably more about growing up and figuring out who you are more than anything.”

“Relatable,” you reply on an exhaled breath. All three of them smile. “Sorry, that was pretty obvious. I guess everyone is still figuring it all out, huh?”

The food arrives a few minutes later and after you get the perfect shots of all the dishes (there are a few with their hands because it’s too aesthetic not to do so) the conversation turns to places to see and visit in Edinburgh and the surrounding areas, things to do, etc. 

“Oh, I’ll definitely try haggis,” you say. 

“Really?” Jisung makes a face. “Isn’t it like…gross?”

“I tend to try most food at least once. I’ve already done blood pudding.” Which means you have to explain it to them. The trio of disgusted faces makes you laugh. “It’s not bad with ketchup.” 

“Bin would probably do the same, though.” Jisung points at him with a beef-laden fork. “He eats anything.”

You turn to Changbin, noting the slight reddening in his cheeks and narrow-eyed glare he gives to Jisung. 

“It’s called being adventurous,” you say in support. “And food is a gift.” You gesture to your plate. “Case in point.”

“A gift?” Chan prompts. 

“I mean, we didn’t have to have taste buds, right? Like we could just have evolved or been created, whatever your origin stance is, without. Food could just be sustenance, something we do without thought, like breathing. But we have all these receptors that give us pleasure.”

“Or disgust,” Jisung says before taking another bite, the cheeks filling out again. 

“Is there pleasure without pain?” 

“Jeez, we got deep,” Chan says, chuckling.

“Could be your next song. The listener will think it’s about life or sex or whatever, but it’s just the three of you debating about food.”

“Life or sex or whatever?” Changbin repeats, turning a little toward you. You make eye contact (maybe you’ve had too much wine), eyebrows up in curiosity. He gestures that you should continue. 

“All literature, and I’d include lyrics in that, boils down to being about love or death. Or simply sex or death.”

Again, it might be the wine, but you swear that when you mention sex his eyes focus more on you. There’s just a slight flicker. 

“And that’s not an original,” you quickly say before going back to your meal. “I learned that in the infinite amount of Lit classes I took in college.” 

“I guess that’s true.” Chan looks thoughtful. “Our songs about identity and growing up is pretty much about doing what you can before death.”

“Speaking of getting deep,” Changbin says. “We should go back to talking about food.” 

“Or pleasure?” Jisung teases. 

Chan cuffs him on the back of the head. He just grins at his friend like being physically chastised is commonplace. 

Probably is. 

It’s brief, the moment of melancholy that hits you when you think of this three-person friendship and how so much of what you do is solitary. 

You blink it away and take another bite of your sea bass, listening to them discuss Edinbrugh castle and the village they have an AirBnb in after two days in the city. 

“Please?” Jisung whines. “We can share the molten chocolate cake?” 

Chan rolls his eyes. “But I don’t want any.”

“I’ll share it with you, Jisung,” you offer. “That or the cheesecake sounds really good.”

“We could do both.”

You giggle at his excited expression. “We could do that.”

“Amazing,” Jisung is thrilled. “You are amazing.” 

“I am often lauded for my sweet tooth.” 

“Only for your sweet tooth?”

The lower tone makes you look at Changbin again. Chan is ‘scolding’ Jisung on the other side of the table about too many sweets and how he’ll be hyper and not sleep, so for the second time this evening, it looks like you and Changbin are speaking alone. 

“Only?” you ask to clarify.

He grins. “I mean, you just used the word ‘lauded’ in regular conversation. I feel like you might get compliments in general.”

“For using big words? Or weird ones? Not really.” 

“Well.” He regards you for a few seconds, eyes not leaving your face. “It’s impressive.”

Your face heats before you can deflect and you drop your gaze because his is overwhelming. 

“Thanks.” 

Dessert is ordered and when received, devoured (even by Chan). When the bill comes, there’s an argument about letting them pay for you, which is won by Jisung saying that since he ‘bullied’ you into getting dessert with him, they should cover it all. You acquiesce only because you convince them to let you get breakfast tomorrow morning (wow, isn’t that suggestive). 

You’ve never been walked to your door before by three men. Granted, they’re just next door and you’ve also never been walked to a train cabin door before. But you recognize that if anyone paid attention to your little party, they might be envious.

You’re kinda envious. Of yourself.

Three of you pause at your door. Jisung continues to the cabin before realizing that everyone else has stopped and readily looks abashed as he comes back the six feet. 

“So,” you begin, scanning your phone over the pad on the door. “I don’t think any one of us is an axe murderer.”

There’s a collective chuckle.

“Who uses axes anymore,” Jisung says before considering. “I don’t suppose that really helps my case.”

Chan pops him lightly on the back of the head again. “I think,” he says to you. “That whoever can just sleep on the extra bed. We’ll keep all our stuff and such in our cabin. If you’re still okay with this. It’s really alright if you’re not. Ax murderers or not, it’s your space.”

You glance at Changbin, remembering the warmth of his arm when it pressed against yours randomly through dinner. 

“That’s fine. I guess brushing your teeth in front of a stranger is pretty weird.”

You hear Changbin’s snort of amusement before looking at him again. It’s hard not to stare at him. It was actually good he sat next to you during dinner, so you had to make the effort to look at him, so it was easy to tell and force yourself not to. Because that’s what you want to do. Memorize everything about him. The line of his jaw, the placement of his dimples when he grins, the rapid-fire of his laugh. 

God, you’re going to need some serious time to process what is going on with you. 

“Yeah, just knock whenever,” you continue, forcing yourself to look away from him. “I’ll probably stay up for a bit to journal and take some notes.”

You don’t ask who will be using the empty bed in your cabin. It’s too weird, beyond what this already is, but you are trying not to give away the way one man keeps stealing your attention and focus. 

You have never done a one-night stand and you don’t think that in a train cabin next to his friends would be a good place to start. 

You bid them a good night and enter your cabin. You lean on the closed door and let out a huge sigh before hurriedly getting ready for bed in the worry that maybe one of them will show up soon.

Also, you probably don’t need all your underthings just out to be seen.

You settle in your pajamas (sweatshirt and shorts because you always forget to buy fun pjs) and situate your laptop and journal in the bottom bunk. More time passes than you think it would take a guy to get ready, but it is kind of early to go to sleep, so you work on just focusing on organizing and writing copy for what you captured today. 

You’re working on describing your supper in good detail when there’s a knock on your cabin door. 

You almost fall in your stumble to get to the door, opening it and staring.

“Hey.”

Changbin, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and nylon shorts, stands there, the half-grin in place. He has a small backpack over his shoulder. 

“Hi.” You step back to let him in, watching as he closes the door behind him. “It’s a good look.” You speak before thinking. 

He laughs, leaning on the door. “Thanks, I try.” His eyes drop to take in your sleepwear. “Also, a good look.”

“Scantily-clad lingerie is so overrated.”

“Is it?”

God, you really shouldn’t have wine.

“Um, I took the bottom bunk.” You point to the beds. “Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s your room. I’m just grateful to not have to sleep on the floor. Or try and drown out Jisung’s snoring.” He moves easily toward the beds, climbing up to the top, slinging his bag on the mattress. 

“No axes in there?”

He plops down, legs having over the side and his grin widens. “Just a tiny one. In case I need to defend myself.”

“From me?” 

“Or Dementors.”

It’s easy to laugh and it decreases the tension a little especially when he swings his legs as you move back to your little nest on your bed. 

“So. What’re you doing?” He moves so he’s laying down and looking over the side of the bunk at you. You look up, finding the fact that you chose to put the man on top of you (with space and a bed in between but still) probably a dumb dumb idea. 

“Working. Or more like brainstorming. I still need to figure out where I want to go, when, how, etc. I make itineraries, but really flexible ones because if I’m too rigid, I don’t have fun.”

“Makes sense.” He goes quiet for a second. “Can I…be really self-involved for a second?”

“Absolutely. It’s encouraged.”

He grins again and hurries down to the floor next to where you have tucked yourself in. He gestures to the open space at the foot.

You nod and he sits before offering wireless headphones. 

“Want to listen to something we finished last week?”

“Absolutely,” you say again, reaching out with almost ‘grabby hands’. He laughs at your enthusiasm and leans in to place the headset over your ears. Your smile fades with him that close. It’s a move, it has to be. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His face is about a foot or so away from yours and you want to touch his cheeks and feel if they are soft and smooth like they appear. He meets your eyes once the headphones are in place and there’s a softness in his curled lips. 

You absolutely want to kiss a stranger. 

He sits back and opens his phone to press play. “Too quiet?”

The instrumentation is soft, so you nod and he presses the side of his phone a few times before you nod again. 

You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. It’s not hip hop, with its intense beats and rhythm. There is synth and piano at a much softer, flowy-ier tempo. 

“Oh it’s pretty,” you say quietly. He smiles but then looks down at the phone as you listen. You wonder if he can sense where you are in the song with just watching the time counter move along. 

You wonder who does the higher notes, whose voice is harsh and rough, who sounds more like he could be in a choir. 

The song ends abruptly and you startle at it, glancing at Changbin. 

“We don’t have the ending quite right yet.”

“I think it should fade out,’ you say, again without thinking. “I mean, I know nothing about how to put a song together–”

“But you like music, so noted.” His smile is warm. “You liked it?”

“Very much. It’s…what I could understand cause I assume Korean?”

“You assume correct.” 

“It’s about dreams changing? Like how you wanted one thing and you realize that what you wanted has changed into something perhaps less impressive, but still matters to you?” Your eyes widen as you remove the headphones. “Or I could be projecting.”

He chuckles and reaches out for the headphones, his hand touching yours and you try to not shiver at the errant contact (can you still blame the wine?).

“No, that’s there. Maybe not as thought out as what you just said.” He fiddles with the headphones. “You’re really smart.”

“No. I just overthink.”

He makes a face at you, disapproving. “You’re smart. Take the compliment. The lauding.” 

You look away, feeling flushed. “Thank you.” Then you look back. “It’s really beautiful, Changbin. Like I was going to search for your music anyway, and listen and then decide how to tell you what I thought without being like super judgy or whatever, but wow.”

“Thanks.” He nods to your computer. “I showed you mine, you show me yours?”

The terminology (innuendo, wtf) makes you feel more than you should about trading work content with someone, but you nod and turn your laptop around, finding your YouTube channel and choosing a video from last year when you were in Barcelona, walking around to see every Anton Gaudi piece of architecture. He watches, occasionally glancing up at you.

“You don’t show yourself much.”

“Oh, yeah, well, it’s not about me. It’s about the experience. No one needs to see me to see the food, the sights.” 

“But they can hear you.” You do narrate quite a bit.

“Well, that’s done mostly after because then I can figure out what I want to say, clearly.”

“You have a nice voice.”

“Oh. Thank you.” You point to his phone. “Which voice are you?”

“Which do you think?” 

“That’s not fair. Our speaking voices don’t always match our performing ones.” You pout and he grins. 

“Guess.”

You sigh as though it’s a burden and he chuckles, eyes back on the video. 

“The low one. Like the raspier one.”

He smirks. “Good guess.”

“It’s nice. Like rough, but soothing too?” 

He stares at you as the video ends. 

“What?” Now you’re even more flustered. 

“Dunno. Kinda fascinated.”

You want to ask him. Does he feel it too? This weird something between you. But you actually think that might make the strange occurrence of him sleeping above you even more awkward. 

You turn your laptop back around and look at the screen like you can focus on anything but him. 

“I, uh, won’t be up much longer,” you begin, stuttering a bit as you can still feel his eyes on you. “So you can sleep soon.”

“We tend to late hours, the guys and me, so it’s more like I might keep you up.”

Your eyes dart to his, the tension back so strongly that you actually curl your fingers into the bedding as though it might keep you from reaching out to touch him. 

“Oh.” Smooth, very smooth.

He sits back, but doesn’t make any move to remove himself from your bed. “So…I feel like you should definitely see us at some point. Like come to Linlithgow when we’re there.”

“I should?”

He nods, resting on the opposing wall. HIs feet are still off, but the rest of him is on your bed. It’s intimate, a sleepover with a friend. 

A really attractive friend.

“Like after you do what you need to in the city…?” He glances at his hands then at you. “If you want.”

“I wouldn’t not want.”

He laughs.

“Sorry, that was terrible English,” you wave it away. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you guys though. You’re doing this to work.”

“Inspiration comes from all types of things. Including new people.” He looks like he might say more, but moves to get off the bed and you feel it acutely. “Besides,” he says as he starts back up into his bunk. “It shouldn’t all be work, right? All work, no play and all that?”

Why does he have to look so appealing saying the word ‘play’? You are so very tempted to say something about him staying in your bed, to play, to tease, to taste.

Too much. 

“Something like that.” If he hears the tremor in your voice, he doesn’t comment. 

You hear him settle in the bed above you and you try to focus on your work, though it’s not easy, hyper-aware of him as you are. 

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“This is dumb, but I’m really glad I got to meet you guys.”

There’s rustling and you look up to see him peer at you over the side of the bunk. He’s grinning. 

“It’s not dumb. And same.” Again he looks like he might say something else, but he just winks at you. “G’night.”

“Night. Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” He laughs and rolls back over. You continue to do what you can; listening to the tinny sounds of whatever he’s vibing to on his phone, hearing each shift he makes in bed. You make decent progress and plan to record the audio sometime in your hotel room tomorrow night. You close down all your electronics, before getting up and moving to turn off the lamp light on the small table by the door. You carefully make your way back to your bunk.

“Again, night, neighbor.” His voice is impossibly lower and it makes you jump even if you assumed he wasn’t asleep yet. 

“Good night, Changbin.”

You curl up under the duvet and look outside at the pitch-black dark night before pulling the cord for the blinds and closing your eyes. 

–

When you wake up, the sun is just peeking over the horizon, the light diffused through the blinds right next to where you sleep. Despite being a little concerned that you might not sleep since you have a cabin mate, you actually wake feeling decently well-rested. Not that you are happy that the sun is making itself known in your face, but it isn’t the worst wake-up call. 

You stretch before reaching for your phone. You hear a deep inhale and it makes you freeze in your movements.

Right. A near-stranger slept in your cabin.

You stare up at the underside of the top bunk, mentally reviewing everything that happened yesterday. 

You are no closer to understanding why you feel so drawn to the man in your cabin than you were yesterday. 

With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, stretching again once you’re on your feet. You move to the other side of the window, moving the blinds just enough so you can see out. 

It’s hard not to smile at the landscape that rushes by. The rolling hills, the sparse trees, the rock walls and hedges that provide simple borders. 

You hear the shifting in the top bunk and quickly drop the blinds.

He says your name, voice low and rough from sleep.

It takes you a second to respond, to make your voice not sound at all affected by just how much hearing him say your name in that tone warms you to near scorching. 

“Morning.”

You see him peer over at you, face flushed from sleep and eyes all squinty. 

It’s as devastating as when he’d been dressed up last night. 

“Time’isit?” he slurs, voice low and rumbly. 

“Not quite seven.”

He groans and rolls to his back. “Why up?”

You chuckle at the sleepy caveman speak. “Just woke up. Go back to sleep. I’ll be quiet.”

He snorts, rolling back over and propping himself up on one elbow, cheek to hand. “It’s your room. I can go back next door.” He blinks a few times as though you might be finally coming into focus. He smiles, as sleepy and cute as can be. “Though Ji and Chan might be violent if I wake them up.”

“Wouldn’t want you harmed,” you reply, and waves dismissively. “Go on, go back to sleep.”

He nods slow before letting his arm drop with the rest of him. You wait to see if he’s going to say more, but you hear the even breathing after a few seconds and it makes you smile. 

Seems like he’s good at that.

You gather your things for the day to take to the bathroom compartment down the hall (having showered the night before, but you aren’t about to change in the same room even if he is asleep). When you get back, you do some simple skincare and makeup before starting to pack everything up for disembarking in a few hours. 

There’s a loud thump sound from the other side of the wall, then muttered words (not English, you assume Korean) before another voice joins in and it’s not horribly loud, but it is noticeable. 

The other two must be awake.

“Changbin?” you say softly, not wanting to shock him awake. You move over to the bunks, again saying his name. Then you lightly touch his shoulder.

He hums before blinking his eyes open. He grins at you. 

“Missed me?”

“Of course.”

His eyes widen because you don’t argue and that makes you laugh. You point toward the wall. 

“Your friends are up.”

He turns, hair sticking out in all directions as he listens to the muted voices of his bandmates. He nods before sitting up. He searches the bedclothes before finding his phone. He points down toward the small nightstand. You grab his glasses as he opens his mouth.

“Can you–” He stops when you hand them to him. “Oh.”

You chuckle again and walk back to your suitcase, zipping it up and starting to fill your backpack with your journal and laptop and other vlogger accessories. 

“Hey.”

You look over to see him climbing down. He runs a hand through his hair, before shrugging.

“Thanks.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” You feel your face heat with embarrassment. “Truly not a problem. Thanks for not being an ax murderer.”

He laughs before grabbing his bag from the carpet and moving toward the door. He pauses as he opens it then offers you his phone. 

“I…I can text you when we head to breakfast? If you want?” He is blushing slightly and you feel an immense amount of gratitude that he initiates the exchanging of contact information. You had been mulling over and over about the best way to make sure you could keep in contact with your next door neighbors (especially Changbin) and how not to make it obvious that you are interested (unless you should make it obvious…cause you are…right?…this weird connection is just…attraction…of some strange degree?) or awkward.

You nod to ease his discomfort and take his phone, fingers brushing and that definitely elicits some frissons. You input your number and hand it back. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he says before giving you a large grin and heading out into the hallway. You look around the door to see and make sure he gets into his room. The door opens after he knocks and there’s a loud ‘Hyung!’ before he’s pulled in. 

You let out a breath.

Breakfast (preceded by a short ‘hungry?’ text from an unknown number - now not unknown) is much more relaxed than dinner was, the guys chatting about the cabin and decent sleep though Chan does complain about Jisung’s snoring to which Changbin who sits next to you again, says that you don’t snore with a familiar grin, discussing if they should store their bags and immediately go to Ediburgh castle, or check in at their hotel first then go.

As Jisung rants about how heavy their equipment is after prolonged carrying, Changbin leans over to you.

“Kinda silly, but promise me something?”

Is this it? Is he going to say something about the weird link that you feel…that he feels it too?

“Maybe.”

He scrunches up his nose at your cryptic response. 

“Don’t have haggis without me? I need moral support.”

It’s so not where your brain went that you have no idea what expression is on your face, but you laugh at the surprise of the request because only you are spiraling about this whole thing. He seems blissfully unaware.

Lucky him.

“I can keep that promise.”

He smiles back, squeezing your arm which repeats the tingles from earlier but more of them and you watch him, to see if anything in his face or reaction gives anything away.

Are you just the one losing your mind?

Perhaps it’s good that you’ll be on your own for a few days in the city before deciding whether or not to go meet up with them in Linlithgow (you refuse to admit that it’s 100% likely that you will). Maybe time away from him will fix your brain. Or whatever has you in such confusion. 

You all return to your respective cabins as arrival time is ahem, arriving soon. 

Changbin pauses by your door as the other two continue to their cabin. You stop half-way into the room. 

“Yes??”

He presses his lips together. “Nothing. Just seeing that you get in safely.”

“Going for the knight-in-shining-armor role?”

He doesn’t answer your teasing immediately, expression more contemplative. 

“Maybe.” There's a quick smile at the end of that, like he knows he’s being as cryptic as you were earlier. He takes a step closer, probably the closest that he’s been face-to-face with you. “That okay?”

Your breath hitches at his nearness and he has to hear it. His smirk is subtle, not as confident, but far more enticing. His eyes drop from yours to your mouth and back up so quickly that you almost believe you made it up.

But when he steps back, you’re sure you didn’t. Which means the butterflies in your stomach are not alone. 

Maybe he has a few too.

“Yeah. That’s okay.”  

He nods before walking to his cabin, looking back once then entering. You do the same. 

The train reaches Edinburgh Waverley station within the next twenty minutes and soon you are back on solid ground, less than 24 hours later, but, as you stand with the guys as they check their phone GPS, it is a very different you than previous. 

Even if it’s only you and not him. 

“So…” Jisung begins once they have decided they know where they’re going. “We’ll see you?”

You smile. “Most likely.” You glance at Changbin who raises his eyebrows. ���Probably yes. I’ll let you know.”

“Have fun, then. Be safe, yeah?” Chan says and comes over to hug you like that level of familiarity has been established between all of you. You don’t mind. Not a bit, and you’re grateful that he is so unawkward about it. He’s warm and smells good, like sun-warmed grass. He releases you before hefting the guitar over his shoulder and heading toward the street level. Jisung, notably more reserved, waves at you before following Chan. 

You look at Changbin who hasn’t looked away. Feeling bold because ‘what the hell’, you open your arms in a blatant hug invitation, and he laughs before sliding off his shoulder bag and coming up to wrap his arms around you.

Oh god in heaven, wow. 

Chan was warm, but Changbin is searing. The weather this far north is chilly and though you’ve dressed for such a change, Changbin is far better as a heater than your hoodie. You hope you’re not being creepy when your eyes close and you breathe in; spicy and floral. You feel him turn his head a bit, his arms tighten, but then he lets go almost abruptly. You feel a whine at the back of your throat but you swallow it down. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Text once and awhile. Okay?” His smile is sheepish. “So this knight doesn’t worry.”

“Will do, Mr. Knight.” 

He jogs off, bag back on his shoulder, after his friends and they soon disappear among the crowd of morning commuters. 

You have many things to do but you don’t immediately start because if only for a moment, you feel bereft.

–

You spend four days in Edinburgh. You go to the castle though you’ve been before because it really is one of the loveliest sights in the country. You take your camera to The Writers Museum, showcasing it because it’s super interesting and also free admission. Not free really because you buy a ridiculous amount of souvenirs from the gift shop. You tell yourself and your followers that you’ll use them as gifts, even offering a few as a giveaway. 

You (on encouragement from a few comments) decided to do one of the haunted walking tours (there are several to choose from), checking with those in charge that your recording will not be a problem. They seem delighted for the free publicity and some spooky tales or shots will be a lot of fun.

You temporarily forget that you don’t like scary things.

It’s halfway through the tour and you are doing your best to record, listen and not gasp in terror or cover your ears like a child who doesn’t like what they are being told. You know your heart is pumping so fast because you feel it and why did you do this to yourself?

There’s a split second of you wishing Changbin was with you and hugging you again because that is your most recent memory of feeling safe. Hugs are naturally just a wonderful thing, but his had gone beyond that.

In your time alone in the city, you’ve given some thought to the strange draw you have to a stranger (though less of a stranger now). You definitely have found random people you run across in your travels as attractive. You aren’t blind. Beauty in people is just as soul-reviving as beauty in landscape and architecture. 

You’ve dated, but not lately. Your job can keep you away for periods at a time and though you’ve never been seriously tempted to be unfaithful, your partners have been more paranoid. That lack of trust bothered you more than any idiosyncrasies in dealing with combining two lives together. 

You have never seen someone in passing and felt like if you didn’t meet, didn’t talk, didn’t have a moment to interact; that you would spend your days living in regret. The desire to know someone has never possessed you at any point that you can remember. And now that you do know him a little? It just makes you want to know more. In a mental list, you have questions you want to ask him. 

He’s texted you. Photos of their time in Edinburgh; the castle and classic tattoo performance, all the food and drink, the statues that he and his friends sometimes pose like or with. You’ve texted back comments and suggestions. You’ve sent photos you wouldn’t use on your platforms; silly ones that would make the blooper reel if you had one for your life, ones that are just moments in your wanderings that you think he might like. You exchange song recommendations. You didn’t know he’d also like ballads, and softer songs. 

You’ve looked them up on youtube (they never mentioned their group name, but a search of ‘chan, jisung, changbin’ only brings up one group) and listened to their songs. It’s not your typical listening, but you like it. You buy an album digitally and when you just walk through the streets, you pop in your earbuds and listen to them. You look up lyrics when you have a moment, Korean being the dominant language in all their songs. You mull over the themes of their work, it makes you add new mental questions to that list. 

You get a photo of their little Airbnb when they are in Linlithgow. There’s pictures of the sun reflecting on the loch, the castle in the distance. Chan in front his laptop with music making paraphernalia. Jisung with his forehead furrowed, scribbling something on paper. 

Changbin making a duck face selfie.

>>Haggis soon?

The text comes in when you are in your inn room, editing more recent footage. Your time is coming to an end in the city and you’ve not said anything because you aren't sure they, or he, will still want you to come visit. Your original plan was to stay only a few days, maybe a day trip somewhere near, and then get back on the train to London. 

Plans change.

<<if you still want to? you’re supposed to be writing great masterpieces.

>> (pout emoji) 

<<not going well?

>>it’s okay. it’s really peaceful here and i get distracted by just sitting on a bench, watching people. 

<<i know for a fact that’s good for inspiration.

>>you’re avoiding answering my question. Are you coming to see us?

<<I booked a room for tomorrow night. Celebratory haggis for dinner?

>>YES

You’ve adjusted your train ticket back to London, giving yourself more time, but you can’t help but wonder what will happen when you go back home and he goes back to Korea. 

–

When you first ran into the trio, you weren’t nervous because you didn’t know. This time around, your heart is prematurely thumping like you’ve run all the way from Edinburgh. You’ve checked into your room at the pub/inn you’re staying at, then back on the street to view the centuries old architecture. It’s definitely a wet day, the clouds are ominous, so you’ve thrown your umbrella into your backpack and layered under your hoodie. 

You have plans for dinner with them; a local restaurant that the owner of their Airbnb recommended. There’s no reason for you to see them before that. But despite that knowledge, you keep your eyes peeled (what a weird phrase, honestly) for any familiar sightings. 

You walk along the street, trying to remember to look down because the streets are not even in these old villages and you wouldn’t say you’re clumsy, but you wouldn’t say you’re grace personified either. The buildings are magnificent though. The style sends you back to books you’ve read about tiny villages and murder mysteries that never scare you, just make you want to live in a cozy place and live a cozy life. 

You pause in front of the third pub you’ve passed by, wondering if going in for a drink would settle the buzz of nerves currently rippling through you. 

You hear your name.

You turn to see Changbin jogging up to you with a grin on his face, and he’s pulled you into a hug before you can piece together that he’s on his own, without his friends. 

“You didn’t say you were here yet,” he says, voice muffled by your hair before he draws back, still grinning. 

It’s stronger, the tether that you’ve felt since first laying eyes on him. You want to kiss him. 

Like really really want to kiss him. 

The urge startles you and you take a second to smile back, to cover that insane desire. You barely know him. What you know, you like, but you need to chill. 

“Hi.” 

Good job. Real eloquent and normal.

He laughs and squeezes your arm before letting go. He’s wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a backwards snapback. 

It’s so casual and normal, and you feel a bit light-headed.

You almost move to hug him again. 

“Where’s the rest of 3racha?”

He shrugs. “Ji is currently down the rabbit hole of youtube, and Chan is frustratedly working on a track and does not want any outside input at the moment. I decided to go for a workout.” He smiles again, tugging on the straps of his gym bag that’s hanging on his shoulder.. “And I found you.”

His smile drops when you don’t say anything. 

“I mean, unless you’re working right now? I’m sorry. You probably are and–”

“No, I’m sorry, I just…” You trail off, trying to figure out how the simple ‘I found you’ with that amount of sincerity destroys you, in all the best ways, and you can’t share that with him. “I’m kinda always working, so please, distract me.”

That pretty rose color lightens his cheeks and you wonder if maybe your words carried more underneath them than just a casual ‘let’s hang’ vibe.

“Wanna go work out?” he asks, teasing. You look down at your all-terrain boots and jeans then back at him. “No?”

“I guess these aren’t god-given?” You poke his arm, trying not to laugh when he flexes. You think it’s probably instinctual. 

He eyes you suspiciously but there’s still that hint of smile on his lips. “Nope. Requires maintenance.”

“My maintenance is just the walking I do for work.”

He nods. “Wanna walk then?” He zips up his windbreaker, seeming okay with the change in plans. 

“You don’t…don’t you want to go build muscle or something?”

He shakes his head. “Not right now.” He nods in the direction you were heading. “Come on. I’ll show you a nice spot.” He takes your hand and starts walking. You don’t resist.

Why would you?

His hand is warm, a little rough with calluses (probably from those beloved barbells). He’s speaking but for a few seconds you don’t comprehend because it’s been ages since you’ve had your hand held; nothing beyond a handshake or someone maybe helping you in and out of a mode of transportation. 

And it’s just so nice. 

“We haven’t tried there yet.” His words finally come into being understandable, even though you are still fixated on your hand in his. “But I want to. I think pubs might be one of my favorite things about the U.K.”

“No pubs in Korea?”

He takes you down a narrow street, cobblestoned and a little smelly. The wind picks up because of the condensed space and you shiver. 

“You’ve never been?”

“To Korea? No. Not yet.” It’s on your list. As is most of east Asia. Perhaps now, knowing them, you might put your focus on affording that type of trip. 

“Pubs aren’t really a thing. Not like here. There’s bars, restaurants that you drink in, but it doesn’t quite have the same laid-back feel.” He pauses at the curb, waiting for a cab to pass. Then he continues on, still holding your hand and you think it’d be really easy for him to lead you anywhere. 

“Same. I mean, for the States. We have bars, clubs. I feel like coffee houses are close to the same vibe, but generally no alcohol.”

He’s led you to a small park, complete with wrought iron benches and trees that if it was spring or summer, would be full of green. Full of leaves and would block the view of the still lake beyond the bank.

“Oh.”

“Right? It’s really pretty.” He tugs you toward one of the benches that faces the lake, where the reflection of the local castle is near perfect, minus a few rolls that warp the shape of the towers when wind touches the water. He sits and you sit, staring at the picturesque beauty. 

He lets go of your hand and you have to hold yourself back from taking it again.

You pull out your GoPro, opening it before getting up to find a few angles. 

“I watched some of your videos. When are you putting up the Edinburgh ones?”

You frame the castle reflection before capturing it digitally. “Probably in a day or two. It takes awhile to edit and do the voiceover. Also…” You glance back at him. “I don’t like to post when I’m in the same place. In case there are any–”

“Ax murderers?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

“That’s smart.” He leans back on the bench, letting his small gym bag fall to the ground. 

Manspreading is something you normally despise, especially on public transportation, but as with everything else, Changbin is the exception. 

An image of you climbing onto his lap flashes through your mind, and you spin around to look back at the castle, mortified at your own thoughts. It seems invasive to think of him like that. 

“Which videos did you watch?”

“Some of your first ones.”

You turn back to him in horror. “You didn’t.”

He grins, as though pleased that he’s made you embarrassed. “There’s a lot more of you in those. How old are you then?”

“Gah, right out of university.” You shake your head as you walk back to sit on the bench with him. “I knew nothing.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“The editing is mediocre, the shots and angles are pedestrian, my voice is–”

He’s laughing. 

“I can’t believe you went back that far.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t listen to our first songs?”

“To be fair,” you begin, caught but ready to defend. “You have less songs than I have videos, because your songs take more work…” He’s still grinning and you shrug. “‘Wow’ is especially enjoyable.”

Now it’s his turn to look away and grimace in pain. “Yeah. If fans didn’t love it, ironically probably, I’d make that disappear.”

“Shows how far you’ve come.”

He looks back at you, eyes warming. “Same for you.”

The warmth is unnerving and you look back at the perfect view of water and architecture. “You come out here a lot?”

“I’ve been twice? Since we’ve been here. I don’t usually just sit and stare out into nothing. That’s more Ji’s thing. He’s the introvert.”

“And Chan?”

He sits up and rests his forearms on his thighs, watching a lady push a stroller while talking on the phone. “He’s a workaholic. Even more than Ji and I. Sometimes I have to wrestle him into bed so he can get some sleep.”

“Can you take him in a fight?”

He smirks. “He’s taller, but I’m stronger.”

You mimic his position, watching the branches seesaw with the wind. “Who wrestles you into bed?” The moment you say it, you recognize what else it could mean. That perhaps just being around him layers your words with implications that hint and tease and lure. 

You feel his gaze, but you stubbornly look at the trees, even though you’re sure he can see the heat on your cheeks.

“No one. Lately.”

You swallow and let your eyes drift to him. He seems undaunted by your words or even his response. You think you could ask him, right now, if he’s having the same feelings as you; a practical stranger. You think he would tell you the truth. 

But you hear the sound of a vibrating phone and he jolts at it, letting out a huff before pulling it out of his pocket to answer.

“Yeah?” The conversation moves into Korean and you do hear your name, but the rest of it is lost to you. You sit up, messing with the settings on your GoPro, taking a few shots, trying to capture the quiet in a photo.

“That was Chan.” Changbin tells you. “It’s early, but Ji is starving.” He rests his arm on the back of the bench, his fingers centimeters from your arm. “Hungry?”

“I can always eat.”

He smiles at that, standing up to grab his bag and fit it on his shoulder before offering his hand. “Same, really.”

If you post those castle photos, you aren’t sure what you'll caption them, as your biggest impression of that hour was holding Changbin’s hand. 

–

“You didn’t!?” You cover your mouth as you laugh, hilarity infecting Jisung and Chan as well. Changbin looks pained as he stares at his plate. “You looked it up. You shouldn’t have.”

“I always check what I’m about to put in my body,” he answers, lips in near pout. “I knew it was going to be unusual, but…”

Haggis sits on his plate, awaiting a first bite, and you think, it looks a bit sad that it hasn’t been partaken yet. 

It might be the beer you’ve all had, but the giggling doesn’t cease. You lean over and cut it open, taking a forkful without even asking him. Later, you’ll blame intoxication. 

“See?” You take a bite, chewing and grinning at him. Then you pause. “Okay, that’s excellent.” 

He doesn’t look very convinced. “I…”

You grab his fork, do the same and offer it to him. “No regrets. If you hate it, at least it is an informed opinion.”

His lips part at the beckoning expression you give him. The other two are still laughing, teasing him, but the way he looks at you seems to drown them out. Like it all fades and you swear you can hear how his breathing changes, as though his heart speeds up.

“Come on, you’ll never know unless you try.” 

He lets you feed him, something you’ve never done outside a few gigs babysitting as a teenager. And it wasn’t like this.

It takes far too long for you to drag your eyes from his lips, to look up to his eyes, to see if he liked the Scottish delicacy.

His thoughtful face is cute. 

You set the fork down, drawing back, as though you’ve finally realized just how forward, how flirty you’ve been. You know there’s nothing wrong with it, if he’s not bothered, but you feel bashful nonetheless. 

You aren’t usually this person. Not since you were in school, when opportunities to meet and date seemed endless. 

“So?” Jisung pipes up. “Verdict?”

Changbin swallows, turning from you to his friends. “It’s actually…pretty good.”

Jisung takes that as permission, grabbing his own bite, as does Chan. You coerce yourself into watching them, not him, as they make similar confused and pensive expressions. As you do, you muse that you aren’t sure how three friends could all be so handsome, each in their own way.

Why only one of them seems to be bewitching you.

He’s sitting next to you again, but it’s in a booth not separate chairs, and though you aren’t touching, you can feel the heat of him in the few inches between you. 

“Maybe not something I’d eat all the time,” Chan says. “But certainly not gross.”

Jisung nods. “Especially if I don’t think about what it is.” He even takes another bite. 

Changbin fiddles with his fork before taking a swallow of his pint. 

“I like it.”

You smile. 

The guys mostly talk music for the rest of the meal. Chan even apologizes to you, but you wave it off. You’re fascinated by artists of any kind, how they create. You sip your cider, listening to them, even when they forget you and speak in Korean. It’s a nice, hazy feeling. The coziness of the pub, the talking around you, voices with different accents, the music filling in any lull in conversation. 

Perhaps the cider is stronger than you thought.

“You falling asleep?” 

You tilt your head toward him. He’s removed the snapback, run his hand through his hair a few times and you want to do the same. 

“No.”

“You sure?” 

You are slumped against the back of the booth, warm and comfortable. In a distant part of your brain, you chastise that you haven’t taken more photos or video of the meal, but it’s nice. Nice to be here. 

“I think she’s fading.” You hear Chan. You shake your head. “How early did you get up today?”

“Not early…I just haven’t slept super well since the haunted walking tour thingy.” It isn’t until Changbin touches your bottom lip that you realize you’re pouting.

And that he’s touched you. 

“Was that fun?” Jisung asks, animated. 

“No. Not by myself.” You watch Changbin who has gone back to his food and beer. “Probably would be fun with someone.” 

He glances at you and holds your gaze for a few seconds before saying something to Jisung about his horror film obsession. 

You don’t fall asleep, but you are definitely close when you fight them for the bill. You win this time. 

The walk outside into the night is a good wake up, the air far chillier than when the four of you entered the establishment. You wrap your arms around yourself, not too cold, but not warm either. 

“Nightcap?” Chan asks. “I don’t think I can go back to working just yet.”

“I want to,” you say. “But I think I need to go to bed.”

“Rain check,” he says, smiling fondly. “Come on, Ji.” He wraps his arm around his younger friend. “First one’s on you.”

“Why me?” He complains as the two of them cross the street to a pub that sounds and looks lively. They both wave at you before disappearing through the doors. 

“I’ll walk you back.”

“You can go on,” you protest, shivering a little. “I know how to get back.”

He pulls up the hood over your hair, tightening the strings. “I’m walking you back.” He states again, taking your hand. 

You aren’t about to refuse.

“Don’t you want to go with them?”

He gives you a look that you can’t really decipher. When he lets go of your hand, you open your mouth to argue, but he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close. It’s a second later that you feel a group of people walk by, nonverbally explaining why he does so.

You look up at him, your hand on his chest.

“They were–I mean–” He is blushing, before releasing you. “I didn’t want you to get bumped into.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep going. You loop your arm with his. He almost stumbles but doesn’t say anything.

Neither do you.

It’s a few minutes more until you’re in front of your lodging.

“Well…” you begin, but he enters. “Changbin I can…”

“I know you can, but I want to.” There’s a stubborn set to his jaw and mouth and you resist cooing over it because for someone who could probably lift you with ease, he’s adorable. 

You wave at the innkeeper, trying not to look shameful that you are bringing someone up the stairs with you. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but it does feel cheap, as though this person you’ve met days ago is just a fling. Not someone making sure that you are safe in your room, not someone that you find yourself thinking about hourly. 

Not someone important.

You stop in front of your room, pulling out the skeleton key and unlocking it before turning to your bodyguard. 

“Thank you for seeing me to my room, Mr. Knight.”

He smiles at the reference. “You’re welcome.” He moves to slip the hood off your head, smoothing your hair. “I hope you sleep better.”

“Me too.”

He swallows and you watch the movement of his throat with avid interest. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna work out tomorrow morning, but do you want to do anything? Together? I could help you record or whatever, if you wanted.” He’s got his hands in his pockets again, his windbreaker zipped all the way up, eyes wide and inquiring. 

“Fuck, you are so cute,” you breathe. His eyes get even wider. “Like, sorry, that’s…you are. Really attractive.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He’s so taken aback by your words that you giggle. That smirk returns, painting him far more confident than he just was. He moves a few steps closer. “Is that a yes?”

He is so close.

“Yes?”

He grins even more. “To tomorrow? Hanging out.” He takes one of the strings of your hoodie, tugs it lightly and wraps it around his finger. 

“Sure. I’ll put you to work carrying my stuff.”

He tilts his head down, his eyes dropping to your lips. “I can do that.” His nose touches yours. “And same by the way.”

“Hmm?” You can’t look away from his mouth.

“You’re also really cute. Attractive.” He pauses to let that sink in. “Pretty.” He moves so carefully and your eyes fall shut, sure to feel his lips on yours, but you don’t.

He kisses you on the cheek. Your eyes flutter open and he’s watching you, searching. He starts to pull back, but you grasp the collar of his windbreaker, halting his retreat. 

Your name falls from his lips, and you figure what the hell.

You kiss him. 

It’s a bit forceful, perhaps your coordination is off from the drinking, but his little grunt when your lips meet makes you soften immediately. Your grip relaxes, your hands seeking out the curls at the nape of his neck. You feel him tremble, then you feel his hands on your hips.

Your head falls back against the door as he licks into your mouth, apparently no longer caught off guard by your forwardness. He tastes a little bitter from the beer he imbibed, but the heat, his tongue curling with yours makes your fingers tighten as though holding onto his shoulders might keep you from collapsing. 

One hand captures you by the jaw, a gentle maneuvering so he can kiss you deeper. You hear his hat fall to the floor when your greedy fingers card through his hair, soft and silky. He takes a step in, and his hips align with yours.

It’s like fireworks explode under your skin. 

In case you questioned whether or not he was interested, you aren’t questioning now. He’s hard, pressed against you in a way that makes you hungrier than you’ve ever been. 

You absolutely crave him. 

His mouth leaves yours, and you whimper at the loss. There’s a dark chuckle, arrogant, before he graces your neck with soft pecks, ending with a nip and a suck, right near your collarbone, your hoodie pushed aside to let him taste. 

You stutter his name. 

There’s a pause in his ministrations, his thumb running along your lower lip. He raises his head as your eyes open. You can see a reflection of your desire in his eyes, in the focus of his gaze. 

His thumb pulls on your lip, as though seeking the wet heat of your mouth. Your tongue flicks the tip and his eyes go even darker. You think maybe he growls before slotting his mouth back over yours, tongue stroking and enticing. 

There’s a creak of footsteps coming up the stairs and you break apart, chests heaving with breathlessness. His face is flushed, hair and eyes a little wild, and you wonder if this is how he looks post workout, post other exertions.

A runaway thought about licking the sweat off his neck ping-pongs in your brain, but you won’t ever verbalize it. 

You both wait until the guest passes down the hall to their room before either of you speak. He leans down to grab his hat.

“Do we blame the beer?” you ask softly.

“You had cider.”

It’s almost petulant, his words, and it surprises a laugh out of you. His answering smile is soft, and he cups your cheek in his hand. 

“You should go sleep.” His index finger taps lightly on your ear, playful.

You want to protest, to invite him in, but this evening has already sped past any rules you’ve ever had in place for dating and sex. 

A moment to process, to think. 

“Yeah.”

He kisses you again, but it’s chaste and sweet. A good night kiss as though you two are familiar with each other. 

“Message me when you wake up?” His voice is barely a whisper. His nose slides along yours before he drops another kiss and backs up. “Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah.” You are incapable of anything more eloquent than that at the moment. He grins, squeezing your hand before heading toward the stairs. You open the door, still with your back against it, resistant to look away. 

“Night.”

“Good night,” you answer before finally shutting the door behind you. You allow yourself the cliche romantic moment of leaning and sliding down to the floor, completely enamored.

–

You wake and check your phone out of habit. 

Wanna do breakfast? 

It was nearly an hour ago that it was sent, but you hope it’s still an option. The overabundance of cider ensured you slept hard last night, which given how much the man at the other end of this text filled your brain, you are grateful. Because it’s a new day. Sun’s coming up and things that are easy and make sense late into the night, under the influence of alcohol, sometimes feel rather foolish in the light of day.

You want to see him. After last night, after kissing, touching…just feeling; you feel like the one time you’d had a crush in middle school.

The beginnings of crushing. That quickly turned painful and awkward (the epitome of middle school life), and even thinking of it dampens your present joy.

You shove it away, intent on appreciating that the strange inclination that appeared at just seeing Changbin seems to be somewhat reciprocated.

Yes. This pub has breakfast. Wanna meet me?

Give me 15. Have to shower and I’ll be there.

You did not need that mental image.

You may spend a minute more on your face this morning, but then your brain is taken over by thoughts of what to see and what to do for your channel. You keep a decently consistent upload schedule (the only way to keep viewers sticking around), and you posted the last one of your last excursion.

It’s time.

The worry from two seconds ago reappears. 

You find a table downstairs in the pub and order a tea (when in the UK). You check your instagram and TikTok platforms. You’d posted just the castle reflection (no location mentioned) yesterday and just looking at it again warms you.

“Hey.”

You look up from your phone to see Changbin sliding in the chair across from you. His hair is damp and curly, reminding you of that mental image you do not need to have. He wears not all black today, but a pale pink hoodie and dark jeans. He smiles once you make eye contact.

“Morning.”

You reply the same, your own gaze falling to his lips, which flusters you immensely, so you sit up, put your phone away.

“I didn’t know if you were coffee or a tea person.”

“Oh. Coffee. But,” he looks at your cup. “That actually looks good.”

You offer it to him. “Try. You should at least try good breakfast tea while you’re here.” 

He takes it from you, sipping it before staring off as he contemplates. 

“You can have it just plain. I always add milk and sugar. It’s good without too.”

He smiles. “Oh I can?”

You fluster yet again. 

“It’s cute. You’re like a tea missionary all of a sudden.”

He sets the tea back on your side as a server pops up for your order. Changbin orders a full Scottish breakfast (and tea), and you get porridge. 

“Good workout?”

He nods. “I haven’t really been diligent about it.”

“You’re traveling, of course you haven’t.” You rest your chin in your hand. “You enjoy it?”

“Yeah. I mean…” He blushes. “I could go on and on about everything to do with training, eating, all that. I don’t want to bore you.”

“As a person who knows very little, except to get some exercise to be healthy, I won’t be bored.”

He looks doubtful. “No?”

“Try me. I like learning stuff.”

He does know a lot. As much as you don’t think you will ever desire to be a gym rat in any circumstances, you find his enthusiasm wonderful. It’s perhaps one of your favorite things about traveling. A lot of it is solitary, but you do meet people, have conversations that only two strangers on a plane, train, or in a restaurant could have. People have passions, and they light up when they get to talk about them, or share them. 

You once had a two hour conversation with someone about red milkwood fruit and the best areas in South Africa to get it. 

It was really good. 

Food is delivered and Changbin’s commentary about leg day tapers off. You hide a smile as his focus becomes solely his meal. 

“I’d like to look at the castle today. I’m sure you’ve already gone?”

He chews slowly, but shakes his head.

“You haven’t?”

“All three of us had stuff to work on. Or wanted to work, so sight-seeing hasn’t happened yet. So, yeah, let’s go.”

“You don’t mind? I mean, I don’t want you to not work if–”

He interrupts you, saying your name. “You think I don’t want to spend time with you? After…” He’s the cutest thing when he blushes. 

You don’t suppose you look as cute when your face heats too. 

“So,” you save him from continuing, even though your voice definitely cracks, “The castle, and maybe a boat ride at the Canal Centre, the museum there too?” You meet his eyes. “You don’t have to do all of that with me if you don’t want to.”

He leans in a little (there are still two meals between you two). “I want to.” 

You can’t really find anything to say to that, not with that resolute tone that makes you want to crawl over the table (pretty sure the beans on his plate would stain your pants for eternity but it would be worth it) and continue where you left off last night. 

It’s a craving that your very nice porridge will not satiate.

And it’s a lot for you in your not very long time on this planet. 

He seems to feel the same if the way he’s looking at you is any indication, but he drops his gaze to go back to his meal. 

You do the same. 

When you’re outside after eating, he tugs on your backpack. You turn and he pulls it off you, sliding it onto his shoulders. His smile is a little cheeky and bashful. 

“You did say I could carry your stuff.”

“I did.” Can’t really argue with him about that. You open your phone to find the best walking route to the castle and let that lead you both. His hand slips into yours. 

You’ve never gotten to travel as part of a couple. This phase of your life started because you had wanted to see more than your state, and no one in your life was able to join you (commitments to jobs, partners, now kids). Traveling alone means no one puts any sort of expectations of what you do, when you do it, and where. It’s freedom.

But it’s terribly nice to walk hand in hand with someone down a cobblestoned street as you record the simplicity and antiquity of your surroundings. 

“Say hi!” you turn the camera on him and he doesn’t even hesitate, but gives a peace sign and a huge grin. You laugh that he’s so at ease with it, but remind yourself that he performs fairly regularly. 

To see them live would be an experience. 

“Did you know this palace is the birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots?” you ask him, camera still focused on his profile.

“I did not. Nor do I have a clue who that is.”

You laugh again. “Why would you?” You turn the camera back toward the castle in the distance. You do a quick speech about the little you know of British royals and history. “I’ll add more later,” you turn the camera to your face. “Edit this out, but keep in Changbin.”

“Wait, why?”

“Cause you’re cute and look good on camera.”

The blush is redder with the brisk wind. 

“I see how it is. You just want me for my looks.”

“Absolutely.” You may blush when you say it, but his answering laugh is worth it.

The castle is as castles are: drafty, wet-smelling, but still hold some sort of mystique due to age and grandeur. There’s a tour you follow, listening and taking the occasional note on your phone. Changbin is fairly quiet, though he mutters the occasional comment to you which makes you laugh a little too loudly and interrupt the tour guide. 

You really do try not to be the loud and rude American when you travel. 

“When I was little, I wanted to live in a castle,” you say to Changbin when the tour is over and you are just filming to get footage and B roll. 

“You don’t anymore?”

“Oh god no. It’s too cold. Too big. Too much to clean.”

He laughs and adjusts your backpack on his shoulders. “That’s not very romantic.”

“I’m not very…” You trail off, glancing at him as he looks out across the pond. The wind is up, ruffling his hair, and you think you might be a little romantic because your heart does swell when you look at him. 

“Hmm?” He looks back, and smiles.

“Never mind. Wanna head to the Canal Centre?”

“Sure.”

As you both walk that way, you see a group of people (possible power-walkers, is that a thing in Scotland?) coming down the road toward you. He takes you by the elbow and pulls you into a tiny alcove under the footbridge. You stumble into him as his arm wraps around your back. You look up to see him watching the crowd pass by before seeing your gaze. Pink tinges his cheeks in a faint blush. 

“There was–” He gestures with his other hand toward the now absent crowd. “It wasn’t a move, I promise.”

“It’s okay if it had been.”

One corner of his lips shoots up in a smirk-smile. “Yeah?” His arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against him. 

As you lean in to brush a kiss to his lips, your brain is reminding you that everything is on a deadline, and you should mention this to him. But the kiss (and he) is distracting. His hand is splayed in the middle of your back and he’s so warm. The kiss, that starts fairly chaste, morphs into heat, tongue and at least one moan. 

The moan is you.

“Public indecency charges in a foreign country are probably really difficult to get out of,” you mumble, mouth barely touching his. 

He chuckles, hand stroking down your back. “We probably shouldn’t find out.” He rests his head on the stone wall behind him.

You open your mouth to say something about your train leaving tomorrow, but he takes your hand and pulls you from the alcove to head back into the muted sunshine. 

The Canal Centre has options for 12 or 40 people, and requires advanced booking, so you and Changbin just wander through the museum before finding a spot in the tearoom to watch the boats pass. 

“It feels slower here,” he says softly as you look through the footage you’ve taken. 

You lift up your head and raise your eyebrows in question. He shrugs and takes a sip of tea in the dainty teacup. You gesture for him to hold that position as you snap a quick photo of his large hand wrapped around that delicate porcelain. 

“Just. Stopping for tea. Staring out at people. It’s all very calm.”

“We are kinda on vacation. Working here would be different.”

“I’m sure. But even that…people are out for lunch, just heading to the pub and spending time eating and socializing. We do that in Korea, but usually after work, late, for supper and drinks.” He sets the cup back down. “Just different.”

“America never seems to stop. Just get into your car, drive, work, eat as fast as you can, drive home, crash. Maybe go out, but I couldn’t usually muster up the energy post-work.” 

“I’ve never been.” 

“No gigs in the US of A?”

“Not yet.” He meets your eyes before looking back at the boats. “I’m a bit bummed we didn’t get to ride in a boat.” He points at you, with excitement. “We could book for tomorrow if you wanted.”

It’s an anvil on your chest.

“What about your work?”

He gives you a look, like ‘are you kidding?’ “For a boat ride? With you? I think I can take a few hours.” He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, one hand seeking yours. “More content for you, ms. vlogger.”

You let him take your hand and then you take a deep breath. “My train leaves tomorrow.”

His thumb, rubbing over your knuckles, stills at your words. 

“It does?”

You grip his hand in case he thinks of letting go. “I have to get back. Money wise, content wise, just…life.” 

He stares at you, expression unreadable. 

“I’m sorry. I would stay if–”

“You need to get back.” He nods before letting go. “And I have songs to write.”

There are several other people in the tearoom and you want to say things, but it feels way too private for this public venue. 

“When do you guys head back to Korea?”

“End of next week.” He takes a deep breath, eyes back on the boats. His jaw tightens and he turns again back to you. “Come to Korea.”

“What?”

“In your travels, come.”

“I mean, I would like to. It’s on my list.”

“Move it up the list.”

You laugh, bewildered at his insistence. “I’ll try. It’s not like it’s easy to get to from America.”

He takes your hand again. “Come. Please.”

It’s a lot. To not look away from the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes entreating. 

“You gonna come to the States?”

“Yes.”

No question, no hesitation. 

“Oh.”

He says your name, then looks around. “Can we go somewhere and talk about this?” He takes out some British pounds and leaves them on the table. “Please?”

You gather your things and follow him out. He takes your hand and leads you back to the park from yesterday. He pulls you next to him on the bench, sliding your backpack onto the ground.

But he doesn’t speak. He stares back out across the water, his hand in yours. 

“Bin?”

He turns with a smile. “First time you’ve called me that.” He moves closer, his smile faltering. “Maybe I’m completely off, but this is something.” He gestures to the space between the two of you on ‘this’. “Right? It’s not, it can’t be just a hookup. I…don’t want to not see you again.”

It’s hard to speak. To follow the rapidity of what he says. 

“Right?” He forces a smile. “You weren’t just gonna fuck me and leave?”

You hide your face, embarrassed at his words. “I hadn’t even…I mean, I thought about…oh god.”

He rests his hands on your shoulders, saying your name again. “Talk to me. I realize I am not being at all cool and detached about this. But, when I saw you on the train, I…it’s so cliched and just bad romance movie shit, but I felt something.”

Your head raises up so quickly, his hands tighten in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah. Like, I mean, you’re cute as fuck, but it was more than that.” He watches your face. “You did too, didn’t you?”

“I thought my heart was going to beat itself into exploding.”

He grins. “I don’t think that makes sense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my first time.”

“Mine too.” He presses his lips together before speaking. “It’s big, right? Like I don’t know everything about you, but…”

“It feels like it? Yeah.” You feel your face heat. “It’s both super familiar and safe, but also, all the butterflies and anticipation and–”

He kisses you. “That.”

“Yes.” You kiss him back, and he holds you so close that you’re almost in his lap. 

He moves his hands to your face. “We travel, the guys and me. Perform. Then we lock ourselves in the studio for the rest of the year. You can be there, for any of that. As much as you want.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ve wanted to go to America for a couple years now, we have fans there…”

“I could travel with you guys?”

“Yeah. When you can.” He makes a face. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it, but they know.”

“They know?”

He doesn’t let go of you, but his eyes do dart away, embarrassed. “They know that I’m into you. That something is going on.” He rolls his eyes. “Ji is especially annoying about it.”

You smile. “I bet.” You encircle his wrists with your hands. “So…long distance, huh?”

He swallows. “I’m game.”

“Me too.” It settles your heart and nerves to hear it. To hear that he feels and has been going through the same as you. That you aren’t alone in this. 

You aren’t alone, at all. 

His thumbs sweep along your cheekbones. “Okay.” His shoulders lower, relaxing. “Okay.”

You kiss him, letting go of his wrists and fully moving onto his lap, arms around his neck. He holds you close, mouth opening to taste you. It’s horribly public, but you don’t really care. 

How could you, in his arms?

When his hand slips under the back of your pants, he mumbles something against your skin.

“Hmm?”

“Thinking about those public indecency laws,” he says. 

You giggle as he looks up at you. “You say the sweetest things, Changbin.” 

He snorts but stares at you. 

You comb his hair off his forehead, staring back. “Pretty.”

He makes a face at you, but doesn’t look away. “I think we’re getting sappy.”

“Maybe a little.” 

You kiss his nose. “I like you.”

He smiles wide. “Yeah?”

“A lot.”

His wayward hand takes one grab of your ass, making you yelp and him laugh. 

“I like you too,” he murmurs, mouth tracing down the shell of your ear. “A lot a lot.”

—

Supper is with Jisung and Chan again, no haggis this time. The four of you opt for curry, and you are given a front row seat to Changbin’s ability to handle spice and how Chan and Jisung don’t handle it.

Though all three do way better than you as you ask the server for the least spicy curry on the menu. And even then, you make good use of the naan in the middle of the table. 

Changbin sits next to you, thigh flush to yours. His hand finds your leg often, resting on it, tapping a rhythm on your knee, fingers slipping to your inner thigh; hints of more, both casual and intentional. 

“You don’t mind?”

Chan glances at you from taking a swig of his pint. “Not at all. It’d be nice to have someone along. We have roadies, of course. But like…” He shrugs. “We put up with Ji, so you’ll be a breeze.”

Jisung glares at him. “I’m an angel.”

“I would check with you about anything I post, of course.”

Chan smiles warmly. “I trust you. Pretty obvious the moment you offered us a bed.”

It feels like years ago.

“I still can’t believe I did that.” You shake your head. “I’m lucky I’m not a True Crime podcast episode.” 

“Or Bin isn’t.” Jisung says. “All you’d have to do is get him working and like, you could sneak up on him so easily.” He chews then swallows. “Not that I’ve thought about it.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ji,” Changbin volleys back, unbothered by his friend’s comment. His fingers lace with yours, resting on his leg. You try not to show how affected you are, but Jisung meets your eyes and winks at you.

Chan gives you a big hug after supper, outside the restaurant. “I’d say I’d get up and say goodbye, but I don’t want to lie.”

You hug him back, chuckling. “I appreciate the honesty.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Have a safe trip. We’ll see you soon.” 

“Yeah, you will.”

Jisung hugs you this time, long arms wrapped around you. He also wishes you a safe trip and elicits a promise from you that you’ll bring Flaming Cheetos with you when you come to Korea as he really wants to try them.

It’s an easy promise to make. 

There’s no excuse or question as to whether Changbin will walk you back to your room. He follows you in the main door, both of you not speaking. When you get to your room, he covers your hand as you try to unlock the door.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asks, voice no more than a whisper. “I’m afraid I won’t get up to say goodbye and–”

You turn around to kiss his cheek, silencing his stammering. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

You open the door. “We’ve already shared a cabin. Might as well share a bed, right?”

He enters, a bit timidly, glancing around. “You’ve already packed?”

“I barely unpacked.” You take your backpack from him, setting it on the floor of the wardrobe. You take off your shoes, setting them next to your backpack. You reach out for him, grabbing his hoodie to yank him to you. 

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t assuming that we’d…”

“You did ask if I planned to fuck you and leave.”

He coughs a laugh, hands settling on your hips. “I did, didn’t I? I was panicking a little.”

You kiss his chin. “I’m not assuming anything either. I just want to kiss you again.”

His eyes soften and he slides his hands under your thighs, the unspoken indicator to jump into his arms. You do so, legs around his waist as he covers your mouth with his. He moves you both to the bed, laying you down carefully, leaving your lips to taste and suck down your neck. He only breaks away when you pull on his hoodie in an effort to disrobe him. His laugh is light when he pulls it off, his t-shirt clinging to him in ways that should be illegal. He takes off your layers, peeling off the sweatshirt, t-shirt, then camisole. 

He stares.

You whine a protest. “What?”

He leans down, lips at your ear. His hands slide along your side, almost tickling. 

“I like your shape.” You tremble at the puff of his breath on your ear, shiver more when he nips at the lobe. He continues, pressing kisses along your jaw line until he’s back to your mouth, urgent. Your legs fall open as he lowers himself, a sharp intake of breath when you feel him. 

“I like yours, too,” you sigh into his mouth. 

There’s a rumble of laughter. “Which shape?” He lifts his head to grin at you. “My body or my dick?”

You slap his arm, flustered. 

He rests on his forearms, dropping soft pecks on your nose, cheeks, eyelids. “Just trying to clarify here.”

“Ridiculous.”

“You aren’t answering.”

You open your eyes, now to glare at him. “Both, obviously.”

His smirk is so satisfied, you kind of want to hit him again. He sits back on his knees and starts to undo the button of your jeans.

“Okay?”

You nod. “Your shirt first, though.”

He pulls it off, and you think your mouth actually waters a little. You sit up and he groans because he can’t undo your jeans now. But you have to touch. You have to map every line and curve of his body with your hands, taking in that warmth and softness. You kiss his chest, unable not to.

“I fully support all the working out.”

He giggles before trying to usher you to lay back down. He’s mostly successful though you have to kiss him again, taste his tongue and mouth again. 

He’s single-minded, returning to your jeans and dragging them off you before doing the same on himself. You’ve sat up, legs crossed, eyes just marveling at him and every reveal of skin that you get. 

“I guess it’s kind of late, but I haven’t been with anyone in months. I’m clean.” Just clad in his boxer-briefs, he sits next to you, his hand on your thigh, drawing up and down the length of it. 

“Years,” you admit. “But yeah, clean.”

He grasps you by the chin, bringing your mouth close. “Years?”

“I’m not a sexy rapper.”

He kisses you lightly. “True.”

You punch his shoulder and he doesn’t even flinch. He’s laughing into your mouth, kissing; his other hand cupping the back of your neck. You scoot closer, knees on either side of his hips. You roll your hips the moment you sink down.

His groan is music. 

“You have protection?” You ask in between kisses. He rests his forehead on your collarbone when you repeat the motion, biting your lip so you don’t echo his groan. 

“You don’t?”

“Years,” you repeat. He lifts his head to smile at you. 

“I do.”

“See…sexy rapper, with groupies all ready to throw themselves at you.” You tousle his hair, jerking when his hand drifts under your underwear, palming your ass. 

He rolls his eyes at you, but leans over to pull his wallet out of his discarded jeans, seeking the one condom he has. He hands it to you, freeing his hand to help lower you both back to the bed. 

Underwear tossed aside, latex rolled on; there are more kisses, and explorations of each other. He pushes in so gently, with whispered compliments and soft touches. It’s a different tone and color than his performative rapping. 

Softer, quieter. Private. 

Perhaps since it’s been years, it seems to happen all too quickly. You first then him. He’s collapsed on you, his breath harsh pants. You give into your earlier fantasy and lick away a drop of sweat off his temple. His hold on you tightens. 

“We should get some sleep,” you say, playing with his hair. 

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbles into your skin. 

You smile sadly, recognizing that it’s only hours left. He rolls off of you, planting a kiss on your shoulder. His eyes are half-open, sleep oncoming.

You roll to your side, curling up next to him. “I’ll wake you.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes. “You better.” His eyes flutter closed. “I wanted to sleep next to you that night on the train.”

“Me too.”

–

“Hello friends,” you greet the camera with a smile. “I just arrived and have made it through customs, which is way better streamlined than in the States. It was a long flight,” you nod at some passengers you pass on your way to the arrival area. “But pretty uneventful. I think I slept nearly all of it.”

You look around once you go through the automatic sliding doors. 

“I can’t believe I’m here. It’s been almost six months and–” You break off when you hear your name above all the pandemonium of the Seoul International Airport. Your camera turns with you as you try to follow that shout. 

On Youtube, the video loses focus and there are muffled voices. The shot is of a far-off baggage claim and dozens of walking legs and shoes. When the camera is righted, it frames two faces.

You’re no longer on your own.

----

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[topherwrites]

FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

[jinhyun]

—drunk words.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, college au, dance major hyunjin, art major reader, it's complicated kinda relationship

word count: 8.8k (my apologies once again)

summary: there is a saying about drunk words being sober thoughts. tonight, you really wish that applies to hyunjin.

warnings: drinkingggg (alcohol lol), cursing, one mention of throwing up (no one actually throws up), sexual comments as usual, MINORS DNI!!!!

a/n: so... i can't write anything short for shit when it comes to watercolor apparently 💀 but i've been away for a good while so let me just be self indulgent for my return lmao. anywayyy, this is part 46 of watercolor, i hope you guys enjoy and please, please, pleaaaaase let me know your thoughts and come gossip with me about it, i've missed doing that :')

Hyunjin was not happy.

Although his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you the moment he spotted you in between the crowd, it did not take a genius to notice he was not his happiest right then.

And how could he? You had been gone for nearly two hours now with no other than the guy you used to have a friends with benefits dynamics going on with. Granted, Changbin was one of his best friends and he trusted him, but that did not mean he would jump up and down with excitement every time the two of you made plans together, much less if said plans involved the two of you alone, without him.

So, it was fair to say, seeing the two of you arrive together at the bar, although he had seen it coming, did only add fuel to the fire that had been growing inside him that night.

"What took you two so long?" Chan asked, and Hyunjin could only internally thank him for saving him from having to ask you that question himself.

"We just got a bit caught up" Changbin admitted, taking a seat on the empty spot in between Lix and Minho.

"Doing what?" Hyunjin couldn't stop himself from bitterly asking, eyes focused on the drink he was currently swirling in his hand.

"Talking" you answered the obvious, catching his attention as you sat beside him on the booth.

And maybe, just maybe, the way you had leaned slightly in against his body and your arm had wrapped around his bicep, the next second taking it one step further by intertwining your fingers with his very receptive ones, was enough to make him feel at ease.

"So?" your eyes moved back to your friends, not without first having given Hyunjin's hand a reassuring squeeze. "What did we miss?"

"Not much," Minho shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "Just lots of drinking".

"That's it?" you laughed.

"Yeah, we played truth or dare for a while, so you guys missed out on some pretty spicy stuff" Han filled you in with a playful smirk.

"Oh, and Felix hyung got a girl's number" Jeongin informed with a proud yet teasing smile.

"No way!" you excitedly covered your mouth with your free hand.

"Yah, don't make it sound like an impossible occurrence now" Felix whined, earning laughs from all of you. "She just came up to me and, well…"

"Are you calling her?" Bin moved his eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.

Felix shrugged, a small smile curving up his mouth as he stared into his cup. "Maybe…"

You and Chaeryeong squealed in excitement, not missing another second to start talking Felix into it and managing to get everyone else involved in the conversation, as everyone seemed to have a say on whether Lix should hit the stranger up or not.

Everyone but Hyunjin, you couldn't help but realise.

While all your friends went on and on about their different points, he remained quiet next to you, only listening to what they all had to say, if even that, since he looked more spaced out than anything — his mouth opening every now and then only to take a sip of his drink, as words seemed to be something he refused to let out of it.

"I'm sorry I took too long with Changbin…" you apologised when you guessed what must've been going through his head, speaking low enough for only Hyunjin to hear.

He shrugged, not finding it in him to look up at you. "You wouldn't answer my texts".

A small sigh escaped your lips. "My phone was in my bag, I wasn't paying attention to it. I should've known you'd try to contact me and keep it next to me, I'm sorry".

Hyunjin nodded, yet as expected said nothing.

Biting on your bottom lip, you reached your hand up to cup his cheek and make him look at you. When he didn't protest and his face was now only a couple of centimeters from yours, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

"I'm really sorry, Jinnie" you apologised once more, this time looking into his already softening eyes. "I promise nothing happened, we were just talking while having dinner and got a bit too caught up in the conversation. It won't happen again, hm?"

You could tell he was not entirely convinced yet, but the small nod and the weak smile he gave you was enough for you to start smothering him with kisses all over his face.

You managed to get a giggle out of him right as your eager lips had been pressed under his chin and reached down to his neck, being stopped by his hand cupping your cheek and guiding you back up, right onto his lips.

It didn't take you long to react and wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss by simply touching his bottom lip with your tongue — that being all he needed to gently pull at your hair and have you tilt your head back, so he could slide his tongue into your mouth and softly meet yours.

"You guys go get a room" Seungmin's disgusted voice had you two faintly pulling away.

"Leave them, they're cute" Cherry pouted.

He shrugged, nonchalantly bringing his cup up to his lips. "We're cuter".

"Ew, and you have the audacity to tease us?" Hyunjin called him out, smoothly resting his arm around your shoulders and letting his hand fall loosely over your chest.

"At least they're not sucking faces right in front of us" Han joined in.

"Not today, maybe" Lix mumbled, earning a glare from Seungmin.

"In Y/N's defense, she hardly ever makes out with Hyunjin hyung in public" Jeongin took your side.

"Oh no, I've seen them" Minho shut his argument down immediately.

"Can we all just agree that both couples are disgusting?" Chan proposed, getting instant affirmation from everyone but the couples in question.

"You guys are just mad that you don't get smooched every day" Chaeryeong childishly stuck her tongue out.

"Then can Y/N go smooch Hwang somewhere else since they get to do it everyday anyway?" Minho asked with a cynical smile.

"Nope," you mirrored his feigned cheerfulness, leaning into Hyunjin's chest as your hand went up to intertwine with his. "I'm asking for forgiveness here".

"Go ask for your boyfriend's forgiveness in his bedroom then" Changbin taunted.

Hearing everyone laugh, you played off the burning feeling in your cheeks with a roll of eyes. "He's not my boyfriend".

The whole table erupted in laughter once more, as they called you out on not believing shit of what had just came out of your mouth.

Everyone knew you were joking, for the lack of label in your relationship did not make any difference when it came to the way the two of you acted around each other — and that was, like an actual, established couple.

But although everyone laughed, not everyone was amused.

So you knew the moment Hyunjin's hold on your hand loosened up and his body tensed up against yours.

You weren't sure why, but suddenly it felt like you had just managed to beat an obstacle only to stumble with another one.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

A part of you wanted to believe you were overthinking. The part of you that would always overthink everything and come up with scenarios that would only make you anxious wanted to believe you were doing just that now. The sight of Hyunjin right next to you, however, told you otherwise.

You had physically felt his mood drop the moment you said he was not your boyfriend. You had felt his hand loosen up its hold on yours.

He had carried on with the conversation all of you were having like nothing had happened, laughing and joking around just like he would always do, but you could feel him distant from you. And now that some of them were at the bar and some others at the dance floor, leaving the two of you oh-so-conveniently alone at the table, not a word had been spoken.

He was avoiding eye contact. He was avoiding your touch. Playing the lack of them off by drinking and staring into the dance floor like it was the most interesting sight ever.

You were not making all of that up, you were sure.

What you couldn't fully grasp your mind around was the reason for the sudden drop in his mood. You were not lying. In fact, you were sure you two had joked around like that before and everything had been just fine. Or maybe you had been too blind to realise it had bothered him all along.

Whatever it was about your remark that had managed to touch a nerve of his this time around, you needed to find out so you could make it better.

"Are you mad at me?" you asked, leaning closer to him so you could be soft-spoken and still be heard.

"Why would I be mad?" he answered dryly as ever, no eye contact at all.

You felt your heart sink.

"Was it something I said?" you carefully asked once more.

His unamused eyes —finally— fixed on you. "You know what you said".

"I don't get why you're mad about it, though?" you mumbled, unable to find the right words. "We're not official yet…"

"I know that, Y/N," he snapped. "Trust me, I know we're not official, it's not that I'm mad about".

"Then?" you pushed it.

"Why did you have to go and remind Changbin hyung about it?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "I wasn't reminding him… if anything, he knows already".

"Yes, but it's just," he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. "It's the entire situation, Y/N. Like, you went to our place and stayed there with him alone—"

"I went to see you and you weren't there" you corrected him.

"But you decided to stay there with him when I asked you to come here and even offered to go get you. And then you went out to eat with him, wouldn't reply to my texts, got here way later than expected, and then proceeded to tell him I'm not your boyfriend?" he recriminated, and it finally hit you how wrong it had looked in his eyes and how upsetting the whole thing was.

Your heart sunk once more, this time over knowing you had hurt the person you loved the most, even if you had not meant it.

"Hyunjin…"

"Can you try and understand how fucking shitty that felt?"

"I know, and I'm s—"

"Like, how would you feel if I told Yerim you're not my girlfriend right in front of you".

You stayed still, that name alone being enough to feel like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over you.

"What does she have to do with this?"

"Nothing, it's just an example".

"Why is she the first example to come to mind, then?"

"She just is," he blurted out, growing more frustrated by the second.

"So you still think about her?"

"No! That's not—it's just the closest to your situationship with Changbin".

"There is no 'situationship' between me and Changbin" you made it clear. "We're friends".

"With benefits" he bitterly remarked.

"We were friends with benefits" you corrected. "That ended as soon as you kissed me. We're friends now. Just friends. And he's one of your best friends too, we would never deliberately do anything to hurt you. It's very different to you and Yerim".

"Right, it is very different" he agreed. "Because I never actually got to fuck her".

"And you regret not doing it?" both your words and the venom they held caught him off guard.

"What?"

"The way you said it made it sound like you would've liked to actually get to fuck her" you couldn't help the small crack in your voice and the annoying gloss in your eyes. "Because if that's the case then be my guest".

"No," Hyunjin shook his head accusingly. "No, you don't get to turn this around and get all defensive and jealous, this isn't about her".

"Well, you just made it about her, Hyunjin" you backed slightly away. "And I do get to be jealous of the girl you wanted to get with so bad that you didn't want her to see you with me".

"It was once, Y/N" he pointed out. "I pushed you away once because of her and then I chose you over her every single time".

You remained quiet, staring at the table as you were unable to look him in the eye right then and let him see the tears that you were hardly holding back.

"Baby," he called you, leaning in to try and make you look at him but with no success whatsoever. "I don't regret not getting with her. Anything I ever wanted with her was gone the moment I kissed you, too. I don't want her, I only want you…"

You said nothing.

"Y/N…" he softly called you once more.

You nodded in response, still not looking up at him.

Hyunjin sighed, feeling his chest tighten painfully at the beaten up sight of you. Suddenly, you felt distant, as if you had built an invisible wall in between the two of you and he could not get through it to save his life.

"It was just an example…"

"And you brought your point across. I would feel very shitty if you ever told Yerim I'm not your girlfriend, whether you said it right in front of me or not. Happy?"

"Baby, that's not—"

"I had already realised I was at fault and was about to apologise, though, because I really do hate that I put you through that with Changbin today and I am really, really sorry about it" your eyes went up to meet his, and although they showed how genuine you were being about being sorry, they also showed just how hurt you were, all because of him. "But oh well, thank you for the eye opening scenario, I guess".

"Y/N…"

"Everything okay?" Cherry's careful voice snapped both of you out of it, bringing your eyes up to be met not only with her worried expression, but Seungmin's right next to her.

You were fast to nod, sneakily wiping a tear that was about to fall, which did not go unnoticed by Hyunjin. Not sparing him another glance, you stood up to go to Cherry, snatching your hand away from his grasp the second he tried to hold it and make you stay.

"I'm getting a drink, come with me?" you asked Chaeryeong.

She nodded immediately, helping you out of the booth. "Of course, let's go".

On the other hand, Seungmin stood there, eyes scanning the heartbroken expression on his friend's face as he watched you leave towards the bar.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked.

Hyunjin shook his head no in frustration, leaning his head back against the seat and shutting his eyes close as he tried to contain the tears that had just started forming in them.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

"Okay, you need to stop drinking" Seungmin stated, placing his hand on top of Hyunjin's glass before taking it away.

Hyunjin glared at him, but ultimately said nothing. Instead, he focused on you from afar.

It must've been a little over thirty minutes since you and Chaeryeong had been sitting down by the bar. He could only see your back from where he was sitting, but he felt at ease when he watched you throw your head back and let out what he could tell was a throaty laugh of yours — one of those genuine ones he loved hearing so much, even more when he was the reason for it.

At least your friend had succeeded at making you feel better after your previous argument.

He, on the other hand, had been sulking next to Seungmin for the past half an hour. Drinking his feelings away had seemed to be the way to go, and although Seungmin had initially decided to just let it slide and keep him company during his self-destructive ways, he could tell when enough was enough.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" he questioned.

Hyunjin shrugged, leaning back against his seat. "I don't think she wants to hear me out right now".

Seungmin sighed. "What even happened for it to get that bad so fast?"

"I brought Yerim up".

Seungmin blinked in disbelief, feeling astounded to say the least. "What could possibly have happened for you to bring her of all people up".

"I'm an idiot," Hyunjin lamented, reaching for the drink Min had previously taken from him and downing it in one go. "That's what happened".

"And all of this because she got here later than she said she would?"

"No, it's not…" a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "It's much more than that. Mainly about her and Changbin hyung".

"They're just friends, Hyunjin".

"Now they are," he nodded, not being able to let go of their past together. "I just hated that they were alone for so long tonight, and that she felt the need to make it clear I'm not her boyfriend to him".

"So that's what this is about," Seungmin sighed, finally understanding the core of your argument. "You do realise she was just joking, right? Like, we all laughed because it was just that obvious".

"Was it?"

"Come on, man" he nudged him. "Even if you guys are not official, you two are exclusive. Do labels really matter when you both know you're together and serious about each other?"

Hyunjin stayed silent for a moment, trying to process his friend's words.

"We never established we're exclusive…"

"It's Y/N we're talking about" Seungmin reminded him. "She was faithful as hell to you even before you even made a move on her, why would it be any different now that you actually are head over heels for her? And you haven't even looked at someone else all this time, so…" he shrugged. "Some things are just unspoken, it doesn't mean they aren't there".

"I just… got insecure".

"More like jealous" Seungmin mumbled.

Hyunjin smiled weakly. "Insecure, genuinely. Sure, I tend to always get jealous, and I admit there was a bit of jealousy in there, too, but… I just got so fucking insecure when she corrected him, because yeah, she was faithful to me before and whatnot but Changbin hyung was the one exemption to it, and at the end of the day she's the one who gets to make the call and she can realise she'd rather be with someone else and choose Bin hyung over me any time".

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that" he shrugged. "I'm in this kind of trial, trying to prove to her that I'm serious about my feelings for her, and I… if it were up to me we would already be official as hell, but she's the one who gets to decide that, and until then I'm just… hand tied".

"I don't think you are, though?" Seungmin's words got Hyunjin tilting his head in confusion. "I mean… you guys are an actual couple by now, you're pretty much only missing the labels, and I'm sure Y/N would say yes in a heartbeat if you asked her to be your girlfriend".

Hyunjin sighed, nervously biting his lip as he looked in your direction once again.

Maybe you would've before. After your argument, however, he was not so sure anymore.

He just kept fucking up over and over when it came to you, and he was scared all the progress the two of you had made so far, all the proof he had given you when it came to showing you he was serious about you this time, would come crashing down just because of this one slip up of his.

He should've kept quiet. Fuck, he should've shut his mouth the moment you had open yours to apologise. Everything would be so much different now if he learned to just not say the first thing that comes to mind without thinking about it first.

Then again, he had never been good at expressing himself, that you knew very well. Especially when it came to this kind of moments when he felt put on the spot.

He wished he could just turn back time and shut his fucking mouth.

Seeing Seungmin take the bottle of soju away from the corner of his eye, he gave up on both talking and drinking altogether, folding his arms over the table and resting his head on them, as he could feel all the alcohol he had drunk finally begin to hit.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Hyunjin didn't know how long it had been. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe ten. Maybe an hour, or even five minutes? All he knew was that he had passed out for a bit.

He didn't even know if his friends were around anymore or if Seungmin was still by his side, as he could not hear anyone near him. Well, anyone he knew, for the various unknown voices chatting —if not yelling— over the loud music around the bar were already invading his ears from all over.

Stretching out over the table after a good minute and almost knocking down a glass of soju, he finally sat back up. Much to his surprise, nearly all your friends were back at the table. Everyone but Cherry, as she kept chatting with you by the bar.

"Good morning there" Chan greeted with a teasing smile, having the rest join in in a second.

God, he knew he would never hear the end of it now.

"Good morning," he joined them, cynically. "How long was I out for?"

"Like fifteen minutes?" Han answered. "I don't know, I just got here like five minutes ago but I saw you sleeping from the dance floor".

"Yeah, fifteen minutes is a good guess," Minho laughed under his breath. He was probably the one enjoying this the most. "Right, Seungmin?"

All eyes on Min, they were met with his rather distraught expression staring intently at the bar.

"Seungmin?" Minho pushed it.

"Huh?" he snapped out of it.

"How long was Hwang out for? You were with him the entire time".

"Like two bottles" he answered incoherently as his eyes travelled back to the bar.

Chan snorted. "That's not what we were asking but holy fuck, Hyunjin".

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, later focusing them on Seungmin by his side. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I just…" his eyes squinted. "Who are…"

As if on cue, everyone followed his stare. And suddenly, Hyunjin knew exactly why his friend felt so distraught.

You and Cherry seemed to have company, and not precisely the kind of it he was okay with. Two guys around your age he had never seen before in his life, who were getting way too close to you, were most definitely not the kind of company he ever wanted for you. Especially not the one dude who was coming awfully near your ear to try and properly speak to you.

"Aw, just like the old days" Minho pretended to wipe a nostalgic tear, earning himself a snort from Han and a small shove from Jeongin next to him.

"Hell no" Seungmin mumbled under his breath, not letting another second go by before rushing towards Chaeryeong.

That was what Hyunjin wanted. To be able to just go up there, grab you and make sure that any other guy knew you were his. For every single person in the world to know you were with him.

Instead, he sat there — watching from afar how Seungmin reached Cherry's side and pulled her to him, glaring at the stranger that had tried to hit on her and telling him something Hyunjin could not quite decipher yet could perfectly guess what it was. Something along the lines of 'she's taken', of course.

Exactly what he wanted to be able to do with you.

He could've sworn Seungmin had told the guy who was trying to hit on you off, too, and although it was not quite enough to make him feel at ease, he did feel thankful to his friend.

Boyfriend or not, there was only so much he could take, however. So, when the very same guy who had invaded your personal space did not seem to care about Seungmin's words nor about your polite rejection —as he could tell by the way you had taken a step back from him and awkwardly motioned with your hands for him to take a hint—, Hyunjin found himself standing up from his spot and sprinting towards you.

"What's going on here?" he asked, towering over you the moment he reached your side.

"Um, n-nothing," your words sounded just as nervous as you looked, eyeing Hyunjin up before you focused on the stranger in front. "This is—"

"I really don't care who he is" Hyunjin shut you down, eyes glaring at the guy. "Back off".

"Now why would I do that?" the man —whose name you had learned to be Junghee a minute ago when he tried to buy you a drink—, replied rather smugly.

"Hyunjin…" you grabbed his hand, stopping him right as you felt him move forward.

"She's clearly not interested, leave her alone".

"Why don't you let her speak for herself then?"

Hyunjin turned around to look at you, silently demanding for an answer, yet simultaneously begging you with his eyes alone not to challenge him this time around — not to do anything that would hurt him any further.

He should know better by now, though. Because although you looked taken aback and anxious even, your eyes were on him. Only him. Not once during all those seconds the two of them had been expecting an answer from you had you merely even glanced anywhere but him.

And that was enough to let him know what you wanted, if not who you wanted.

"She's taken," Hyunjin spat after having turned back around. "Back off".

"That's what that other dude said, but—"

"Dude, I'm her boyfriend. Now go".

Raising both arms in defeat, not without first eyeing you up and down in a way that could easily have earned a punch from Hyunjin, he backed away for once and for all.

Hyunjin shook his head in both disbelief and annoyance, making sure the dickhead actually left before turning around to lock eyes with your cold ones.

"You're not my boyf—" you fell quiet the moment he cornered you against the bar and firmly placed his hand on your nape.

"To some random dude who's trying to make a move on you, yes I am".

You didn't have time to protest, for his mouth on yours had prevented you from doing so before you even had the chance.

Not like you wanted to protest to begin with, as his lips trapping your bottom one in them and sucking on it the way you loved it was all you had needed that night after your fight.

For him to reassure you once again that he was serious about you was everything you needed and more.

You grabbed him by the collar at the same time you wrapped one arm around his neck, feeling like you would die if you didn't have him the closest you could right then. Thankfully, Hyunjin seemed to get the memo, bringing his hands dangerously down to the lowest of your back so he could pull you to him and get rid of every possible centimeter that was left between your bodies.

Somehow backing you up harder against the bar and making sure your bodies wouldn't lose the closeness he had put in between them, he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, smiling into the kiss after you had massaged his tongue with yours.

"You don't get to let other guys hit on you just because of a stupid argument we had" he mumbled against your lips, getting a soft hum out of you when he pulled at your bottom one.

"I wasn't…" you whispered.

"No?" he pulled away for a second. "Is that why you were about to introduce me to him like it was nothing?"

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "I panicked, I didn't know what to say".

"Mhm… that better be it" he trapped your lip in his once more. "Because you're mine".

"I'm n—"

"Shhh…" he hushed you with a kiss, making you smile against his mouth. "You are".

"You're an idiot," you chuckled, endearingly looking up at him and gently cupping his cheek. "And you're drunk".

"M—not," he whined, more cutely to your ears than he had intended.

"You sure?" you teased, holding his face now with both hands as he rested his forehead on yours. "You do taste quite drunk to me".

He laughed under his breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leaned down to rest his forehead on your shoulder — arms wrapping tightly around you as he tiredly nuzzled the crook of your neck.

"I may or may not have drunk my feelings away" he admitted.

"And the alcohol is finally starting to hit?"

He nodded, a quite heavy sigh of his tickling your neck.

"You wanna leave?" you asked, gently running a hand up and down his back.

Another silent nod was his answer. "Yeah, just wanna be with you right now…"

You smiled blissfully, planting a small kiss on his temple before your hand held his. "Okay then, let's go tell the rest we're dipping".

One look at your table was all it took for you to realise the two of you had been the main attraction back there. You didn't even notice the moment Chae and Seungmin had left your side and gone back to sit down with the rest, yet there they were, shamelessly gossipping together as they watched you walk towards the table.

The closer you got, the clearer you saw their teasing smiles — and the more you wanted to just turn around and get out of there with Hyunjin already.

"Glad to see you guys are on good terms again" Han teased as soon as you reached the table, motioning with his head towards your intertwined fingers.

"Didn't really appreciate the sight of you two exchanging saliva again, though" Minho pointed out.

"No one told you to look" Hyunjin shrugged.

Minho scoffed. "You were all up in our business, how could we not?"

"As if you weren't shoving your tongue down that one girl's throat minutes ago" you bit back, getting nothing but a proud smirk from him. "Anyway, we're leaving now, so…"

"Are you guys going to Hyunjin's dorm?" Jeongin asked.

"Mhm…" you nodded.

"You're staying there?" Cherry wondered.

You shook your head no. "I'm just d—"

"You're not?" Hyunjin asked in a pout.

You laughed under your breath. "I mean…"

"You guys can always figure that out later, but can I leave with you?" Innie drew your attention. "I'm tired and my dorm is on the way, we could split a taxi".

"That sounds great" you agreed. "Let's go then".

"If that's the case, I'm going with you guys, too" Changbin stood up as well, walking up to you right as Jeongin did.

"Why?" Hyunjin's eyebrows furrowed.

"Because you will probably pass out in the car and there is no way Y/N will be able to drag your drunk ass all the way up to our floor alone".

Hyunjin shrugged, pulling you closer to him by the waist. "Whatever, but Jeongin is sitting with us in the backseat".

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Changbin agreed to his friend's conditions. Maybe you had already been forgiven, but he was clearly not on the clear just yet for having kept you from him earlier that night.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

The ride home had been easier than you had initially thought, mainly because Hyunjin passed out on your shoulder the second you got in the taxi, and just like that he was no longer able to glare at Changbin like he had done right before getting in the car, even though his wishes of having Jeongin join the two of you on the backseat had been complied with.

He had also been able to walk up the stairs just fine — a bit slow, but just fine. Although he did trip once when there was only one floor left to theirs, and if it weren't for Changbin, who was walking behind the two of you just to make sure, then probably the story would've been very different.

All in all, it had not been that bad. Hyunjin wasn't wasted, to be fair, but all the alcohol he had drunk during that one moment of sulkiness had hit the hardest in the span of his confrontation with the pushy guy at the bar and the ride home.

By the time the three of you reached his room, he didn't think twice before letting go of your grasp around his waist and slumping down face first on his bed — a muffled whine reaching your ears and earning a smile from you that had Changbin shaking his head in disbelief over how head over heels you were for his friend.

"Well, seems like my job here is done, so…"

Reluctantly taking your eyes away from your passed out beloved on his bed, you turned around to look at Bin. "Thanks for coming with us," you smiled. "The trip up the stairs could've been hell if you weren't here".

He chuckled, taking a step towards you. "Yeah, to be honest he wasn't that bad tonight. There have been times when Seungmin and I have feared for our lives trying to drag him up those stairs".

You rolled your eyes in amusement. "I've heard the same kind of stories but with you being the one that has to be dragged upstairs".

"Now who was the snitch" he playfully squared up.

"You guys literally all snitch on each other" you laughed.

Hyunjin unconsciously tossed in bed, making both your heads snap in his direction, and as if on cue, both your stares turned softer — the mood suddenly dropping.

"He was really upset tonight…" Changbin was the first one to bring the topic up.

"Yeah…" you mumbled, intently staring at Hyunjin sleeping. "Maybe we shouldn't…"

"Hang out alone anymore?" he finished with an obvious tone.

You nodded, slowly. "At least until things are more clear between us and he feels okay with it".

"You mean until you guys put a label to what very clearly already is an official relationship" he smirked.

"Stop…" you lowered your head to try and hide the shy smile that had just curved up your lips. "Things are still a bit messy between us… and I hated knowing that I hurt him today and I would hate to hurt him again" a small sigh abandoned your mouth as you looked up to him. "I really love him, Binnie".

"I know you do," he smiled, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Let's just hang out while the others are around from now on".

"Yeah, let's do that" you agreed with a smile.

"Does this count as hanging out alone when Hyunjin is passed out in front of us?"

You couldn't help a throaty laugh from escaping your mouth, finding yourself having to cover it with one hand not to risk waking Hyunjin up, which seemed to be highly unlikely yet never impossible.

"You're staying the night?" he changed the topic, still not being able to erase the smile that had formed on his face over your laughter.

You shook your head no. "I'm just staying with him for a bit".

He snorted. "That's just calling to fall asleep on the floor next to him".

"I just want to make sure he stays sleeping on his side in case he throws up".

"Ew, I knew you were in love as hell but not to the point of being willing to clean his puke up".

"Shut up," you squinted your eyes at him, causing him to hold both hands up as he backed towards the door.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it now. I believe his pyjamas are in the second drawer," he motioned. "Although I guess he could sleep in his underwear alone, I don't know".

"What?"

"You're changing him, aren't you?" Changbin raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No, you change him".

He scoffed. "You're the one dating him, that's your problem now".

"But you're a boy..."

"What are we, twelve?" he laughed. "Don't act like you've never seen him naked before".

"Okay first, you don't know that" you pointed an accusing finger at him. "And second, he's drunk".

"So?"

"I don't want to overstep…"

"Trust me, he won't be mad that you changed him to sleep" he smirked.

"Changbinnnn," you begged in a whine.

"Ugh, okay" he gave in, realising there was no changing your mind. "Just go wait outside. And when he gets mad at me for changing his clothes, I'm throwing you under the bus".

"I'll take the risk" you laughed.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Pulling down the white oversized t-shirt of Hyunjin's that Changbin had given you after having successfully convinced you to spend the night before he could leave to his room for once and for all, you couldn't help but feel all giddy. You hadn't worn them many times, maybe one or two, but still, you could never grow used to wearing Hyunjin's clothes. And a part of you couldn't help but not feel like ever giving it back.

The way it had his particular scent you loved so much all over, the way it was long enough to cover just a little under your thighs, the way it felt almost like being in his arms, the way it was his.

Snapping out of it when you heard a heavy sigh coming from the bed, you were met with the cutest sight of Hyunjin tucked into it. Changbin had gone through the trouble, since he knew for a fact you would have a hard time trying to tuck him in if not.

The sheets were pulled up to his chin, in a way you could only see his uncovered face as he laid on his back and how the covers moved slowly up and down with each breath he took.

His eyes remained closed and his breathing calm. You couldn't help but feel bad for the hangover you knew he was waking up with the next morning, although that itself wasn't enough to erase the smile from off your face as you stared at him.

It was ridiculous how soft you were for him, not to say weak. You were so mad earlier that night, so hurt that he had brought up the one girl you were insecure about when it came to his past, that you thought the two of you would go your different ways that night and take a couple of days to make up.

But then there he was, telling a random guy who was trying to hit on you to back off and calling himself your boyfriend, kissing you like you were the only people in the bar, and that was all it took for you to feel at ease again — for you to know you would be alright regardless of the pending conversation you still needed to have.

Physically shaking your head as you were unable to mentally shake off his voice repeating the word 'boyfriend' over and over, causing your heart to soar with every memory of it, you went up to his drawer by the bed.

You took out the face wipes you knew he kept in there and went to the mirror next to it so you could take off your makeup. This wasn't your ideal night routine, but it would have to do for tonight.

"Mm…" Hyunjin's tired voice had your head snapping in his direction, only to be met with his visibly heavy eyes staring at you. "Sexy".

You snorted, feeling your face burn yet refusing to show how flustered you were over his sudden comment. Instead, you shook your head in amusement and threw the wipe into the small trash bin under his desk before you took a clean one out of the package.

"You're awake" you pointed out the obvious, sitting down by the edge of the bed.

"Yeah…" he sighed, eyes unconsciously closing for a moment there. "You looked too good for me not to wake up".

"That makes absolutely no sense" you laughed, leaning in to pull the covers slightly down to his chest.

"Yes, it does" he fought back, grimacing when the cold wipe came in contact with his face yet not protesting as you gently cleaned him up. "You should wear my clothes more often".

"I will take you up on that offer" you smiled, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead before going to throw the used wipe in the bin, too. "I'm borrowing a pair of sweatpants to sleep in".

"Noo, come here," he protested, stretching his arms out of the covers for you to go over there. "I meant you should wear my t-shirts with nothing else more often".

"Oh? You like the sight, Hwang Hyunjin?"

"You know I do" his eyes squinted accusingly.

"And what if I wanna go to the bathroom or the kitchen?" you taunted, folding your arms over your chest.

"If the guys are here then you put a pair of sweatpants on before leaving my room" his dead serious semblance got you grinning. "If we're alone, then it doesn't matter".

"Gatekeeping, I see" you came closer to the bed, enough for him to reach his hand out and grab your wrist.

"Of course," he proudly stated, pulling you down onto the bed with him — his hand resting against your back to pull you closer, later travelling down to the back of your thigh and guiding it over his waistline. "Only I get to see your pretty thighs like this".

This time, you could not hide the prominent heat in your cheeks, having to look down for a second to try and collect yourself, only to be met with his fingers holding your chin up and his lips pressing softly on yours.

Although it had begun tenderly, almost innocently, it was only a matter of seconds before Hyunjin's tongue was opening its way into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine as your hand went to his nape and your fingers were entangled in his brown locks.

It wasn't until his fingertips traced their way up from your thigh to your hip and his hand dug inside the t-shirt of his you were wearing, reaching dangerously close to the curve of your breasts, that you pulled away.

"So you're a horny drunk…" you smirked, almost as if having found his weakness. "Should've seen it coming".

"I always wanna touch you" he pouted.

"Something tells me it's different this time" you let out a breathy laugh, holding his wrist and gently removing it from underneath your top. "So I'm stopping you before we get too caught up".

"But I need you…" he whined, burying his face in your chest.

"You're literally half asleep, what would you be able to do anyway?"

"Don't underestimate me, baby girl".

You felt him smile against your chest in response to the small laugh that had just escaped your throat at his threatening words.

Considering your little banter to be done with after his last statement, Hyunjin's arms snaked around your waist and pulled you somewhat closer to him — as close as the covers in between the two of you allowed him to.

"You okay?" you whispered when you felt him take a heavy breath, tenderly running your fingers through his hair.

"Everything's spinning" he managed to let out as he exhaled.

You chuckled, pressing your lips down on the crown of his head. "That's what happens when you down two bottles of soju in half an hour".

He pouted. "I was… feeling very shitty…"

Your heart hurt at his words, and you were met with his heavy-looking chocolate eyes after he had pulled slightly away from your chest.

Silence filled the room for a minute, words somehow not being needed as you quietly looked at each other.

Wetting his lips, he reached a hand up to cup your cheek, drawing small circles on it with his thumb and smiling when your hand reached up to do the same with his wrist.

"I'm sorry about what I said," he apologised. "I shouldn't have brought Y—"

"I really don't wanna talk about her anymore" you softly cut him off.

He nodded, tenderly grabbing your hand in his and caressing the back of it with his thumb. "I'm really sorry, baby… I never wanted to hurt you".

"Hey, it's okay" you hushed him. "I never wanted to hurt you either. I'm sorry too, Jinnie".

He smiled, tiredly yet ever so blissfully — eyes closing once again right as he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a sweet kiss to it.

"I only want you. All to myself. No one else".

"You don't want me with anyone else or you don't want anyone else but me?" you couldn't help but tease.

"Both," his confident tone got a giggle out of you. "But you're the one who gets to decide whether you want to be with me for real now and I just keep fucking up an—"

"Baby…" you called him softly as ever, lovingly running your thumb over his bottom lip and managing to make him open his eyes once more. "You haven't even fucked up".

"I just did tonight, though…"

"Not in a way that will stop me from wanting to be with you" you reassured him with a smile.

"You promise?" he whispered.

You nodded, answering his question by briefly pressing your lips against his. "Remember what I told you the morning after we got together?"

"You told me many things that morning" he smirked, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement.

"About not feeling like you have to watch your every move around me" you reminded him. "I said that as long as y—"

"I don't go to someone else or start feeling trapped again we would be alright…" he completed for you.

"And you haven't done any of those, have you?"

"No, of course not" he sounded almost offended by that question. "If anything you might start feeling trapped with how clingy I got".

A throaty laugh escaped your mouth at that, snuggling closer to him and feeling your heart melt when his hand was naturally placed on the curve of your waist.

Fuck, you loved him.

"What are you saying, I love clingy" you admitted. "And since you haven't done any of those two things I don't really consider that you've fucked up… couples argue here and there, it's okay".

"Are you saying we're a couple now?" he smiled.

You bit your bottom lip, looking away from his eyes as you were at a loss of words and felt your face burn under his stare.

"Go to sleep, Jinnie".

"You haven't answered my question".

"You're drunk" you pointed out. "We'll talk about this some other time".

Hyunjin pouted, but ultimately decided to let it go. "You're staying the night?"

You nodded. "How else am I supposed to take care of your drunken ass tonight?"

"That is very girlfriend of you" he smirked.

You couldn't help the giggle that had just ran past your lips, just like you couldn't help the backflip your heart had just done. "You're going to regret this so much in the morning".

"I won't" he stood his ground.

"We'll see about that tomorrow" you chuckled. "Now go to sleep".

"At least get in here with me," he tugged at the covers for you to get inside. "You're practically naked, don't want my baby to catch a cold".

"Shut up," you laughed under your breath, embarrassed, yet complied with his wishes.

Helping him pull the sheets up, you got inside them with him, who wasted no time to tuck you in with him and tightly engulf you in his arms.

You sighed contentedly when your face rested on his chest, throwing a leg over his waist.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mhm…" your body snuggled closer to him. "This was very boyfriend of you" you couldn't help but tease.

Feeling him smile against the crown of your head, you were greatly surprised by his long fingers pushing your chin up to be met with his plump lips.

"That's what you should've told that one idiot that was hitting on you".

"And who says I didn't?"

He pulled back from your mouth, staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to process the words that had just come out of it. "Y-You did?"

You nodded, quite amusedly.

"You told him I was your boyfriend?"

"Well, I told him I had a boyfriend. He didn't know who you were, so…" you laughed at his cute expression right then.

"And even then he still wouldn't back off?" he scoffed. "God, I should've punched him".

An amused giggle escaped your mouth. "It's fine, I was actually about to just walk away when you got there" you confessed, tenderly running your thumb up and down the corner of his mouth. "You really underestimate how bad I don't want to be hit on by anyone but you, Hwang Hyunjin".

The smile that had just curved up his lips right then could easily be one of your favourites he'd ever given you. There was something about his crescent moon eyes and his dimples that had your heart soaring.

You didn't get to stare at it for long, though, for those same lips that were holding the most beautiful smile you had ever seen were soon to be pressed on yours, somehow managing to show you everything he felt for you yet did not have the right words to express.

Feeling his hot breath tickle your wet lips after the lack of oxygen had broken you apart, you found yourself smiling against his mouth, pecking it ever so lightly and having him do the same the next second.

"Be my girlfriend?" he whispered against your mouth.

Your eyes opened wide, and you were sure they looked elated as ever — for you were elated as ever.

You could scream. You could cry. You could laugh. Everything at once as you were hit by the one question you had at some point believed Hyunjin would never let himself ask you.

You could do so many things right then as you stared into his tired yet genuine eyes, and your heart screamed for you to answer with the 'yes' that had gotten stuck at the back of your throat the second his question reached your ears.

At last, though, you let the rational part of you win for once.

Leaning in to steal a soft, lingering kiss from his cloudlike lips, you looked up at him with a small smile. "Ask me again when you're sober".

Letting out a breathy, defeated laugh, he rested his forehead on yours as he closed his eyes. "Will you say yes?"

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. "Go to sleep, baby".

Although not entirely satisfied with your answer, he gave it up for once and for all, pulling you back to his chest as he closed his eyes and found comfort in the way your limbs were loosely wrapped around him. You were lucky the alcohol kept dragging him into a slumber, otherwise you would not have heard the end of it until you gave him a proper answer.

In less than a minute, he was fast asleep all over again.

You, on the other hand, were left wide awake while almost inaudible snores abandoned his lips every few seconds — unable to conceal your sleep as everything that happened that night kept replaying in your mind over and over. More precisely, images of your last conversation right before he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

With your heart pumping hard against your chest to the point you were scared it would wake him up, you could only wish he would not change his mind once he woke up. That if he even remembered everything that had left his mouth that night.

Wide awake, you were left thinking of every possible outcome following this night.

Whatever happened, though, drunk words were sober thoughts, and although conflicted over the circumstances they had been spoken on, you could not help the overwhelming happiness taking over your mind and body now that you knew Hwang Hyunjin wanted to make things official with you.

tag list: @blaaiissee @hyuneytoast @staysuki @tardiscompanion @princehyun-jin @hyuka-luvbot @halesandy @nattisbored @qnjayn @hibuki-chan @purenjuniverse @seungly @suhnnyskiess @midsoulz @kwanisms @esme-ordaz @perriwiinkle @firnze @soobin-chois @moon-320 @multifandomizer @elviransworld @valewoos @ktttwwn @hazzaloveschopsuey @hannahdinse8 @zoe8stay @leechanniee @phenomenalgirl9 @aeminju @threevracha @laryisthinking @wolfietara @iam2out @kingggjaay @cosmic-railwayxo @straykidsficsrecsbaby @marsophilia @choibeomgogi @ddaengpotate @oceanyocean @rinsdesires @jhslmhbtsskz @lixlovesworld @keenlampponyclam @yerimselgi @mal-lunar-28 @littlestarhyun @mingiholic @euphroseia

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 12

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Namjoon focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, found family, domestic/slice of life, action/adventure ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 11.2k ⤑ warnings: lol idk what it is about namjoon that makes me so feral but explicit & implied smut (penetrative, 34+35, face-riding, daddy kink), description of body horror, mentions of death & past traumas, pet names (baby). ⤑ note: lmao bc the way i've been working on this chapter since the end of last year, and it's FINALLY being posted. i've been in this weird slump with my writing, so i hope that this is ok lol. enjoy, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! :)

Chapters: Series Masterlist | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

“You’re so annoying,” you complain, shutting the door behind you. Your next lecture is in half an hour, but Hoseok will be looking for you soon.

The two of you have about fifteen minutes.

“I’ll be fast,” Namjoon promises, already pulling off his top. His roommates aren’t in. They’re most-likely hanging out in the common rooms and won’t be back for a while.

It’s just you and him.

And the paramour secret that hangs between you two.

Your back is pressed against the door as you eye him. In just his slacks, he looks like sin. Tall and muscular, sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders and long arms. Blessed with the perfect body proportions. The hunger in your eyes grows the longer you stare.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this.”

It’s what you tell him every time, but you lift your skirt. His gaze automatically locks onto your thighs as he unbuckles his belt, and his cock twitches with interest when he catches a peek of your panties.

His voice is husky when he asks, “Should we stop?”

He already knows the answer. It’s the same as it always is.

“No,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. A daring gesture as a coy smile dances on your lips. You slowly loosen the buttons of your blouse one by one. His gaze lifts to your face as you whisper, “Want you, daddy.”

Namjoon wants you more.

Without another second to waste, his long strides close the distance between you two. Strong hands impatiently yanking at the fabric of your clothes as he leans down to kiss you at last.

Namjoon wakes, sticky with sweat.

The bed he’s on is bigger and more comfortable than the cheap bunk at his dorm. The white duvet – kicked to the floor at some point of the night – is thick and weighted; a godsend compared to the thin, itchy blanket he was given when assigned to his room. The bedroom itself, curated to his taste, is woodsy, minimalistic, and bold: favorite art pieces hang on the walls and decorate the space that reflect his current moods, a private library with books that frequently changes to new titles whenever he finishes reading some, and bonsais that he’s been taking care of are starting to bloom flowers.

It takes him a moment, but he realizes he’s no longer a student nor an enchanter at Blackstone Castle.

A sigh falls from his lips as he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

Another dream about you.

He’s been doing that a lot lately. Dreaming of you.

You, sneaking into his bed after lights out and everyone else is asleep. You, taking his hand and leading him into secluded places between classes and when things at the shop are slow. You, climbing over his lap with your hands steady on his shoulders as he holds your waist, loving the way you look on top of him.

Once upon a time, when all this initially started, Namjoon thought it’d never go beyond a physical affair. The two of you were clearly attracted to each other. When the stress of exams, a looming Harrowing, and the competitive streaks between you two became too much, you often sought each other out.

But at some point, Namjoon realized it was starting to mean something more to him.

At some point, Namjoon realized it was because he was falling in love with you.

And somehow, at some point, you started to fall in love with him too.

You, dedicated and hardworking, quiet and serious with your studies, and burning with a hunger for knowledge and an eagerness to test your limits. You, also kind and caring, loyal and protective of the people you love deeply, and who’ve dreamed of opening this shop of comfort to help people. You, who carries the warmth and radiance of the sun, beautiful in the way that starlights compliment the night sky, and yet look to the shadows of the moon at him.

Love to Namjoon is still… a new concept. 

There are days where he isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing or what the future holds with you. There are days where he questions why you even love someone like him when the others could be much better lovers.

It’s like fire. Pretty to admire, comforting to feel its warmth; a guidance of light through a dark and harsh world, but never to touch. Never his to claim and hold as the shadows of loneliness and insecurity grow around him. Love burns as fire does, leaving nothing but scalding embers and ash as its remains.

He loved his family, but they had easily given him up after he awakened his magical powers, even though he desperately ran away from towers and fortresses to beg for their forgiveness. He loved his hometown in the countryside, but he still remembers the look of hatred on the villagers’ faces once they found out what he was and deemed him a monster. He loved his friend, Ignis, and his untimely death by the cruel hands of hunters is still a burden Namjoon is forced to carry with him.

But there are days where love just feels… nice. 

Where, in the early morning, when he’s getting ready for a run by the river, you’d stumble down the stairs shortly after him with your hair still a bit messy from sleep and your eyes barely open, and simply ask if he wants coffee and breakfast with you now or when he comes back. 

Where, more often than he’d like to admit, a spell backfires and instead of changing the temperature of the shop, he ends up casting a sleeping spell on all the patrons, and you end up fighting your drowsiness to set things right, never once berating him or making him feel bad for any harmless accidents.

Where, after a long day, the two of you wind down together, sprawled in his library nook downstairs, not really talking to each other – too caught up in your own readings for conversation – but finding each other’s presence comforting nonetheless as he uses your thighs as a pillow while you absently run your fingers through his hair, or when you’d prop your legs over his lap as he gently massages your calves.

If Namjoon could write a million poems to describe how he feels around you, it still wouldn’t be enough. With you, he feels safe. With you, he feels comfortable. With you, he feels accepted, despite all his flaws and mistakes.

Namjoon loves you more than anyone he’s ever loved before. From the days you two were just students in Blackstone Castle to now. He loves the shop, the family it has brought together, the freedom of being himself – an ordinary man who likes books, nature, and art – without being condemned for his affinity to magic.

But like his family, his hometown, and even Ignis, he’s afraid that one day, you, the home you built with him, and the family you both found will all disappear.

And it’ll be his fault.

With a deep, frustrated sigh, Namjoon forces himself to sit up.

Before, he used to dream a lot about all the things he’s loved and lost. He recalls every detail of it: the day of his awakening, the fires that destroyed his home, how often he ran away to apologize to his parents, the screams of agony when he had to leave his only friend behind.

Now, Namjoon dreams about you.

You’re everything he loves.

You’re everything he’s afraid to lose.

“I’m heading out now!” Seokjin calls out, putting on his shoes by the front door.

“Okay, be safe,” you tell him, coming to the entryway to see him out. Seokjin promises he will and pulls you in for a kiss.

Behind the counter, Namjoon finds himself looking away.

Recently, Seokjin started his own guild with his friends from the Freelancers. After a mission involving mages went awry, they left their old organizations and started calling themselves the Oathkeepers. As a newly-established guild, most of their work comes from notices placed on the town’s community board, or word-by-mouth from people who’ve hired them before.

Things have slowed down a lot compared to how busy they were in their former guild. Seokjin was hardly home, and when he was, he was exhausted. While it’s nice to see the former warden around the shop these days, Namjoon can tell that the thrill of excitement and adventures are sorely missed, as well as the amount of coins he was able to collect after each successful quest they’ve completed.

“Can we go too?” Jungkook asks, already slipping a rucksack over his shoulder.

“Please,” Taehyung tacks on, honey-colored eyes wide and pleading as he stares directly at you.

Your lips part with an almost-spoken answer until you catch yourself, and helplessly look toward Namjoon with a face that’s just about ready to give anything the raven familiar desires.

Namjoon sighs. He can’t blame the two youngest for wanting to go with Seokjin. Whatever adventures he has planned today are far more appealing than being stuck in the shop all day. Even though, at the shop, Taehyung normally follows Hoseok around, and Jungkook quietly admires Namjoon doing mundane work.

“Sure, why not?” He decides with a shrug. “Be careful and listen to Jin-hyung, though.”

“Yes!” Taehyung and Jungkook cheer and high-five each other.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go. The others are waiting for us,” Seokjin urges before turning to you again. He kisses you one more time and adds, “We’ll be back before dinner.”

“Bye, hyung. Bye, kids. Look out for each other,” Hoseok reminds them, standing beside you with Yoongi in his arms. The black cat looks comfortable in Hoseok’s hold, pointed ears twitching as he turns his head to look at the others.

“We will,” Jungkook promises, nearly bouncing on his feet with excitement. A sheepish smile spreads on his face as he caresses your cheek and kisses you sweetly. “We’ll be going now.”

“Don’t miss us too much, darling,” Taehyung teases when it’s his turn, tilting your chin up and diving in for a goodbye kiss as well. He smirks at the flustered look on your face as Seokjin calls for them to hurry up.

As you watch them leave, Hoseok nudges you. There’s a knowing look on his face when he comments, “You look tempted to join them.”

“It does seem fun,” you acknowledge with a small sigh. Seokjin makes his quests sound so thrilling and perilous, even if you know he exaggerates a bit just to impress you most of the time.

Namjoon frowns and speaks up. “I’d rather you stay here.”

You turn to him, a bit defiant, and place a hand on your hip. “Why? Think I can’t do it?”

“Ooh,” Hoseok utters with a smile. He and Yoongi look between you and Namjoon with mild amusement.

“It’s not that,” he retorts, nearly rolling his eyes. He knows that you’re perfectly capable of becoming an adventurer and would be a great asset to the Oathkeepers. “What Jin-hyung and the others do is dangerous.”

“I can handle danger,” you tell him. Hoseok nods his head and agrees you can. Without looking away from Namjoon, you give your best friend a high-five.

“Here is safe,” Namjoon argues with a finality in his voice. He frowns when he looks at you. “And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It occurs to you and Hoseok that Namjoon is being very serious.

“Namjoon, we’re just kidding,” Hoseok quickly assures him. “Neither of us are going anywhere. The shop is our responsibility.”

“Yeah. And even if I did go on a quest with Jin, you don’t need to worry about me.” You walk up to Namjoon and take his hands in yours. “I can handle myself, Namjoon.”

Words you’ve told him repeatedly, even before the night of your Harrowing back in Blackstone Castle. In the library where he’d always run into you.

“I know you can, baby.” He brings your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “If it comes to that, just promise you’ll come back to me, okay?”

Before Jungkook was turned into a toad by an evil witch, he was an adventurer. He joined a guild with some same-age friends, traveled far from home, saw rare sights, fought challenging beasts, and visited beautiful places. Excitement and wonder were at every corner.

But this…

“Your grand task today,” Seokjin informs as he unceremoniously hands a stack of fliers each to Taehyung and Jungkook, “is to pass these out and put them around town.”

This isn’t it.

Jungkook glances down at the posters. Since the Oathkeepers are still new, Seokjin and the others have been trying to promote their guild and ask around for work. The neat calligraphy and the print of their symbol is a way to do just that.

“Actually, I think Hoseok-hyung might need my help at the shop after all,” Taehyung tries to back out. This isn’t the kind of quest he had in mind either.

“You’re already here. Just help out a little,” Seokjin pushes, holding out a flier from his own stack and handing it to someone who curiously grabs it. “This will help attract people to our shop too.”

Taehyung pouts, but relents. “Fine. But I want to go on a real adventure next time.”

“Hyung, I think I can finish my stack faster than you,” Jungkook suddenly challenges. 

Taehyung’s golden eyes light up with a competitive streak. “You’re on.”

“Wait,” Seokjin begins, suddenly feeling left out. He starts to shove his fliers in the arms of people passing by. “This isn’t a contest. You guys…”

Without waiting for Seokjin to finish, both Taehyung and Jungkook dart off to opposite directions. His hands work quickly as he slides the fliers under doors, sticks them on the walls, and hands them out to whoever he sees.

“Please come to our shop,” Jungkook says, handing one of the last ones to a guy in a cloak. Most of the people he had passed them to merely glance at them without another thought, but this stranger stops and reads through it.

“Kim Seokjin?” he reads out loud, as if the name is familiar to him.

Jungkook pauses and looks at the mysterious stranger. The cloak covers most of his face and body, but he meets his eyes with a look of curiosity. With a tilt of his head, Jungkook asks, “You know my hyung?”

The stranger nods. “Hey kid. Do you happen to know a guy named Kim Namjoon?”

When Seokjin and the others return to the shop, they aren’t alone.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice says as he steps inside. He pulls down the hood of his cloak, revealing his handsome face. “I knew you’d be together, but I never thought I’d find you all here.”

“Jackson?!” Namjoon’s mouth drops, knocking over the chair he was sitting on as he rushes to greet his friend. The two clasps hands and pull each other into a quick hug.

Hoseok laughs in disbelief, welcoming him as well in a similar manner. “Hey, man! It’s good to see you!”

“Likewise,” Jackson replies with a big smile. He looks around the shop, in awe as he takes it in all. “So, this is where you guys have been hiding.”

The walls are painted bright, vivid colors. There’s a mix-mash of furniture, from old antiques and oddities to more modern pieces. The cozy entrance where you all stand divides the parlor and the tavern, and upstairs are the private rooms of the residents.

Perhaps to regular humans, it’s just a quirky shop. But for a mage like Jackson, he can feel the magical energy: the warmth of it on his fingertips, the whimsical lightness that eases his worries away, the safety from the protection spells cast in every room.

A kind of place that’s easy to overlook, yet brings in a strange sense of comfort that he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“Like it?” you ask with a bright smile, shoulders rising with pride. “This is our home.”

“It’s incredible,” he tells you, thoroughly impressed. His voice softens as he adds, “I didn’t think I’d ever run into a place like this.”

“Who is he, babe?” Jimin asks you, curious of the newcomer. Taehyung and Jungkook share the same wonder, coming to stand next to you and Yoongi. All four of them are new faces to Jackson, even though he had already met Yoongi in his cat form.

“He’s a friend,” you explain as Jackson politely introduces himself to them. “We all went to the same school.”

Some time has passed since you’ve all escaped Blackstone Castle and found your place in this town. A lot of things have changed since you last saw Jackson as well. After that night, you haven’t seen or heard from any of the other mages.

Until now.

Jackson stands before you all, travel-worn and exhausted. His face is thinner and more sunken. Dark circles are beneath his tired eyes, as if he hadn’t properly slept in days. There’s a scar on his cheek that hadn’t been there before.

“We ran into him in town,” Seokjin informs, coming to greet you with a quick kiss. Jackson arches an eyebrow when he sees a former warden kiss a mage. “He said he needs to talk to Namjoon.”

“Me?” the man in question asks, surprised.

“That’s right. Although…” Jackson trails off as he turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “Maybe this is something you guys could help with too.”

You and Hoseok exchange glances with each other. Then, curiously, you ask, “What do you mean?”

But Jackson hesitates. His eyes flicker to the others, suggesting that the news he’s about to share must be spoken in private. That its details require the use of magic, and Jackson doesn’t know who among your group already knows the truth about you, Hoseok, and Namjoon.

“Have you eaten yet, Jackson?” Hoseok suddenly asks, easing into a bright smile. “Stay for a while. We have a lot to catch up on.”

It feels like old times.

Jackson and Namjoon share a drink. Their glasses clink together before they chug down the golden liquor.

Hoseok’s loud laughter is carried throughout the room, more amused by Yoongi’s reaction to Seokjin’s joke than the punchline itself. Despite that, Seokjin attempts to make another. His face burns red from the tips of his ears down to his neck as he desperately tries to refrain from laughing at his own joke. And when he fails at the delivery, he smacks Yoongi in the arm as if it’s his fault. Hoseok, somehow, laughs even harder.

Jimin pours another shot, cheeks flushed a rosy pink and barely able to see straight. The clear liquor misses the glass entirely and spills mostly on the table. Some of it drips to Jungkook’s pants, who barely registers it. Instead, his round eyes are locked on you, lovestruck as he watches you and Taehyung drunkenly slow dance together.

Taehyung spins you beneath his arm and catches you when you stumble forward. The both of you are clinging onto each other’s arms, in fits of giggles as he presses his forehead against yours. It’s like no one else is in the room except you two. Not even any of your other lovers, who seamlessly take turns drinking with you and passing you around from one to another throughout the night.

Seeing everyone around him relaxed and having fun reminds Namjoon of the parties back at Blackstone Castle. It isn’t unusual for apprentices to sneak away at night to hook up, drink with friends, and celebrate small achievements and occasions. With the wardens constantly watching them, the heavy burdens of exams and Harrowings on their shoulders, and a strict system followed by the staff to keep magic restricted, it’s sometimes the only way the students could let loose.

Jackson was fond of going to these parties. He’d go to as many as he could, and made lots of friends with his outgoing and funny personality. Your old roommates were too, and they’d drag you along with the promise of Hoseok attending a party as well. And Namjoon – who’d patiently wait and catch your eye when you’re alone – would sneak you out before anyone would notice you’re both gone.

“I knew she’d end up with you or Hoseok,” Jackson comments, drawing Namjoon out of his thoughts. They watch as you end your dance with Taehyung with a curtsy before he guides you to Hoseok, who easily gathers you in his arms. “But it looks like she got both of you and more.”

“She’s our girl,” Namjoon agrees with a fond smile. 

Namjoon used to be a little jealous of Hoseok. After all, Hoseok loved you first. He still loves you now. 

But when you feel Namjoon’s gaze on you from across the room, you meet his eyes and smile. With the same sincerity you had back then, when you had first said those words to him during your birthday, you mouth the words, “I love you.”

It’s not words you often say to each other – even though you clearly do, and he loves you just the same – but it still takes his breath every time. You love him. Someone as precious and beautiful as you chooses to love a guy like him.

“Who would’ve thought?” Jackson muses, sipping on his drink.

It feels like old times, but things have changed. 

Namjoon certainly has. Without the vigilant gaze of the wardens and the suffocating confinements of the fortresses, he is a free man in this town. He can run along the river every morning, read books beneath the shade of a tree at the park, and go out with you and the other guys when the shop is closed. No one knows that he’s a mage here; no one looks at him like an abomination or something Wicked.

Here, he is just Namjoon. And as himself, he’s learned to enjoy his life a bit more. He’s learned to cherish those he holds so dearly, and savor those precious moments with gratitude. He’s learned to love, even when sometimes, he wonders if he deserves it.

For Jackson, however, his experiences after Blackstone are entirely different.

Since that night, he’s been on the run. He barely had time to grieve and process what had happened for a while, running before the nightmares caught up to him. He never stays in a town too long, never reveals too much about what he is or where he came from. In Blackstone, the threats were contained within the castle: power-hungry wardens, missued spells, Harrowings, and the nightmarish realm of the Veil. Out here, anything could happen. Anyone could become a potential threat.

“You’re always welcome to stay here, Jackson,” Namjoon offers after a few more drinks, just as Taehyung and Jungkook help carry a drunk Jimin upstairs into the spare bedroom. He grimaces, unable to take back what he said.

The eighth room doesn’t belong to Jackson anyway.

“I appreciate it, but it looks like you have a full house,” Jackson replies as he looks around the shop again. 

Everyone seemed to have passed their limit. Hoseok is zoning out, sitting quietly with a blank expression on his face. Yoongi was the opposite, cheering loudly and running around when he won a card game you were all playing, but now his energy has died down as he patiently waits for you to go to bed with him. Seokjin is sober enough to clean up, putting away the empty bottles and picking up the cards that were thrown on the floor. Neither Taehyung nor Jungkook have come back down after they took Jimin upstairs, so they must have fallen asleep as well. No one is paying attention to them.

Now is as good a time as any to reveal why he’s here.

“What’s that?” Namjoon asks, seeing Jackson pull out a couple fliers. One of them is one he received from Jungkook earlier that day. The other one has a bit more wear and tear, creases showing that it’s been folded and re-opened over and over.

“I think I might have a job you and your friends would be interested in,” he tells him, showing the flier that the Oathkeepers were passing out. “I ran into a couple mages you guys helped out a few towns over. It’s rare to run into others like us, let alone a group of mages and humans who are willing to help each other out. When they described you guys, I had a feeling I knew exactly who they were talking about. Turns out, I was right.”

Namjoon remembers them. Seokjin’s former guild wanted to bring in mages to the frontlines of their quests, but at the expense of abusive power and enslavement to control them. It was a controversial stance that eventually divided the guild and led to Seokjin and his friends separating from them altogether after all of you helped the captured mages escape.

“That’s why you were looking for me?” Namjoon asks, remembering Seokjin had mentioned that Jackson wanted to speak with him.

“I was looking for everybody. You. Hoseok. Your girl. My old roommates. Any of our old friends,” he lists with a frown. It doesn’t seem like he had much luck finding anyone else. Jackson then pushes the second paper – the worn and torn one – toward him. “While looking around, I found this.”

Without reading it, Namjoon asks, “What is it?”

“It’s the job,” Jackson reminds him, carefully watching as Namjoon picks it up and unfolds the paper.

“Help wanted,” Namjoon reads out loud. “Every night, the undead wakes from their eternal slumber and attacks our small village. No one knows why or where they are coming from, but our farmers suspect a necromancer is to blame.”

Necromancy?

Magic, as beautiful and wonderful as it could be, is also dangerous and deadly. Certain magic is forbidden for a reason. Messing with the afterlife is considered one of them.

“Keep going,” Jackson urges.

“Each night, our numbers dwindle as the undead grows. Soon, there will be nothing left of our village,” Namjoon continues with a frown. “In a desperate plea for help, we are sending our notices far and wide in hopes to find anyone brave enough to take this urgent quest. We will do whatever it takes to save our home. Please, to anyone who finds this, help us.”

Namjoon doesn’t get it. Dark magic is explicitly banned from the fortresses. It’s why they’ve been built and why they contain mages in the first place. Jackson knows this. He’s lived in these towers too.

“Check the location,” Jackson quietly presses before Namjoon could turn it down.

He does, glancing down at the paper again. He nearly drops it when he sees where the quest is coming from.

Hawthorn Village. His hometown.

He’s tried and failed several times to return to that place ever since he was sent away on the day of his magical awakening. Ignis died helping Namjoon on his last attempt to return, and Namjoon swore he would never try again after that haunting day.

Suddenly, it feels like it’s hard for him to breathe. To swallow. He blinks back the sting of tears as he looks at his friend. “That place…”

“We can come with you,” Seokjin suddenly offers, holding some empty bottles and glasses that he is taking to the sink. “The Oathkeepers and I. We have the documents that prove that we’re a legitimate guild.”

No one would question them on the road. Some would be more willing to help and provide information when they see they’re a group on a mission and not just ordinary travelers as well.

“What do you say?” Jackson asks, sounding hopeful. “I won’t be able to do this on my own. They’ll need us, Namjoon. We can help them. All of us can.”

And Namjoon realizes why Jackson mentioned you and Hoseok could help with this quest as well.

His gaze immediately turns to you.

Your arm is around Yoongi’s neck as he helps you stand. You look flushed, cheeks hot and limbs loose from the alcohol. A bashful giggle escapes your lips at your own predicament, and how you feel like a fawn learning to walk as you use Yoongi to keep your balance. And you only laugh harder when you catch a glimpse of Hoseok’s face as he blinks slowly at you, and his mouth lifts into a slight chuckle of his own.

After everything you’ve all been through at Blackstone Castle, Namjoon swore he’d do whatever it takes to protect you.

“She’ll get hurt,” Namjoon points out.

“She’s the best spellcaster we know,” Jackson counters. “And Hoseok makes the best potions. You all have familiars too, and a formidable guild that will have our backs if anyone questions what we are.”

“He has a point, Namjoon,” Seokjin agrees, but in a way that lets Namjoon know that it’s his call. Whatever he decides, Seokjin will support him.

“Jin, last time I… Last time…”

“It’ll be different this time,” he assures him with a small but confident smile. “You’ll have us.”

“What do you say, Namjoon?” Jackson asks, pouring both of them another glass.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. He looks over at you again: your pretty smile and the way it reaches your eyes, how the sound of your laughter reminds Namjoon of how precious you are to him, and the endeared look from those around you as how affectionate you are when you’re tipsy.

It feels like old times, as Namjoon admires you from afar.

He knows you. Even if he had no connection to the village, you’d still want to help. Because that’s the kind of person you are. Namjoon is the same way.

But things have changed. Namjoon has changed.

Before, he would stop at nothing to return to his village and see his parents again. Before, he would take on this mission in a heartbeat, no matter what the risks are. But now, doubt starts to fill his mind.

This could be dangerous. Impossible, even.

But this is his home. His family might still be there. He has to try. Right?

“Okay,” he decides as he takes the glass Jackson pours him. The sudden burden in his heart makes it harder to swallow this time.

Namjoon can’t sleep.

He lies back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind restlessly jumps back and forth between a few things.

First, his hometown. What will it be like, stepping into that place for the first time in years? How much has changed? Would anyone recognize him? Are his parents still there? Are they doing well?

Then, there’s the necromancer. He knows very little about necromancy, and he doubts that you and Hoseok know more than he does about it. Where did they come from? What is their goal? What do they want with his hometown? Would he and the others be able to face them? Or are they dealing with something far too dark and dangerous?

Then, of course, there’s you and the others. He knows you’ve braved dangers before: in your Harrowing, the night Blackstone Castle fell, and even recently when you’ve helped Seokjin against his former guild. He knows you and the others are perfectly capable and skilled individuals, and as a team, you’d be an unstoppable force.

But Namjoon still worries. His mind starts to think about the worst. What if something goes wrong? What if you get hurt? He’ll have no one to blame but himself. Maybe this is too risky. Maybe he should tell Jackson and Seokjin he’s changed his mind.

The door to his room slowly opens. “Joon?”

Startled, he shoots up and faces the door. His heart calms a bit when he sees that it’s you. “What is it, baby?”

You shut the door behind you.

It’s just you and Namjoon. Like old times.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you tell him, sobered up after drinking earlier. Even in your drunken stupor, you can tell something has been bothering him. Your voice is a gentle whisper, calm and comforting. It’s a stark difference to the whirlwind of thoughts storming in his head.

He reaches out to you as you step closer, until you’re right in front of him.

When he dreams of you, he always wakes up just when he has you in his grasp. Just when you’re his to hold. As your fingers delicately wrap around his, he’s almost afraid he’d wake up and you’d be gone again.

“I could be better,” he replies to you honestly. His gaze is still on your hand as his thumb brushes against the top of your knuckles. “I have a lot in my mind.”

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He meant to ask you to stay. To let him hold you for tonight, and keep the fears of potentially losing you at bay as you fall asleep in his arms.

“I love you.”

The words that fall from his lips instead surprises both of you. He sees your eyes widen, the way you catch your breath, the uncertainty on your face, as if you aren’t sure if you heard him right.

But his hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer.

Namjoon loves you. Truly, he does. He sees you in his dreams all the time.

Everything he loves. Everything he’s afraid to lose.

You’re on his bed now, your eyes falling on his broad shoulders and his bare chest. There’s a look in your eyes that he’s become all too familiar with.

He doesn’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly, you’re all over each other. He kisses you with everything he’s got, meeting your lips and tongue with his, as if tonight could be his last time to hold you, to make you his. He grunts when he feels you gently tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. And you whimper when his hand yanks the white fabric of your nightdress, thumb brushing against your nipple.

The second you’re out of your torn clothes, his mouth latches onto your other breast, tongue flicking the hardened bud. “F-Fuck, Joon.”

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?”

Your breath hitches as his fingers slowly trail down your abdomen and slot between your legs. You close your eyes, rolling your hips slightly as his long fingers slip past your wet folds. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Namjoon praises, his voice so deep and low, it makes you shiver. “Come here. Wanna taste you.”

You obey, following his lead as he lies back on the bed again and makes himself situated. He guides you over him, and you’re careful of your weight on him as he holds your waist and thighs and eats you out.

He feels your muscles tensing and your hips bucking as the pleasure builds. But he keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from squirming away as he works you open with his tongue. Your grip tightens around the headboard and your other hand tugs on his hair as his thumb rubs against your clit. “J-Joon, I’m s-so—”

Even without your warning, he knows. He gets you there, drinking you in, reaping his spoils as you start to come down from your high.

But it isn’t over.

Once his grip around you loosens, you turn over. Namjoon props himself up slightly, watching what you’re doing and groaning when he feels your hands and mouth on his cock. His fingers easily tease your entrance before slipping into you again, stretching you out, feeling you clench around them, before he decides to pull your hips closer for another taste.

It starts to feel like a competition. Like you’re trying to get him off first before he makes you climax a second time.

But Namjoon knows your body well, and you feel his tongue and fingers prodding, teasing, and hitting your sweet spot mercilessly. Your muffled moans with your mouth against him are driving him insane, and he barely edges you out – your legs quivering slightly from the intense pleasure – before he shoots his release in your throat.

Namjoon catches his breath as you roll onto your back, breathing just as hard as he is. He sits up to look at you, his mouth and chest wet with your arousal, and as you peer up at him with lust-filled eyes, he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

More than what he deserves.

He caresses your thigh and smiles gently. “Tired?”

You scoff, breathless, but stubborn. As if admitting that you are means defeat. “I’m just getting started.”

Namjoon chuckles and then grabs your leg, pulling you closer. He aligns himself to enter you, moving slowly so you could adjust to his size. Your back arches slightly, face contorting at the pressure as your nails dig into his arms. You feel so good to him, he could never get enough of you.

He leans over to kiss you once he’s fully inside of you. “That’s my girl.”

“I’ll always be your girl,” you tell him softly, kissing his cheek.

Namjoon laughs, almost bashful with the way his heart flutters at that moment. You smile back at him, wrapping your arm around his neck as he begins to move.

His lips are on your throat, hands squeezing your breast and hips, whispered curses and grunts against your skin. It feels like wildfire every time. Heated, passionate, all consuming, like every touch and kiss sears his skin. Like every little moan and whine he hears from you compels him to make that fire grow. Then, only in the afterglow, he realizes it’s not the embers and ashes that remain. It’s warmth that fills his chest when he’s around you. It’s light that makes his heart glow with love. And he wants nothing more but to bask in it.

When he dreams, it’s always of you. Seductive, enticing, and tempting. But nothing compares to the real thing. Not even close.

Namjoon’s fingers absently trace patterns along your bare back. Your labored breaths have calmed down, slowly and evenly. Your lashes touch the top of your cheeks as you rest your eyes, and your tongue darts briefly to wet your pretty lips. 

He can’t stop looking at you.

“You always do this,” you comment softly without opening your eyes.

His hand stills. “Do what?”

“You always watch over me,” you answer, opening one eye to peek at him. There’s a small, playful smile on our lips. “Even when we first started seeing each other, you always look at me so endearingly.”

Namjoon laughs, a bit embarrassed. He never thought you’d notice the tender, forlorn look on his face after spending a night together. “Stay with me tonight?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re falling in love with me, Kim Namjoon.”

He smiles at that, dimples appearing deep in his cheeks. “I already love you, baby.”

You snuggle a little closer to him, the teasing in your voice replaced with sincerity as you tell him, “I love you too.”

It isn’t often that you two say those words to each other, but it still makes him catch his breath every time you do. His arm wraps around you protectively as he kisses your hairline, and he sighs happily as you tuck yourself under his chin.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs quietly, closing his eyes. It feels nice to have you in his arms. It feels nice to have you so close. He feels like he can relax like this.

Then, you ask, “What did Jackson say to you?”

His eyes snap open, and he sees the concern on your face. You hold his gaze, curious, but also as if you’re not certain if you want to push for the answers.

“He showed me a quest, and asked if we can help him,” he explains, his grip tightening around you a little. “It’s in my hometown.”

You’re quiet as Namjoon tells you everything. From all the details pertaining to the mission to Jackson heavily implying he won’t be able to do it without you. If there really is a necromancer terrorizing the village, you have the best chance of stopping them. Your skill at spell-casting is unmatched compared to the others.

Part of him hopes you’d refuse it – that you’d realize the odds are against you with this type of Wicked magic, and how stupid and dangerous this could be.

But he knows you won’t.

You know that Namjoon couldn’t pass up on it. This mission is too important to him. He could lose his parents and his hometown for good.

And Namjoon knows, if nothing else, you’d want to do it for him. You’d do anything for him. He’d do the same for you.

When he’s done, he feels you wrap your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “It’s okay, Namjoon. I know you want to help. I’ll do my best to keep your village safe, too.”

Namjoon frowns. His heart doesn’t feel any lighter as he holds you close. He feels so vulnerable as he softly confesses, “I’m afraid to lose you.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not an easy person to take down,” you quip confidently. You push yourself up to look at him, and your hand cups his face. Your thumb gently wipes away the frown on his lips. “I can handle myself, Joon. You know I can.”

Namjoon wants to believe you. But his heart still feels heavy with worry.

The next morning, Namjoon gathers the residents of the shop and tells them the news. As expected, there’s a mixed reaction.

“A necromancer?” Yoongi repeats, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Sounds fun!” Taehyung exclaims, eyes brightening with the promise of adventure.

“Sounds dangerous,” Hoseok corrects with a frown and crosses his arms. “We don’t really know anything about dark magic or necromancy. How would we know what we’re truly up against?”

“We won’t know until we try,” you reason, glancing over at Namjoon. “As far as we know, there’s only one necromancer, and there are several of us. The people in that village need our help, and we might be their last hope.”

“If we’re not already too late,” Hoseok grimly states.

Taehyung suddenly stands. “What are we waiting for? We need to start packing now!”

“Taehyung, calm down. We should think this through first,” Yoongi points out, but the raven familiar is already taking flight. He transforms into a raven and goes straight to his loft above the library nook.

“I’ll need to start brewing some potions and antidotes,” Hoseok mutters, also standing and walking straight to the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Do you think we can stop by the market for ingredients?”

“Can we get snacks too?” Jungkook timidly asks.

You laugh and rub his back. “We can’t have you hungry on our trip.”

“I’ll talk to the others and tell them about the quest.” Seokjin informs, heading upstairs to change out of his pajamas.

“Then, I’ll wake up Jimin. He’s still sleeping in the spare room,” you tell the ones left in the parlor. You glance over at Yoongi, who is already standing up to follow you. “Wanna help me bother him, Yoongi?”

He nods his head, a twitch of a smile on the corner of his lip, as he walks with you up the stairs.

That just leaves Namjoon and Jungkook. The mage sighs and runs his hand through his hair. Everyone took the news better than he thought.

Your party will consist of Jackson, the Oathkeepers, and the shop’s residents. There’s safety in numbers when traveling in such a large group. All of you are diligently preparing to face whatever dangers the roads and this necromancer can throw at you. And Namjoon is certain that you’ll all look out for each other, as you always do.

The only glaring thing is the necromancer. Hoseok is right when he said none of you know what you’re going to be up against. And that makes Namjoon nervous.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asks when he sees Namjoon start to head to the other side of the parlor.

“I’m going to see if the library will have anything about necromancy,” he answers, though he doubts he’ll find anything useful. Even his magical nook of books might not hold what he’s seeking for. “We’ve never had to deal with this kind of magic before. I want us to be prepared.”

More importantly, he needs to know how he can protect you. It’s inevitable that you’ll have to face a powerful mage that controls the dead, but if he can find something – anything – to give you an upper-hand…

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment. His dark eyes stare at Namjoon in an almost penetrating gaze that starts to make him nervous. Then, quietly, he mentions, “You have to take their bells.”

“What?”

“They use bells to summon the dead and have them do their bidding,” he explains, just when he hears Hoseok calling for him in the kitchen. “Take their bells, and they can’t control the dead.”

With that said, he stands and heads to the kitchen, leaving Namjoon to stare after him. 

He knows that Jungkook was previously with a mage that specializes in dark magic. He also knows that Jungkook doesn't talk much about that part of his past, if at all.

But as Jungkook disappears from the parlor, Namjoon can’t help but wonder if he knows more about dark magic than he lets on.

At dawn, you and the other shop residents meet up with Jackson and the Oathkeepers. It’s a long way to Namjoon’s hometown in Hawthorn Village, and Jimin agreed to keep an eye on the shop until you return.

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you this time.” Jimin holds you and peppers kisses all over your face. He wishes he could, but he has his own duties tying him to New Haven this time. “Take care and come home soon, okay?”

“I’ll miss you,” you reply sincerely, wishing he could come as well. Due to the nature of this quest, however, you couldn’t tell him the real reason you’re leaving town.

Instead, you simply tell him that you’re all visiting Namjoon’s family, and that Seokjin and his friends are escorting you all there while they have a job nearby.

It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the truth either.

Taehyung and Jungkook are excited about going on a real adventure this time. They both look eager to get started, rucksacks on their backs and anticipation in their eyes. It doesn’t matter to either of them what they’re facing, as going on a quest with their hyungs sounds more fun than anything.

Hoseok looks like he’s seconds away from a mental breakdown. He’s constantly checking and rechecking that you guys have everything you’ll need for this adventure. His wand is ready, tucked within reach. His rucksack is full of potions and ingredients. He checks with Yoongi to make sure they aren’t forgetting anything, and Yoongi shrugs and drawls that if it’s something they’ve forgotten, it probably wasn’t that important to bring along anyway.

Namjoon and Jackson stand apart from the others, seeming to be in a deep discussion about something. Since Jackson requested his help, Namjoon has been nervous about returning to Hawthorn Village, even if he tries not to show it. You often feel his worried gaze on you when he thinks you don’t notice.

Seokjin is with his friends, going over the map and figuring out the best routes to take. You see a side of Seokjin where he’s more serious than you’re used to, and perhaps on the surface, this is just another quest for him. But when you see him glance over at Namjoon, you know he’s in it for the same reason you all are.

You’re doing this for Namjoon.

Your heart feels conflicted when you catch Jimin staring at the others. It’s hard to keep things hidden from him – to keep him in the dark about everything – and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that you aren’t being completely honest with him. That you’re leaving him behind with purpose, and that you’re shutting him out from such an important part of yourself. 

Maybe he doesn’t even believe your half-truth about simply visiting Namjoon’s family.

You wish you could tell him. You wish you could confide about your own worries about the mission. You wish you could’ve told him stories about Blackstone Castle when you had introduced him to Jackson.

Jimin turns his attention to you, and his eyes lingers on your face, seeing past the neutral mask you’re trying to keep on. “Is everything okay?”

You wish you could tell him the truth about you.

“There’s something I should tell you, Jimin…”

At that moment, Namjoon calls out to you. He has your pack over his shoulder, and a sheepish smile on his face when he realizes he’s interrupting you and Jimin. “We need to get going.”

“What did you want to tell me?” Jimin asks, curious now.

There’s so much you want to say. One day, you’ll tell him about how you and the others aren’t ordinary humans, that the building you all live in isn’t an ordinary shop.

But that day isn’t today.

“I’ll tell you when I come back,” you decide, touching his cheek. You kiss his lips and murmur, “I love you.”

A small, sad smile tugs on his lips before he kisses you again. “I’ll miss you.”

Reluctantly, you part ways with him and join the others. There is a lot of ground to cover between New Haven and Hawthorn Village, and each passing night will just make things harder for the surviving villagers.

“Ready to go?” Seokjin asks, looking at everyone. A unanimous sound of agreement is answered back. The party gathers into the horse-drawn wagons, and thus, the journey officially begins.

Your hand reaches for Yoongi’s – who automatically intertwines his fingers with yours – and you look over at Jimin one more time. He leans against a fence, watching as Yoongi helps you get onboard. When he sees you looking at him, he straightens up and mouths to come home soon before he waves goodbye.

“What were you and Jimin talking about?” Yoongi asks you, still holding your hand.

“I think I’m going to tell him about what I am,” you confess, a little nervous of what he might say. That he might convince you that this is a bad idea.

“You should,” Namjoon agrees, sitting on your other side. He rests his arm behind you, squeezing in so that everyone can fit. “It’s about time he knows about all of us, no?”

Yoongi glances at you with uncertainty, but mumbles, “If that’s what you want.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders as you smile. “Yeah, it’s been hard to keep things hidden from him all the time, you know?”

Namjoon nods and then, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you, he slowly asks, “Was it hard to keep us a secret? Back when we were at the castle?”

“A little,” you admit just as quietly. “Hoseok already knew. He said we were too obvious. My roommates were starting to get suspicious too, and I’m sure Jackson and our other friends would’ve figured out something was going on between us. I think it would’ve all come out eventually.”

“Would you have been mad if it did?”

“Not at all. It would’ve made things less confusing for me if we had been honest with each other from the start.”

In hindsight, neither of you had anything to hide. You both liked each other a lot, and even then, none of the guys were put off with the idea of sharing you. But magic comes with so much secrecy, it seemed natural to keep things hidden. To expect that your enamored feelings won’t be accepted because love is taboo for mages.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, frowning at the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m not blaming you, Joon,” you assure him, using your free hand to touch his cheek. “What matters is where we are now. Not all the things we could’ve changed.”

His lips quirks into a small grin as he takes in your words. “You’re right.”

The two of you share a brief kiss as the horses continue to pull the wagon you’re all on. It’ll take you as far as the roads will lead, but there’s a shortcut through the forest that will cut your traveling in half. That route, however, will have to be on foot.

Conversations between the others overlap as the excitement of the journey is still high. But to your surprise, you see one person is quiet and lost in his thoughts.

Jackson doesn’t say a word during the whole ride.

Traveling down the familiar roads that lead to his hometown in Hawthorn Village brings Namjoon back to unpleasant memories.

He remembers the terror the night promises, as if it’s still fresh in his mind. The low, warning growl of predators and their glowing eyes in the shadows. The way his body shivers from the cold, and how his feet ache from walking. The exhaustion that tolls his small body, but he can’t afford to stop and rest or the wardens will catch up to him, as they always seem to do.

It felt like a hopeless task then. But Namjoon was stubborn. 

He wanted to return home no matter what.

And now, years later, he finally will.

Seokjin is right about how things are different this time. Now, he has all of you beside him, instead of having to trek these roads alone. And that makes Namjoon worry.

“Watch out,” Namjoon warns, pulling you away from a green plant growing along the trunk of a tree. “Those plants are poisonous.”

“He’s right,” Hoseok agrees, examining them a little closer. You would’ve had an awful, itchy rash if you had accidentally touched them. He rummages through his pack and happily adds, “Luckily, I have an ointment for this kind of thing!”

“Careful, baby,” Namjoon says with caution a little later on. He holds onto you as he helps you down a slippery slope. “You might fall.”

Nearby, Jungkook is giggling when he sees Seokjin slip on the mud, staining his clothes with the wet dirt.

“Yah, Jungkook!” Seokjin snaps as he grabs the younger male by the ankle and drags him into the mud with him.

All day, Namjoon has been overly protective of you. Whether it’s a branch of a tree that’s hanging too low and blocking your path, a hole on the ground that you could easily trip over, or a mama bear and her cubs just passing through, Namjoon is there to guard you. Even if it means hurting himself.

“Joon, you don’t need to be so worried about me,” you assure him, sitting him down on a log and examining the cut on his arm. It’s bleeding, but it doesn’t look too deep.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Namjoon answers, wincing as you apply a bit of healing magic on the wound. Warmth spreads from your fingertips as it starts to close.

“I’m not the one with the cut,” you counter, gesturing at his arm. Thankfully, it just looks like a scratch now.

Being on the road isn’t too bad. After getting dropped off at the starting point of the forest, the excited chatter between you and the others lasts a good while, making the morale stay up. You all take breaks when you need to, make sure food and water is passed around, and keep an eye out for bandits, wild animals, and other dangers like low branches, poisonous plants, and pit holes.

After a while, the conversations die down to a mutual, tired silence. Everyone’s paces slow down significantly, and the breaks become more and more frequent. Jungkook quietly mentions that he’s getting hungry – the small snacks between stops aren’t enough for a meal – and Namjoon is certain he isn’t the only one.

No one protests when Namjoon suggests making camp at a clearing he finds. There’s unanimous relief as everyone begins to pitch their tents, make a campfire, and gather resources and ingredients to make supper.

Which leads to you and Namjoon, sitting together as you check the wound he gave himself when trying to protect you. He sighs and thanks you for treating him, barely feeling the sting of pain anymore. Part of him expects you to leave, but you still sit with him, watching as some of the guys play rock-paper-scissors to decide the order of night shifts.

Although you don’t admit it, you’ve been worrying about Namjoon too.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you can handle yourself. It’s just…” Namjoon begins, rubbing his neck. “After everything that happened in Blackstone, I’m afraid to lose you. To lose everything again. Even now, I’m worried that you guys are putting your lives in danger because of me.”

“We’re here because we want to be, Namjoon,” you tell him with a small smile. “If it was Seokjin’s hometown under attack, or Jungkook’s, or anyone else’s at the shop, I know you’d want to do all you can to help too.”

“You’re right,” he says with another sigh. Maybe he’s worrying over nothing.

Your smile widens as you nudge him. “Are you nervous about going home?”

He chuckles dryly. That, certainly, is an understatement.

“I don’t think I know what to expect anymore. It’s been so long…” He lets himself trail off as his gaze turns to everyone else in camp. Taehyung is demanding a rematch as Hoseok throws his fist in the air and shouts in victory. Their rowdiness catches the attention of the others, who grin a bit at them as they decide to do another round. “My parents might still be in Hawthorn. If we have the chance, I’d like to talk to them. Tell them I’m sorry for burning down our old house, and that I miss them.”

“You could,” you assure him, giving him a comforting smile. “I don’t think the others would mind since we’re already there.”

He smiles a bit at that. Then, his heart flutters nervously as he proposes, “Would you come with me? When I go see them, I mean.”

You look a bit surprised. “I could if you want me to.”

“I do,” he quickly replies, a bit flustered. “It would be easier, I think. If you’re by my side at the time.”

“Then, of course I will.”

His smile widens and relief lifts from his shoulders, grateful you’ll accompany him. “Do you think they’ll forgive me? After all these years? It wouldn’t be too weird if I just showed up, would it? What would I even say to them?”

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart stutter. “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t love you, Kim Namjoon.”

“Thank you,” he tells you softly, dimples popping at the shy grin. “For everything.”

Suddenly, the guys shout in disbelief and burst into laughter at the results of their game. You and Namjoon smile fondly at them. 

“I don’t remember where I was born,” you confide to Namjoon. “I don’t know who my parents are, or if I have family that knows about me. So, when Blackstone fell, I felt like I lost the only place I knew was home as well.”

“Oh…” Namjoon frowns. He never considered any of the fortresses a home. It always felt more like a prison. But perhaps, to mages like you and Hoseok, who’ve been locked away in those towers all your lives, it’s different.

“But you know,” you continue. “I can’t say I’d ever want to go back to it. If we hadn’t run away – if we hadn’t made it to the shop – we wouldn’t have met Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. Seokjin wouldn’t be happy as a warden. And I might’ve never even had the courage to tell you and Hoseok that I love you.”

“Really?”

“Blackstone was my home. It was the only world I’ve ever known,” you say, your eyes still fixed on the others before you. “But I don’t ever regret leaving that place behind to be where I am now. With you and the others.”

In his dreams, Namjoon sees you again.

Your hand is in his, leading him away from camp while the others are asleep. Taking him to a secluded place in the woods.

It’s just you and him. Like old times.

Your back is pressed against the trunk of a tree. A seductive smile touches your lips as you wrap your arm around his neck. You pull him in for a kiss, and his hands glide up your body in a lustful hunger. He hears you panting as his hand slips between your legs, your lip biting back a needy moan, and your flirty eyes glancing up at him beneath your lashes.

His trousers fall down to his ankles, and he lifts one of your legs. You lean against the side of the tree, shifting your weight against the trunk, and look over your shoulder at him with a tiny nod.

A whistle of an arrow flies toward him, but it hits you. Right in the heart.

The flirty gaze turns to a look of horror and accusation. This is his fault.

You slump on the ground, cold and unmoving. Hunters gather around, pointing their weapons at him. Wearing similar faces of anger, disgust, and terror like the villagers from his hometown the night of his awakening.

Among them are the rest of the guys: Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, and even Jimin. There’s disappointment and sadness in their eyes when they see your body. It turns to looks of hatred and distrust when they look at Namjoon.

It’s his fault you got hurt. It’s his fault things ended up like this.

Everything is his fault.

Namjoon feels so small again, like he’s a kid. Everyone gathers around him, wanting an explanation. Why is he born with magic? What wickedness has he done to be cursed with that power?

Your eyes are lifeless. Your skin is cold.

But with a distant twinkle of a bell, your head snaps toward him. Your jaw falls open too widely as an agonizing scream comes from your throat.

Namjoon wakes with a start.

Another dream about you, but this one is different. This one is a nightmare.

His heart races when he finds himself somewhere he doesn’t recognize. And it takes him a moment to place himself in a tent he’s sharing with you and the others.

Seokjin is at the far end, lying on his back with his face turned toward you. One arm is curled out beside him as his other hand rests on his stomach where Yoongi, in his cat form, has chosen to sleep. Hoseok has his arms wrapped around you and is curled up against your back. Taehyung has stolen his pillow, using it as a nest, as he tucks his head beneath his black feathers. Namjoon doesn’t see Jungkook right away, but he hears his low, steady croaks by his head, settled on the opposite end.

All of you are sleeping safe and sound, huddled together like a pile of puppies.

Namjoon smiles fondly at the sight, relieved to see that you’re unharmed. But the nightmare is still too fresh in his mind. Quietly, he decides to sneak out and get some fresh air.

A couple of the Oathkeepers and Jackson are keeping watch this time. His old friend looks surprised to see him, but doesn’t send him away when Namjoon takes a seat next to him by the fire.

“Aren’t you tired?” Jackson asks.

“I’ll go back in a bit,” he promises, frowning up at the sky. The night feels too long. Dawn doesn’t seem like it’ll break through soon.

For a while, the two sit together quietly by the campfire, lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Jackson asks, “Do you still think about that night? At Blackstone?”

The night of the rebellion. When Adriel summoned something Wicked from the depths of the Veil and made a contract with it. Power in exchange for his physical form.

“It’s not really Blackstone I think about,” Namjoon admits. The burdens he carries are longer and heavier than what happened the night you all escaped.

“I think about it all the time. Everything that went wrong. Everything that I could’ve done differently,” he sighs as he stares at the burning fire before him. “Adriel was my friend. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve realized what he was doing was wrong.”

“Adriel just wanted us to be free,” Namjoon reminds him. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting that.

“And look where that got us,” Jackson bitterly retorts. “Adriel is dead. Most of us have probably been recaptured and sent back to a fortress somewhere. The rest of us are on the run, hiding our magic so we don’t get caught.”

Namjoon frowns. Jackson has a point. Even outside the castle walls, freedom still has its limits. 

“None of us could’ve known what would’ve happened,” Namjoon reasons. “I don’t think Adriel even knew when he made contact with that Wicked.”

“But we could’ve done better!” Jackson snaps. There’s an anger in his eyes that Namjoon is all-too familiar with. A spiteful resentment that he, himself, has carried for years. “We were his friends. We could’ve checked up on him. We could’ve talked him out of doing something so goddamn dangerous. We could’ve saved him too.”

His voice shakes, eyes wild with accusation and guilt. You were all at the tower. You’ve all seen what Adriel had become. You’ve seen how Jackson desperately pleaded to his friend to recognize him, and how the Warden Commander ran a sword through Adriel when he did. It’s a scene that’s been haunting Jackson ever since he left the tower.

“Jackson…” he begins, but honestly, he isn’t sure what to say. Namjoon feels pity. He understands how Jackson feels. He’s been in his place, burdening shame and guilt over things he couldn’t control.

Namjoon is lucky to have you and the others to be there for him when the shadows of doubt and resentment become too much.

But Jackson… he doesn’t have anyone to rely on.

“What if that necromancer in Hawthorn is one of us?” Jackson asks, his gaze now steady at the fire again. “What if they’re someone from Blackstone? What if they’re just another Adriel that lost their way, and dipped into forbidden magic they’re no longer in control of?”

Namjoon hadn’t thought of that possibility. He always saw the necromancer as a vague, hooded figure in his mind. Someone that summons the dead and commands them to attack his hometown.

What if that person under the hood was a friend? An apprentice he had a class with? Someone he recognizes from the halls of Blackstone Castle?

“Then we stop them,” Namjoon answers, placing his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “And we try to do better this time.”

“I hope we can, Namjoon. I can’t have another mage fall like Adriel did.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[mrghostrat]

"He needed an internet connection so he could download an app to draw with, but the whole point of setting the thing up in London was because he knew Crowley understood all of this a whole lot better than he did."

Okayyyyy I just got violent flashbacks to the s2 finale this is evil 😭😭

But in all seriousness, I LOVED the new bnf au chapter, I mean the kiss??? I audibly gasped, it was soooo good

I was wondering if the witch and the witchfinder are a canon couple in the nice and accurate prophecies? Or are they just a very popular fanon ship? Or is it like good omens, where people saw the romantic subtext in the book and where it was made explicitly canon in the show?

I just think all options would be really interesting, given that Crowley and Aziraphale are both middle-aged queer people and the book came out thirty years ago. So they either would have had some representation back then, or they recognised themselves in the story and even though it wasn't canon, maybe those ideas would later explicitly be confirmed by Agnes Nutter nonetheless? Since all these options have really interesting implications for the way they both interacted with the source material, I'm really curious what your thoughts on the matter are.

Thank you so much for all the beautiful things you create for the fandom, both your fics and your art give me life and I'm so grateful for them ❤

omg you have no idea how excited i am about this question 😭 as i've written BNF, i've been quietly fleshing out more about their fictional fandom, and accidentally gotten reeeeally invested and am dying to talk about it 😭😭

i'm actually tempted to make some fanart of the witch & the witchfinder, using michael and david as facecasts to go full meta thphptftf. in b4 i write it as a fuckin book series for real

buttttt i'll put all my N&A thoughts under a cut so i dont ramble too long on your dashes 💛

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy: Agnes Nutter's book series (turned play, turned film, turned tv series); the fandom in my fic Big Name Feelings

the idea of using Agnes Nutter's "Nice and Accurate" book for the in-fic fandom was taken from @tawnyontumblr's fic New Messages (i just thought that would be a fun fanon consistency to follow), but all the details about the story and characters are me.

N&A takes inspiration from Good Omens (as a story, and as a fandom) but isn't intended to be a direct copy of it. the original paperback series is a few books long, and each adaptation of the books are considered good, accurate, canonical content. the tv show (a HBO series) is the most recent, highest quality, and most popular. The Witcher style, high fantasy quality.

agnes is loudly supportive of the lgbt community just like neil/david/michael are. but i imagine that for the series to be so "marketable" over the last 30 years, there isn't an explicit queer relationship between the witch & finder. there are canon queer side characters but the witch & finder are a little more nuanced.

the witch and the witchfinder aid each other through time, working together to defeat the evils in the story (like Aziraphale and Crowley from GO). there's tension between them, but boundless love, and plenty of flirtation, despite the running "we shouldn't, we're meant to be enemies" theme. they would canonically get together at some point in the story, probably towards the end after they've spent some time dancing around each other.

the thing that makes this vague is: the witch reincarnates through the story, almost doctor who style. they're a trans icon, much like how the GO fandom looks at Crowley and all his gender ambiguity.

when they finally tryst with the witchfinder, they're female. it's by pure happenstance that they're female presenting at that stage of the story, but still widely critiqued over the years. the thing that canonises the mlm relationship is that the witch is said to carry their consciousness through each reincarnation— they're not a new person like The Doctor is when he regenerates.

the start of the book series spends more time on "Crowley and Aziraphale's favourite male reincarnation", while the movie and tv show only briefly montages through some of the witch's faces. the mlm side of the fandom most definitely lost their minds over the brief few minutes of screentime that they got of the male witch, and has absolutely gifsetted it to death.

i've done it like this because so much of (every) fandom has always been seeking out representation and filling gaps where the original content lacks. there's something to be said about the solidarity of queer fans creating more queer content for themselves. except, in the case of N&A, they're getting to work from a source material that is genuinely queer supportive, unlike fandoms like SPN and BBC Sherlock that are fighting against the tide of queerbaiting and buried gays.

it also gives aziraphale and crowley a chance to band together in the next chapter when they talk to a dickhead at the party:

i haven't exactly decided what happens with the witchfinder, like if the story takes place over hundreds of years and he keeps reincarnating as the same lookin dude (like how jack whitehall plays both Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery and Newton Pulsifer) or if it's set over one lifetime and the witch just gets killed and regenerates a lot. i do like the idea of there being some "through the ages" shenanigans, and a canonical "modern day" setting like GO has.

but i gotta be careful bc i genuinely can't stop thinking about this fake story that's barely mentioned in my fan fic or i'll end up writing the damn thing myself

[mochilatae]

stepbro jungkook coming around to be a menace again

Don't Tell (Jungkook x Fem Reader)

Word Count: 4.41k(ish)

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/n(Fem Reader)

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected sex, kissing (french and other), public sex, making out,mentions of /kinks for tattoos and piercing, teasing, grinding, slow dancing, taboo dynamics (step bro/sis), orgasms (yours and his), creampie, rough/intense sex, step bro/step sis forbidden stuff, dirty talk, praise, wall fucking, sucking (neck and lips), implied secret crush on you behavior, watching/creeping/spying stuff. Probably missed something but oh well.

Genre: PwP

AUs: Step Brother BTS/Step brother Jungkook

Summary: Your stepbrother is a brat. You barely get along but that doesn't mean you like when he shows up on a girl's night out to give you a hard time at a club. A little step sibling ribbing and rivalry goes further than anticipated.

Author’s Note: Purely an excuse to write kinky step bro smut. I liked the idea of step bro Jungkook being a menace/brat and got this suggestion from Anon (thank you and I hope you enjoy it). It's been a minute since I've caved and wrote something just flat out horny/smutty that reaches into Taboo realms.

Ignore the typos and all other oddities.

Enjoy if it's your kind of thing and you're a Jungkook stan. I enjoyed it.

Thank you for reading. If you like it and want to tell me, I'd love to hear it. Reblogging is not required but always appreciated.

Tag List: @kiestrokes @worldwideseal

It didn’t matter how long he’d been watching you. What mattered was that he finally spoke. 

“This is cute… Y/n and her friends, having a girl’s night.” 

You’d only just swallowed down your second shot when the haughty tone came from over your right shoulder. Turning revealed an equally gleeful smirk on familiar, lush lips. 

“Jungkook.” It was all you said–more sighing it and not hiding the way your eyes rolled. You and he had never hidden much from each other–especially not when your dad had married his mom and you’d become unwilling step siblings. 

He wasn’t getting less annoying as the years went by. What was previously an uneasy truce was rapidly crumbling to a simmering antagonism under the guise of sibling rivalry. Not that Jungkook was better than you. He was almost your polar opposite. As far as it went you weren’t sure what your father saw in him that they got on so well. 

Right now all you could see was the glint of his lip piercing and those eyes, shining as he leveled his best smug glare at you. And right now you wished you’d taken the offer for a 3rd shot. Especially with this little brat standing nearly chest to chest. 

“There’s a ton of space around here. You don’t have to stand so close.” You offered a milquetoast smile, forcing your gaze away enough to push his lithe form to the peripherals of your vision. There was PLENTY more to look at, even if it was all in the form of gyrating bodies on the dancefloor nearby. 

“Maybe.” Jungkook looked around, face going from smug to vaguely disinterested. Eventually his eyes were back on you—that much was clear in the edge of your vision. It didn’t quite make your skin crawl but a prickle was working its way up your arms. 

He just HAD to find a way to ruin a really nice night. But that was what siblings were prone to doing. 

Jungkook snorted. You knew the sound–the light raised lip. The sneaking view of teeth and one corner of his mouth crooked. No need to look. If you did it would only serve to bother YOU more. Per the usual standard, he seemed absolutely unbothered. 

“Interesting choice to hang with the girls, Y/n.” A loaded statement that you could see the trap buried deep inside. You shrugged, opting to ignore it for now. This was public and not the dinner table at home, or shoulder to shoulder with him at the kitchen sink after dinner, scrubbing up the dishes while you both sniped each other with backhanded teasing. 

“It’s ladies night.” You replied. Another sound–this one a chuckle–and Jungkook reached around you, snatching a waiting drink. You’d paid for it but he wasn’t going to make good on compensation. Still you swallowed hard watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his adams apple as almost all of the glass contents disappeared down his throat. After the glass was back exactly where it’d been on the table, Jungkook turned his focus on you again. 

“I was wondering. There’s a lot of people here.” His observation was dry and plain. Maybe in another time and space you would find Jungkook as hot as he acted like everyone found him, but right now you just wanted to dump the remains of that drink on his head and make him leave. 

But you didn’t own the club. It was a free country. The best bet might be to leave. 

“By all means..” You began,head tilting towards the front of the club and the exit doors. Jungkook’s rising brow and scoff told you he’d picked up the hint and dropped it again just as quickly.

“You’re a real peach, Y/n. What’s with the hostility? We’re not enemies.” 

“We’re not friends either. We’re—”

“Family.” He finished, earning your glare. It was so hot you’d hoped he could feel it boring right through his skull. But as usual Jungkook ignored your reaction. 

“We’re NEVER going to be family.” You shot back. “It’s bad enough that my dad remarried. I’m coping.”

“My mom makes him happy. Don’t be selfish by making it about you. Everyone else gets along.” 

“How fortunate for them.” You sniffed and pushed the empty shot glass towards the small gathering of glasses left by your friends. Friends who’d disappeared in various directions. You were due to join most of them on the dancefloor in a minute and that was some hopeful escape. 

Without missing a beat Jungkook moved on and pointed at the dancefloor. 

“Yes..” You sighed. “What about it?”

“You here to drink and watch people have fun or do you dance?” 

“You’re a real prick, Koo.” You gritted out, stepping away from the table. It wasn’t worth calling Jungkook out as he moved too, keeping you within reach. It was odd but not surprising at the same time. He was annoyingly close at home too. 

“You’re such a sweet step sister. Answer the question.” 

Your eyes rolled, head turning his way. Hopefully he saw it. Based on the even line of his lips, if he did he couldn’t care less. Jungkook had a phenomenal poker face.

“About what? …The dancing?” 

“Yes.” His lids fluttered in faint annoyance but it disappeared under the club lights painting his face with a rainbow of colors. 

“I can dance. As a matter of fact if you’ll excuse me—” You stepped away, going towards the dancefloor edge, where an opening was available. It was a palpable heat the closer every footstep took you towards the rabble.  

And as usual Jungkook was riding your ass the whole way, but it was..whatever, thanks to the helping hum of the shot flowing through your system. The club lights swirled and slowed perceptibly as the first hints of alcohol reached your brain. A gauzy sensation slid over your senses. Annoyance ebbed away by degrees. 

Instead you swayed back a little, feeling the bass flowing over you, pulsing. Riding your skin as your attention went out to those heads and the shadowy hands raised, waving and gesturing in time with the beat. 

“Get your ass out there, Y/n. Or are you afraid?” Again Jungkook’s voice came from over your shoulder as he spoke right to your earlobe.

Run your mouth some more, Jungkook. Watch me get a first tonight: kicked out for fighting in a club. Screw best behavior–I’ll blame the alcohol.

Your shoulders squared. Tossing your hair back, you slipped between the bodies without a backwards look. It didn’t matter if Jungkook followed you over the line, into the dark heat of the dancefloor. He could hang out in the corner all night or he could fuck off back home. You were going to dance for YOU, not to prove anything to him.

You’d barely stopped at a big enough space near the wall and one of the floor to ceiling speakers by the DJ booth and turned to face the way you’d come. No sign of Jungkook and if he was following he’d have a challenge: the bodies closed up the path you’d used as the dancing went on. 

You couldn’t help smiling and letting the sensation of the booming bass rattle inside your chest. Soon it had your hips moving and your body was doing what it did in your bedroom alone, stereo up and lights dimmed. Your spine undulated as your entire body got into the motion. 

Soon the shifting of your hips had your center tingling. You loved the music and the feeling of the throbbing heat closing in all around. It would probably have you sweating soon enough but that was what the pulled back hair and short, strapless club dress was all about. 

You’d chosen wisely tonight, grateful for the easy movement of your bare arms and shoulders. The flexing in your thighs unburdened by the hem at mid thigh. The dress material was flexible. Forgiving. Light and fitted. 

You felt good. You moved even better, head lolling back as you turned your body slowly, eyes closed. It was you feeling the music. Running fingers through your hair and humming, even if you could only feel it in your throat, not hearing a single note over the music flooding your ears. 

You’d find your friends later–right now this was your song and you needed to enjoy it for a while. 

What you hadn’t seen right away was what you finally caught when your eyes opened and you ended up facing the way you’d come before. This time the crowd had parted again–just enough a figure slipped through. 

You knew that shaggy head of hair and the tangle of bangs. The glint of silver in the lip. The tattoo, running from wrist up around the bicep to disappear under the sleeve of the black t-shirt. 

Jungkook.

Like a fucking lost puppy. But that wasn’t what you saw in those eyes. They weren’t shining with amusement or pity. It was something more…raw. Something visceral. A strong feeling rose in your belly as your hips stalled for a moment. 

Head cocked, he came closer as you grunted and turned your back. The LEAST he could do was leave you alone. There were plenty of women here and he was a single man–so far as you knew. And as far as his mom believed, an angel. 

The pressure of fingers tips running the back of your arm had fresh prickles climbing your skin. Your lips parted. He didn’t seem to hear the curse you spat with a half backward glance over one shoulder. 

Yes, his profile was right there. Right fucking there. AS USUAL. But the heat wasn’t cloying anymore. It was all slowly gathering somewhere low and tight. Somewhere under that dress hem. Your thigh muscles seized. Jungkook’s fingers curved over one hip and tugged, guiding your ass back into his hips.

One thing about Jungkook: he could move his body. He was athletic enough. Varsity something. Too many varsity “somethings” in high school and college– as you were privy to hear about at dinner too often. 

Breath caressed your shoulder. Lips brushed as he giggled. This close you didn’t need to shout and neither did Jungkook. So you heard him loud and clear.

“What’s this? Y/n does dance. Is this what you do in your room with the door closed?” 

“Go away.” You growled but didn’t pull back. Jungkook’s slow body rolling didn’t change pace or intensity, staying on beat. It kept you there as well. 

“Not a denial. I’m not leaving, sis.” 

“Don’t call me that.” The point of your elbow jammed into his belly only served to tighten muscle that was already visible the times you’d caught him running around outside with his shirt off. Or around the house–more often these days. No amount of teasing made him self conscious enough to add a layer. 

“Hmmm.. I’m sorry.” He hummed, cloying breath going right up your nape. He followed it to pause behind your ear.

“What do you want me to call you?” 

“Y/n. That’s my name. You didn’t forget that.” 

“No. There’s a lot about you I can’t forget.” 

“Creep..” You breathed as warmth feathered your lobe, then lips touched. Pecked. When teeth trapped and tugged you winced and shuddered. When your hand shot up towards his head, Jungkook’s quick reflexes caught your wrist and he guided it behind to rest at the small of your back. A few long fingers circled around the bone guaranteed you’d be hard pressed to try again. 

“I’m faster. What were you going to do, pull my hair? Not very nice of you..” 

Your chest tightened but the pounding was getting louder. Jungkook’s other palm slid up from your hip to just under your navel and pressed there. Both of you had stopped moving except for the barest sway left and right. You’d long since lost the beat. The music was a distant sound. A cover, like the sweeping club lights well overhead, none of it reaching further than your shoulders. 

Any onlooker would only see Jungkook whispering. Not exactly a sight out of the ordinary for a club at this hour. If they didn’t know the relationship between you, they’d just assume it was two people feeling the music and falling into a mood together, soon to escape and do the thing most club night hookups ended in. 

Which was the last thing that should happen with you and Jungkook. 

You licked your lips and tried to speak. “Koo—”

“Hmmm.”

It was more affirmation fueling the option your lizard brain had turned him into. An objection was desperately trying to escape to bring sense to you both.

Fingertips curled against your skin. Although your skin was warm under the dress material his touch was even warmer as he added pressure.

“What are you doing?” You finally gasped, choking on any further words as his palm descended. His touch crept lower, wandering between your thighs and they shivered then clamped tight. Your head snapped to one side, tilted sharp. “..N…No..” 

“So why aren’t you fighting me? Why do you feel so…hot? Isn’t THIS what happens in a club?” 

Breath huffed in tempo as Jungkook chuckled louder. His teeth gripped a bit of skin near your jugular and let it slip free, then he sucked the spot until a wet ring remained. 

He wasn’t far off. You’d done this plenty of times with handsome strangers whose acquaintance was hours old…or sometimes less. That was completely different—who Jungkook was created a huge problem being anything BUT a stranger. 

Cognitive dissonance built in the form of pressure behind your eyes and at the back of your head. But it wasn’t enough to make you pull away. And Jungkook pulled you even closer. The thick heat curved along your ass was familiar. And all your insides knew were that they needed to be stuffed deep. 

The name that came with it was a piddling detail. It wasn’t illegal. Morality and ethics aside. 

“We’re siblings.” 

“Anyone here know that?”

“Are you…serious?” You whined but your body just wasn’t cooperating. The fact was: Jungkook was just as sexy and good looking as every other man here, past or present. 

And right now his arm looped your waist as he backed you both through the crowd, taking the brunt of collision as he bullied you both whatever direction only he knew. Eventually the backward traveling came to a stop and the club swirled into a blur of color and light until you found a wall against your back. 

Then found Jungkook’s eyes gazing from below as he took one knee. His fingers touched your knees and climbed, taking the dress hem with it until he’d bunched it at your hips. His head bowed as he kissed the inside of one thigh, then turned his profile and nuzzled the other side. 

You swallowed down a moan and your fingers dashed through his hair, snarling and grasping. Whether it was to pull him away or closer, that wasn’t clear. Right now you were just holding on for the ride. He exhaled over the center of your panties with a groan, then buried his nose and mouth there, inhaling. His shoulders shifted as the vibration of his moan moved through your sex. 

“Koo…we’re—” 

“Shhh.” A pinching bite cut your objection off neatly. The seam of your panties shifted as he tucked most of it to one side and traced the back of a nail along your folds. It might have been the height of scandal since Jungkook knew you–until now in unassuming and mundane ways–but it was hard to think straight and do the reasonable thing. 

Instead your body followed Jungkook’s movement, pulled towards him with the magnetic energy that kept you from separating yourself and walking away. You SHOULD find your friends. You SHOULD be with them, shaking your ass and singing as you all sweated and lived your best night. 

Instead you were here as Jungkook stood again and cupped the back of your neck. He paused, lips a hair’s breadth from your own. His eyes seemed so deep and full of fire–like he saw nothing wrong with this. Like you were the hottest girl here and he wanted to devour you. 

“What are we doing, Y/n? We’re just two people.. Don’t you like it?”

“Yes..” You whined, chasing his tongue when it snuck out and followed your lower lip. His nails sunk into your nape and he tugged your mouth close, fitting his lips perfectly. The kiss was shy for a moment then you melted against the wall and Jungkook sank into you. 

He was exactly as hard as you’d felt on your ass minutes ago, but this time he slowly rocked himself against your exposed mound. And it worked: your left foot left the floor and that knee bent. He caught the back of that knee and wrapped it over his hip. 

The front of his jeans were open so fast you didn’t know when he had the time or focus while he kissed you in a way that had the world blown away–like it was you and him. In a hallway somewhere–the hallway in your house, by the front door, in the dark. Trying to keep quiet so no one in the house would wake up, come down with questions and leave with shock. 

Jungkook had you feeling totally bereft of clothes and it was a brand new experience, this raw intensity. A free hand dug deep down the front of his pants. Your grip tightened on his forearm, distracted to find the thick lines of muscle there. His heat and scent curled under your nose as he broke another kiss and gulped down a mouthful of club air. 

“Then don’t ask me to stop. I want to feel it…Tired of just seeing you. I want to know what you’re like inside. Lie and tell me you aren’t curious too. Can’t ignore it…been trying to. It’s..wrong but I don’t care.” 

You listened to the words and melted like butter around the blunt shape gliding through your folds to open them. The air was pushed out of you just a little when Jungkook’s broad chest crushed yours. He pinned you hard into the wall. Something trickled out of you and he sucked your lower lip. 

Don’t think about how wrong this is. How he’s bringing this onto us both.

But he was also right: you couldn’t deny Jungkook was an attractive guy. And he was all over you, the way you’d ached for many, MANY nights out with your girls. The way you’d hoped with every extended stare between you and strangers that hadn’t panned out. 

Your eyes screwed shut so tight that sparkles showered behind your eyes. Your lungs ached, slacked lips pulling far too much air in. Waiting, anticipation burning in your cheeks. 

“J..just ..please..” You wheezed. 

Jungkook’s cock was thick as it sank into you. Your head reeled as the world canted dramatically. Closed eyes rolling, you choked on another gasp. Pressure filled you as his cock slid inside. The stretch was so good against your reflexive tightening, earning a deep groan from his lips. His face stayed buried deep against your throat and he pulled back slowly, then went in again. Over and over, a few times until the glide was ultra smooth–wet and seamless. 

Then the pacing thrusts began. Jungkook drove into just off the beat of the music. This song was a little faster and your body bounced along, back sliding up and down the wall. The material of your dress slowly rode up with it and sweat built with the heat of your skin touching the rapidly heating club wall. 

“You’re so tight..godddd..” He marveled, sounding far off and delirious but kept on, pumping without pause. Your heel climbed up the back of Jungkook’s thigh and your calf tightened over the round of his ass. 

His lips touched your chin and his hips rammed harder. The fireworks show filling the black of your closed eyes changed colors as pleasure began to build in your stomach, then lower. The pressure was so good. And the impact was adding a bite of stimulation right to your clit. 

You hadn’t asked much about Jungkook’s private life. You hadn’t seen him coming home with anyone or around town with a girl. He never seemed to talk about it. But maybe that was why he was so hungry now, pushing into you like he’d been suffering a long sex drought. 

Your head went airy and your chest burned as you drew in another deep breath. Nails sinking into Jungkook’s shoulder through the shirt didn’t seem to make a dent in his focus. He went on and on, unabated until you almost fainted in the rush of an orgasm. The aperture of your vision shrank, leaving a pin point of strobe right over Jungkook’s head that provided just one solitary focal point. The high blew through you. Walls and thighs clenched Jungkook’s girth. 

Let god strike you and down and the devil laughingly take your soul, this felt so good your soul might depart your body as skin sang.  

As you milked his cock, Jungkook’s lips bruised yours with a shaking kiss. It was as if he was trying to climb up the wall or push you through it–either one you didn’t care, off in your own world far beyond the roof of the club or the stars in the sky. A moan of climax left his lips as  Jungkook’s tongue brushed across your lips. He gave a full body jerk, pulsing deep inside. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. You’d paid enough attention in sex ed to know exactly how dumb you were both being, among other things in this moment. 

Jungkook’s orgasm ended just as yours faded into a few lingering twitches. Carefully he released your knee and you planted that foot on the ground. He eased back and gave you enough space, watching as you panted, brushing hands over your thighs and wanting to shrivel at the slickness running down the insides. Instead of doing anything to diminish it, you tugged the dress back down and said a prayer. 

While you swept fingers along your hair and smooth the frazzled strands down with gathered beads of sweat, he redid his jeans, zipped, buttoned, then flashed a fucked out grin. The whites of his teeth were almost electric under the black lights overhead. 

That meant anything of a certain color would show too–like giant arrows pointing right to your whorish behavior. You started to sweat again for more serious and socially disastrous reasons but Jungkook’s brows furrowed when he noticed. 

Again he came close. “What is it? No one saw.” 

You scoffed, head still spinning furiously. You took his forearm when offered and he backed through the space you had, making a way for you two to head towards a dancefloor exit. Not the same direction you’d come, at least. Every step you could feel a little more fluid tickling as it dribbled inches more down your skin. 

“You’re asking me that… Were you not just there?” He was being dense on purpose, maybe. Or he was as spun out as you probably looked. Jungkook stopped at the opening leading to a dark hall as you spied the glowing sign with male and female symbols just overhead. 

Well at least he was doing a smart thing: the bathroom. Privacy enough and the means to clean up–as much as it mattered. But that also left other problems: your friends. 

“Jungkook…” As he walked you held his wrist. He didn’t look back, paused at the Women’s bathroom door. One palm pressed the dark wood and he glanced over. 

“Hmm?” 

“...What about them?” He had to know. Jungkook was no dummy–he had common sense, even if he’d parted from it tonight for a bit. Wearing fresh anxiety all over every feature, here in the yolky hallway light without the blessing of shadows and denial, there was no mistaking the rising panic in your eyes. How the fuck would you being to explain or lie to a group of people all agreed that you were the worst liar among them all? 

Jungkook’s brow rose, then he glanced back to the end of the hall, out where the rest of the club was still alive and steaming through another song. Voices, laughter and reality was back there. You weren’t ready for any of it, legs still watery and head still foggy from the endorphins swilling through your blood.

He offered a thin smile,pushed the door faintly and nodded into the gap. 

“What about them?” You growled and he relaxed with a bigger smile, pushing the door open a bit more. “...They don’t know I’m here. I’ll leave first..if that’s okay?” 

“Jesus..” You sighed. “...It’ll have to do. We…we can’t talk about this. Like…EVER. Not to them OR anyone else.” Anyone including your parents. This was such a pinnacle and low moment of the most scandalous situation you’d ever been in. 

“What should I tell your dad if he asks?” You didn’t know why Jungkook was asking this. Your dad was never one to be in your business, especially if it was a girl’s night. You were legal age by a couple years and independent. You might still live at home but you paid rent and held down a job. Your dad seemed good with assuming you could handle yourself. That status quo would do just fine for you too. 

“He won’t…” 

“But–” 

“He WON’T.” You reiterated with eyes narrowed. That earned a playful smirk from Jungkook, the piercing on his lip suddenly shining so clearly it was almost the only thing you could focus on. You HAD to get it together and go home, not making it obvious that anything had happened between you and your step brother.

Even if you liked it. God help you… the urge for more was also buried deep down. But you ignored it in favor of disappearing through the open door. Jungkook’s hand slid down as he let the door close almost entirely. You heard his words before the world was closed away. 

“You’re kind of a bad girl, Y/n. You keep it up and I might have to blow your cover.”

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 6

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5

taglist :

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu

P/s : to those who req to be on the taglist but didn't get their notifications, please check your privacy settings !! i cant seem to find youu :((

A/n :

there was a little more i wanted to put into this chapter for a sweet ending, but was a little too long. So i'll make the next chapter extra romantic hehe !! And i should be preparing a special chapter soon for all the support ! So, shall i write a modern AU themed with this fanfic ??

"So, was that the girl of your dreams ? Looks pretty young to me." a magenta haired woman laughed as her colleague returned to reunite with her at their rendezvous.

"Is she another one of those...Vidyadharas ? The long-lived Xianzhou natives ? My, its rare to see them with horns." Kafka said, leaning against an empty container.

"She's special." her companion answered shortly, looking down at his cracked sword in hand. A sword that was once wield by a master of ice arts, speed and strength so accurate, said friend could cut through time itself.

"Yeah, I bet she means a lot to you. You keep on dreaming about her. Dan Jia, was it ?" Kafka asked, and Blade shook his head.

"No. She goes by the name (Y/n) now." Blade answered simply yet once again.

(Y/n)...he didn't remember much of who that woman was in the past. But he could recall some significant details that calmed his nightmares as he slumbered.

Every time he had nightmares, nights Kafka was too far away to quell, he would recall a certain woman in his dreams. How she would dance her heart away. How her steps were as light as a feather.

She would dance, her clothes rippling along as she danced beneath the moonlight elegantly, a simple glass fan in her hands that shone beneath the gaze of the moon. She would sing and hum, her sweet and melodious voice forever guiding him back to light when days were dark.

He wondered what happened to all the fans he had created for her...? The last one he remembered was the crystal fan in her hands which she had kept on her person the most.

He remembered forging and learning glass art and crystals just to see those (e/c) eyes of hers light up in delight. The days and nights he sacrificed and burned his hands. The hours that passed as he learned day by day how to shape it nicely, how to add details, how to blow glass.

(Y/n) had always been fond of the moon. She loved glassy and clear items, hence why he had created so many small accessories for her in hopes of them being insignificant enough to the eye to escape her brother's protective gaze.

All to see those little accessories on his beloved.

The change of name...from Dan Jia to (Y/n) wasn't much of a shock to him. Nor did he try to deny that it was her name. No, it wasn't because she was the same person.

That woman named Dan Jia...had died. Long...long ago. But was so vivid in his memories.

On the battlefield years ago. Her limp and bloodied body strewn across the ground, her heart missing from her chest.

For some reason, that name (Y/n), with that same face, didn't bother him as much as another person's change in identity did. He wondered why.

He snapped out of it and looked at his colleague. "Let's go, Kafka."

"After you, Bladie. Don't worry, you'll see her again. It's all part of the script."

"I'd rather her not witness the monster I've become."

"Hm...just in case if you want to go see her again, you can go tomorrow night, just to check if she's there." Kafka shrugged, walking off with her colleague trailing behind her.

And the heart in his chest...felt like it was burning alive. It felt as if...dragon claws were being dug into it, in a comforting way. As if to show reassurance. As if...it had met its true owner.

After Blade had left, (Y/n) fell to the ground, wiping away her tears. Her heart hurt. No, her chest felt empty. As if it were missing something...

She didn't remember anything and she felt so lost...so helpless.

But that man...he was warm. He was kind. Contrasting the fact that he was a wanted criminal, contrasting the fact that he had fled from Jing Yuan's grasp, accidental or not.

But those unfamiliar red eyes of his...brought her some memories. brought her some sense of familiarity. Though she didn't recognize him, or he was someone from her distant memory or past self, he was indeed someone dear to her.

But as she was about to continue wallowing in her thoughts and losing herself in her empty memories, the device she had received earlier buzzed in her pocket.

She took out the device, as it shone brightly, blinding her for a moment. She let out a small string of curses, like, why the hell was this...THING (??) so damn bright ?!

But it was a message from Jing Yuan. So she tapped on the white banner, as it automatically led her to the chatting app Jingyan had showed her to use earlier.

"Princess, I hope you're safe. Do you want to come back now ? It's getting late." the message read.

(Y/n) felt her cheeks heating up a little. This flirty General of the Xianzhou Luofu really likes to play his cards and call her princess, huh...?

"I am in no way a princess. But yes, I would like to return now." (Y/n) quickly tapped, finding herself adapting to the new knowledge pretty quickly.

"You are always a princess, (Y/n). Pretty like one too. just take it as a compliment, alright ? This General doesn't hand out compliments as much as you might like." she received back.

She groaned a little in embarrassment. And shook her head with a little smile playing by her lips. She got up from the ground and began to exit the dark alley, where she had an encounter with the Xianzhou's (or rather the IPC) most wanted criminal.

"Yanqing told me he had you sent to the Exalting Sanctum for some fresh air and a change of scenery. From there, you can head north onto a bridge. Then, walk left until you see a Starskiff jetty on your right. You can request a ride to the Seat of Divine Foresight. I shall be waiting for you here." Jing Yuan instructed and (Y/n) nodded, even though he wasn't there to witness it.

"If you're too late, I might come pick you up myself~" he replied once more, and (Y/n) groaned again, turning off the device.

And so she walked off, away from the alley she was in. She didn't mind the stares anymore. She was her own person. She didn't need to hide, since her horns were part of her. And they were of great significance once in the past.

(Y/n) was close to the stairs that would lead her to the bridge Jing Yuan mentioned.

Until someone stopped her.

(Y/n) was stopped with a violent thud of something colliding with the ground behind her. She turned around to see a figure in heavy uniform behind her. A Cloud Knight, she recalled, as Jing Yuan once told her. She couldn't see his facial expression for it was blocked with the metal mask that obscured their face.

"Excuse me, miss. This may sound rude, but are those horns on your head real ?" the knight asked her, skeptically eyeing her from head to toe (or so she thought).

"Yes, the horns on my head are very much real. I suggest to you to not touch them, for they are very sensitive. Like when you bite into ice cream ? Yeah, it feels like that." (Y/n) said, raising a hand subconsciously to protect the horns on her head.

She was feeling very...self-conscious about them now, but she knew the reason behind the horns on her head. The others began to look at the commotion, but rather than looking sorry for her or helping out, they looked at the knight fearfully.

"Miss, you must come with me. I must confirm your identity. No one but the High Elders are supposed to have horns on their head, unless...but you...don't look like..." the knight trailed off, looking at the woman before him.

"You must come with me, quickly." he said, and took (Y/n)'s arm forcefully to a more secluded area.

"Wh-what...? Where are you taking me ?!" (Y/n) exclaimed, snapping her arm away from the knight, growling in instinct.

"No. You must come with me."

"Hands off of the Lady." A suave voice called out from the side.

"General !" the knight saluted, standing up straight as he released the woman from his grasp.

Jing Yuan looked quite angry, pushing (Y/n) slightly behind him, giving her an apologetic look for a moment. "Sorry I'm late, princess. Are you hurt ? My apologies. He's just confused just as many of the others are."

"I thought I had dispatched the news to the Cloud Knights earlier this morning to tell the other Luofu residents. I suppose some of you weren't notified through the headlines. That was...to not confront the horned woman."

"General ! She's...she has horns on her head. This cannot be but an imposter !" the knight tried to clarify, to which Jing Yuan stiffened a little at the word 'imposter'. He glared at the knight before him.

"Imposter...do you know what accusations you are making without base ? This lady before me...is the reincarnation of the Star-Crossed Dragon's Cradle." Jing Yuan revealed, shocking everyone, including (Y/n) herself.

Star-Crossed Dragon's Cradle...? Dan Jia was that...? Just what the hell happened in her past...life or incarnation or timeline or whatever ?

"Lady (Y/n)...is the past High Elder, Imbibator Lunae's sister. The Fallen One during the Sedition of Imbibator Lunae." Jing Yuan said before he looked at (Y/n).

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, (Y/n). When you're so unprepared. I was sure to make sure most of the residents of the Luofu to remain silent if you passed. I suppose the news slipped minds of some." Jing Yuan said, giving her an apologetic look.

After the commotion was neutralized, Jing Yuan brought her to his estate. Being the ever-gentleman he was, he had provided for her a room in advance. But (Y/n) refused to rest just yet, wanting to hear answers from Jing Yuan himself. And so...

So there they were, sitting down in one of his leisure rooms, where a board of starchess was placed between them. He looked heavy to tell her what exactly transpired, but he knew she had a right to the truth.

He took in a deep breath.

"Princess...before I tell you anything, just know that I did everything for your safety. And most things that transpired in the past, shall not affect you now." he said, and (Y/n) nodded.

"I had shared the information of your awakening to the Cloud Knights to tell to the general public. You were free to roam the Luofu as you desired without interrogation, as you were under my supervision." Jing Yuan said with a heavy sigh, and a smile as he chuckled. he bowed his head, his bangs concealing his eyes further before he rose again.

"Now, like I said, you and the previous High Elder are siblings. Both of you were candidates to inherit the Dragon Heart due to numerous factors, but only one shall be chosen as the High Elder and inherit the said heart." Jing Yuan began, looking straight into (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes that looked at him curiously.

"But surprisingly, both of you succeeded the Transmutation Arcanum, after passing the dragon transmutation. And between the two of you, Dan Feng was chosen to lead the army due to his immense power and potential, and you were chosen to stay in the back lines due to your healing abilities."

"You, (Y/n), rebirthed from Dan Jia, possessed that heart, and Dan Feng became the High Elder for he was more dominant on field, serving as a more...prominent leader as some would call it. But due to his destructive nature on the battlefield, the heart was transferred to you, where you would be Dan Feng's source of power. And it would always be safe in the back lines."

"So this...Dragon Heart..." (Y/n) started.

"It is a source of power. So as long as it lives, Dan Feng's power remains undisrupted. You are the vessel, and Dan Feng is the output." Jing Yuan tried to explain.

"You used to be the holder of the Heart. Hence the title, the Dragon's Cradle. You held the heart close in your chest, protecting it from everyone and everything. That is...until it was ripped from you."

Her blurry memories from before she awoke began to flash in her mind. The bone marrow. The pain. The guilt. The screams. The ripping...

The pain wasn't only from her back. It was also from her heart.

The heart that was ripped away from her...

But why...?

Her thoughts began to scramble in her mind, not being able to comprehend anything else Jing Yuan was saying. Her vision began to blur as she was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

But she was pulled back to reality was the warm and large hand that was placed on her head. Worried golden eyes melted her heart as they gazed with concern and oozed with warmth.

"That should be enough for today. I apologize, my princess. I suppose that this information may have overwhelmed you." Jing Yuan said, a tender smile on his lips as he caressed her silky strands of (h/c) hair.

"It's late. You should rest up. Come, I shall lead you there..." Jing Yuan said, standing up and offered a hand to her.

(Y/n) took his hand as he led her through the spacious walls of his mansion on the Luofu. Being a general for as long as him and as significant, his riches knew no bounds. But he had nothing to spend it all on...

The last time he made a big spending, was to build the resting house for his dear friend, who lay resting, unknowing when she was to wake up. But now that she was awake, perhaps he wouldn't be as lonely as he used to.

The two walked in silence, Jing Yuan pondering in his own sorrows, and (Y/n) trying to remember the details and admired the traditional interior of Jing Yuan's manor. Then, Jing Yuan stopped and looked at (Y/n). "This is your room. Use it for as long as you'd like."

"In the closet is a few clothes if you'd like to wear them. I've had the servants prepare everything for you. Don't worry, I didn't peek." Jing Yuan said warmly, caressing her hair.

"My room is just next door if you need me. If you think you cant reach me, you can call me. I'll be awake if you need anything, okay ?" Jing Yuan asked and (Y/n) nodded her head.

She was much too baffled by today's revelation, that she had some trouble processing most of what was currently taking place. But Jing Yuan was kind to her, as he had always been since the moment she opened her eyes.

"Okay...thank you...Jing Yuan..." (Y/n) said, looking at him with her glassy (e/c) eyes. Jing Yuan smiled and took her hand, kissing it softly before letting go of her hand for the night.

The general smiled as he watched (Y/n)'s face lit up with a tender and shy blush on her cheeks, finding it amusing and strangely addicting. He lifted his finger to her cheek, lowering his voice to a soft whisper.

"Good night, (Y/n)..." Jing Yuan whispered before he left her, walking towards his own room.

Internally, he was screaming and congratulating himself, tempted to give himself a pat on the back. But that was a party meant for himself in his room. He closed the door, making sure that he was alone as he gazed up at the moon. he smiled longingly, his honey-colored eyes glazed with nostalgia.

"How I wished you'd dance once more, sister of the Imbibator Lunae. The Saltator Lunae, Dancer of the Moon..." he whispered.

[sinner-sunflower]

Lucifer AU idea- Rabbit Hole

Y'all know that Rabbit Hole by Miku song with the animation trend? Imagine Luci doing that dance ugh

---------------------------

The song is Angel Dust's first official music video that he wrote after breaking free of Valentino's deal.

Ozzie had offered him a job to Club Ozzie's first Pride ring branch and Angel never felt happier.

He got into music as an outlet for his emotions, releasing 'Addict' and 'Poison' to the public via Al's radio show. (He managed to convince Alastor to do it cos it would make his ratings skyrocket past Vox and Alastor loves nothing more than kicking Vox when he's already down)

After the success of his first 2 songs, Angel decided that maybe the 3rd one should have a music video.

With the help of Ozzie as his producer, the project is a go.

Writing the song was the easy part. Angel wanted it to sound fun but also resonate with his past experiences (just read the translation of the lyrics! The one angel wrote is from this Cover!)

One day, he and Ozzie were brainstorming at the Sin's office at the Pride branch.

Ozzie: Angel, this is your first music video! It must be grand! Showstopping! Jaw-dropping! Never before seen! Revolutionary!

Angel: But how do I do that, big dick boss man? I don't think even being greatest porn star Hell has ever seen will wow people now. I've done lots of things and I can't think of anything else.

Ozzie: Hmmm

Just then, Lucifer enters the office.

Lucifer: Ozzie! Just who I'm looking for. I need you to do some inspection regarding your crystals. I just talked to Belphagor and she said that her team just confiscated a whole ton in some imp warehouse in Greed. I know I don't need to meddle but I wouldn't be worried if it was anywhere else. Who knows what Mammon is doing with those and- oh! Angel!

Angel: Heya, Short king.

Lucifer: What are you doing here?

Angel: I work here, baby~

Lucifer: Oh! I knew that haha. And what's this?

The King of Hell gestures to the board they were using for notes.

Angel: Don't tell anyone, but I'm gonna be releasin a new song and it's gonna have a music video!

Lucifer: Really?! That's great! It hasn't been that long too since Poison, wasn't it?

Angel: Yeah, but we wanna catch these motherfuckers off guard

Ozzie: That's why we're brainstorming how we can wow these desensitised demons. I still think we can do-

Lucifer: Why don't I do it?

Angel and Ozzie blink in surprise at the King's words.

Angel: Do what?

Lucifer: Act! In your music video! You know, instead of you, I'll be the uhhh 'rabbit girl'? Not that- you're uh- not enough I just mean that uhm- I think the last thing they'd expect is the King of Hell a sinner's music video.

Angel: Babe, you do know this would be a not safe for work type thing, right?

Lucifer: Yeah? I know? I know you better than you might think, you know.

Ozzie: You sure? Cos Charlie might see this.

Angel: Yeah. I know I don't wanna see my dad basically naked dancing to music.

Lucifer: You can go through it with her if it makes you feel any better. But I'm up for anything.

The two others in the room just stare at him with their mouths wide open.

Lucifer: But if you don't want I...

Angel: Hell no! We are doing this!

Ozzie: Hell won't know what hit em.

---------------------------

Charlie gave it a green light cos she's so excited about her dad finally socializing and breaking out of his cocoon to really realize what everything is about. Angel wants to record a reaction of the hotel for research purposes.

A few weeks later, the video is done and it's dropped out of nowhere.

Ozzie invited the Sins to the hotel for an exclusive live viewing (he and Angel ofc knew what time it would be released and set the whole thing up)

Everyone sat in the lobby in front of a giant projector (No, Alastor, you can't watch a video on the radio!), and as the clock struck at 9:13 AM on a random Tuesday, the video played.

Let's just say that it certainly did leave mouth agaped and caused mass panic.

---------------------------

Ozzie anonymously sent a copy to Heaven and somewhere in a bright glowing building, 6 archangels lay unconscious at the ground due to shock,

---------------------------

If you guys want me to write some dialogue for that first reaction in the hotel, drop the comment!

[mish-anthropy]

This week's featured smut: "When Undead Hearts Beat 🔞" featuring Astarion & Devi

Once again, I come bearing smut!

The smut demon ordained to visit me, and I entered a kind of fugue state and ended up writing a fic about Astarion Ancunin and Devi Sharae - two characters I've only written about once before.

I hereby present: When Undead Hearts Beat 🔞

This is an AU where Astarion's nightmare from my work No Harm Shall Come to You has come true. In this story, Cazador turned Devi into another of his spawn, carved infernal runes on her back and tried to use her for the Rite of Profane Ascension in Astarion's stead. He found her just in time, their companions slaying Cazador as Astarion rescued Devi.

But now they have to make sense of a world where they're both vampire spawn. And it's up to him to help her come to grips with her new powers—and her new weaknesses.

Summary:

Astarion Ancunin and Devi Sharae have had a rough few months. And what's the best thing to do when things get rough? Well, if you were to ask them, they would say it would be a good time to have sex. And they've done a lot of that recently. But all they've really managed to do is avoid having a long overdue conversation about how they really feel about one another. Finally, they take the time to do that. And then they have sex again. :3

Tags include:

NSFW, M/F oral sex, P/V sex, Edging

Full tags and a snippet below the fold! Please leave a comment & kudo if you enjoy it, and pic of the smutty couple in question below 💜

Reblogs appreciated!

When Undead Hearts Beat

Astarion chuckled in response, his heart feeling lighter at her words. He looked at her, his eyes roaming over her tear-stained cheeks and her soft smile. “You’re so brave, Devi. Always trying to make me feel better when you’re the one who needs comfort.”

She reached to stroke his face gently. “I don’t need comfort, Astarion,” she said softly. “I just need you.”

He leaned into her touch, nuzzling his face into her palm. “I need you too, Devi. More than anything.” He looked up at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Devi...” he whispered.

He reached for her face and pulled her closer before kissing her deeply. His tongue gently stroked against her lips, requesting access. As she opens her mouth, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers. “Devi,” he said again, panting against her lips.

She gasped for air as he broke the kiss. “What is it, Astarion?”

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking with emotion. “Devi... I want to make love to you. I want to hold you and just forget about everything we’ve been through.”

“‘Make love’?” she repeated after him. “You mean, as opposed to what we did earlier?” She smiled at him teasingly.

He laughed softly, a genuine, warm sound, and very much unlike him. “Yes, something more gentle. I want to make love to you, Devi. Not just take you like a wild beast in heat.”

She chuckled. “I do so enjoy when you do that though,” she smiled against his lips. “But yes... let’s try something different.”

He grinned as he kisses her again, his fingers entwining with hers. “I’m glad you enjoy it, my darling. But tonight I want to cherish every moment with you.” He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up as he stood and carried her to the bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed before climbing on top of the mattress beside her. “Once we’re settled, I think a nice, slow love making session is in order,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“Mmm... That would be a welcome change from our usual fare,” she smiled at him. “Not that I have any complaints whatsoever,” she added with a smirk.

He smirked, running his fingers down her arm as he lay facing her on the bed. “I mean, I can only agree. But sometimes it’s nice to take things slow and really enjoy each other’s company,” he said, leaning in to kiss her neck softly.

Devi gasped as his cool lips touch her skin. She pushed him away gently, rolling him onto his back with a smile.

He let out a soft chuckle as she rolled him over. “I see you have other plans,” he said, grinning up at her.

“Not entirely,” she smiled. “I just thought after how you devoured me earlier, it’s only fair that I repay the favour.” She moved lower on the bed before shifting between his legs. Leaning down, she gently kissed his inner thigh. “What do you think?”

Astarion’s breath hitched as she moved down between his legs. “Oh, I most certainly approve of this plan.” He let out a low groan as Devi’s lips touched his skin. “You have such a way with your mouth, my darling.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said, nipping at him. “It’s a good thing I know my way around a flute,” she quipped, before flicking her tongue along the head of his cock.

Read the rest on AO3 here!

Please leave kudos if you enjoy it and let me know what you think in the comments! 💜

[eggcats]

I'm still (always) thinking about my Housewife Vox AU, so here are my sexuality/history/etc headcanons for Alastor and Vox in it

(I kind of have more for Alastor here, bc almost all of my Hazbin ships involve him so he's the one I've thought about more - I kind of keep similar headcanons no matter what ship I'm thinking of, tbh).

I'm also going to write Alastor being in a rut in this AU, because those fics are always fun, and he will be having sex but it'll be more in a "my mate is aroused and I must please them" kind of way, if that makes sense? I kind of see him as sex-neutral/positive asexual, even in a rut, but the rut makes him a little (lot) more feral and in less control of his instincts. (This is why, before he got into a relationship with Vox, he's never really been affected by the sexual aspects of a rut, because he's only interested in sex as far as his mate is).

(I know my fic kind of tiptoes around any possible consent issues, but I think having Alastor react like this kind of solves it in a way, because he's only interested in making his mate feel good so if Vox didn't want something or began to not like it, Alastor would immediately stop to comfort his mate. However, since he's never before had ANY of his deer/demonic instincts really show before, none of them are sure how he'll react this time, hence the concern).

(I don't mean this in a way to insult any other Alastor-rut fics, trust me I love them, this is just how I'm writing mine here).

I put a readmore here bc I realized how many words I was writing and didn't want to clog your dash, lol.

Alastor:

Asexual - is generally so uninterested he has never masturbated or even considered doing so; knows and understands sex (in a baseline level) but doesn't know anything further as he never wanted to engage or see it; still is only interested in it in a way to experience/watch Vox enjoy himself, wouldn't engage on his own otherwise

Possibly aromantic - the line between "romantic love" and "this person belongs to me" is essentially the same to him, could not tell you the difference (side note: neither can I)

Doesn't know either of those things

Just thinks "I'm the only normal motherfucker alive/in hell when it comes to relationships" and has not had a single question in regards to himself since

Doesn't really understand the difference between being friends/roommates and being in a relationship (hence when he found out that Vox liked him, he was like ah, okay. I don't need to change anything here, since he thinks we're in a relationship, this must be what people DO in a relationship. No need to mention any of this to Vox, surely)

When eventually I do make him have sex, he doesn't really have a preference in position. Generally, I'll include him as the more dominant partner (especially with Vox), but that's more because that's what VOX wants, and Alastor is being intimate for Vox. He has no real preference on who tops and who bottoms, as long as Vox is enjoying himself (and Alastor gets enjoyment out of the act when Vox is)

The same applies to dancing - Alastor teaches Vox how to swing dance, but once Vox learns and becomes more comfortable, a lot of their dancing has them constantly switching the lead and following position, based on whatever they feel like doing at the time

Despite living in the 20s/30s is fairly open minded about a lot of things relating to gender and sexuality, because he lived in the vice district in New Orleans and was exposed to a lot of that (either growing up, or living there as a serial killer, or both).

Some parts of me think that after he murdered his father when he was only around 13-15 (another headcanon of mine), his mother needed a way to make money and so they moved to the vice district, and so Alastor knew and grew up with sex workers and cross-dressers and saw how they were treated by police/society, and so has no issues with them.

Living there when he was a serial killer was also useful, because no one bothers anyone to avoid the risk of setting the police on you.

He doesn't know a lot of more modern terms for things, but Vox wanting to wear a dress doesn't concern him, nor does being in a relationship with a man, since those were things he not only had experienced/seen when he was alive, he's also been in hell for 20 years which is, as a whole, a lot more open minded about things. (I did try to keep him ignorant of more modern things, tho, like he doesn't know anything about things he would have only seen/experienced in hell because he doesn't care about people or relationships, really).

Probably some form of autistic (same, bestie) and takes a lot of cues about how their relationship should be from Vox (which is why he originally didn't feel the need to change his behavior even when he found out Vox was interested in him, because it didn't occur to him at all, and only discovered Vox was sexually interested when it was shoved in his face - however, now that he knows, he's taken a much more active/possessive role in their relationship, including a sexual aspect)

--

Vox:

(Previously) closeted bisexual

Grew up/lived/married/died in middle Americana, white picket fence, 2.5 children, all the houses looking identical, 1950s desperate housewives edition, the whole shebang

DID have a cult, but I'm thinking less Manson, and more "televangelist who extorts his flock for money/power" - this is why he has his hypnosis powers (he doesn't really have them/have discovered them yet, but that's because he's never really had a chance to explore his powers in any real capacity - he basically showed up in hell and then was kidnapped and wifed up immediately)

Did have a wife and children, but wasn't interested in either of them - had them more so because he "had" to and it would look bad for his image, not out of any attraction or love to his wife

All of this contributes to him doing everything he can to try to hide his attraction to Alastor, because he had to do so in life

He's Really Bad At Hiding It tho, because living with Alastor (who, even before he learned Vox was interested in him, has very little boundaries to physical space and just grabs and touches him all the time) is different than being a little attracted to your neighbor

Also, no one in hell calls him out on it, so he never quite realizes how obvious he comes across

Does eventually start his side of the media business, with the help of Alastor, to combine both radio and television to take over the airwaves entirely - becomes the Television/Video Demon, to complete the Radio Demon

Stops Alastor from murdering any and all other media demons/demons who have similar powers over the airwaves, and instead makes deals for their souls to work for him - this is where a lot of his initial power/dealmaking comes from as he rises to also be an Overlord; even when Alastor is the one who finds a media demon he basically just kidnaps them and drops them at Vox's feet like a cat presenting a half-dead mouse to it's owner

--

(Note: I'm aware that Alastor is canonically asexual and he's still in my AU, and I've heard back and forth about him being canonically aromantic and I'm unsure if you'd classify him as aro here too. I'm ace, and I think (maybe?) I might be on the aro spectrum, but regardless I kind of write Alastor like how I'd see relationships/would develop into one in a similar way. I'm not interested in sex or anything, and I've been interested in people/relationships very rarely (and those I am, once I become close friends I'm usually like, oh cool, yay), so I'm kind of using myself as a baseline to figure out how Al feels about things here.

That being said, I don't agree with people harassing other creators who DON'T make Alastor ace or aro in their fics or art, bc it's fan content and so it doesn't matter. Changing a sexuality in a fanfic isn't the same as Actual Erasure and it's wild that people claim that, because I've been reading fanfic since I was 13 and I PROMISE you none of those characters were as queer as I was reading them, lmao. Despite all evidence to the contrary, when they grew up Naruto and Sasuke did NOT fuck nasty in the Hokage office, no matter how much they should have.

Sorry rant, over.)

[itsthesinbin]

yo could you write like reader x ice king x magic betty

like i did like the reader being frozen before the mushroom war you did in one of the ice king x reader posts. so they know simon and they use that to help betty to get used to ice king and betty falls in love with over a date all three of them have. so like ice king now has two girlfriends and he’s so happy like doing happy dances flying around giggling making ice sculptures of reader and betty as gifts.

OKAY I REALLY LIKE THIS!!! 1: its cute 2: i was trying to figure out what to do with betty in this au 3: ice king deserves two girlfriends!!

as i wrote this it ended up more like.... how it started vs actual dating so feel free to ask for more :3

Ice King and Betty (Adventure Time)

At first, you were all for Betty trying to find a way to reverse the crown's magic. As much as you grew to love the Ice King, there was a nagging part of you that felt... wrong about it. Simon was in there somewhere- he certainly proved he was when he was back long enough to bring Betty into the future.

But Betty just... kept getting worse. Obsessed. Insane. It got the point where she actually ended up hurting him by trying to rewrite the crown, on top of kidnapping poor Gunther. You had to do something.

You caught her in Ice King's "the past" room one night, after Gunther woke you up. She was going through Simon's old things to try and find any clues. She almost ran when you found her, but you convinced her to stay. To hear you out.

"Betty... I know we weren't close back in the day, but you know I cared about Simon too- we were good friends. But..." you felt yourself get choked up. The only person who understood was Marceline, and that wasn't something you felt was appropriate to bring up with her. You didn't know her as well as you did Betty.

"But right now, he isn't here- you're hurting him, Betty," you pleaded, voice cracking. Her angry stare weakened, brows creasing in concern. You crossed your arms, pulling the blanket around you tighter.

"Messing with the crown like that- he was jerking around and his contorting and slamming into walls-! Do you want to do that to Simon?" Her shoulders fell, and her gaze dropped to the picture of them that she was holding. You could see her lip wobble. Slowly, you made your way over to her.

"But there has to be a way to get him back," she whispered like she needed to hear that there was. Almost like a child's wishful thinking. You wrapped your arms around her, hugging her tight. She returned it full force, burying her face into your shoulder with a harsh sob.

"If there is, this isn't the way... And you know that." Your own tears fell. Both of you mourned the man you knew, something you've done a few times since your revelation. You sunk to the ground with her, not hearing little feet plapping away from the door.

"And... Ice King's a good guy," you sniffed after a long cry, voice hoarse. Betty cleared her throat, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. She looked at you skeptically. You smiled weakly in response.

"He really is. He's funny, he's sweet- sure sometimes he has bad days but... he's the nicest guy I've ever been with. I think you'd like him, if... if you'd stop looking at him as just Simon". You held her hands, silently pleading she'd at least agree to leave him alone- to stop experimenting on him.

"... I am?" You both jumped, whipping around to see a bed-raggled Ice King holding a sleepy penguin. He was looking at you with wide eyes, clearly surprised to hear such nice words from you. You sighed, getting up and helping Betty stand. You nodded toward him, and then he smirked.

"Well, I mean... duh! You'd never date anyone as rad as me! Plus, being with a king as his perks, huh, baby?" he winked. He shooed Gunther off to bed as you shook your head. You heard Betty sniff, and your smile fell.

"Hey, what's the weird lady d-?" "Uh.... Ice King, sweetie, could... you do me a big favor? I know you're tired but... I'd appreciate it." At your pet name, he visibly perked up. You felt a little bad knowing that he'd do anything you asked if you asked it like that, but you needed him right now. Of course, he said yeah.

"Could you make that little platform and take us flying? I can't sleep and... neither can Betty." You squeezed her hand. Ice King was delighted that you wanted him to do something like that- he was always happy to be useful. He motioned for you to follow him to the exit, where he made the platform for you to get on. Betty opted to fly next to you both instead.

"I know just the place, baby and lady! Stars get REAL pretty around here this time'a year!" He flew you away from the Ice Kingdom and past Finn and Jake's treehouse. Up to another mountain range nearby where the tip pierced the clouds. He was right- the stars were beautiful.

He kept the ice platform floating in mid air, sitting next to you. Betty hesitated, but at the nod of your head she plopped herself on Ice King's other side. You leaned against him, and he was surprised when Betty did the same. Ice King didn't even flinch at the extra attention, more than happy to just have people with him.

As you three watched the stars, you heard Betty crying softly again. You both looked over, but she was staring straight ahead.

"I think I'm willing to try... to get to know him," was all she could get out without fully breaking into sobs. Ice King hesitated, before putting his hand on her upper back. You reached across his lap to grab her hand.

"That's all I'm asking, Betty." Ice King blinked, confused, before putting two and two together. A grin crossed his face.

"Hey, and I'm a great guy to know- especially if you're bored! Watch THIS!" He snapped his fingers, zapping small statues into the ice in front of you. A tiny you and a tiny Betty in the style of music box ballerinas. They held hands, skating together across a small section of the platform. You saw Betty smile.

"Yeah... maybe you are."