#if it was just to keep the wind from blowing open the door why not say something? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It��s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

part four

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

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Summer Breeze 1

Was gonna be a drabble roulette. Fuck me, I can't do this right, can I?

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad's friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You push yourself up from the air mattress, feeling the floor through the deflating cushion. You grumble and yawn as you rub your eyes. You stand up, the loose tank clinging to your stomach as you tug the hem of your shorts from the crease of your thigh.

You don’t lament your accommodation. You know you’re a last-minute addition to the trip. The place is a bit crowded and you’re just happy to not be laid out in the dirt. Still a free vacation is a free vacation. You won’t complain for it.

You stretch and pad to the door, careful not to disturb the bodies sleeping in the dual bunk beds. You’ve never been to a cottage before. This place is nicer than your house. Even if it’s a bit cramped.

Your dad always complained about the mortgage and now you know why. He’s struggling to make his monthly payments and keep you in school, meanwhile the neighbour has a whole second house by a lake. You feel worse for your meagre contributions. Your part-time job won’t get your dad his own beach house.

As you get to the door, you jump at the loud snort the cuts the air. Jacob rolls over and throws his arm over his face. He’s been at it all night. Him and his friends who crowd onto the single mattresses.

You get along but you’re not exactly a part of his usual gang. It was your dad’s idea to come up. You know he forgot it was his turn to have you for the summer. The awkward getaway is better than dealing with another of your mother’s boyfriends.

Your weight creaks in the floor as you come down the hall and you stop short at the unexpected figure stood before the open windows. You hug yourself as wind blows in from over the water. You stare at Mr. Barber’s broad shoulders as he stands shirtless as he stares out at the morning landscape.

You should go back. You’re always the first one awake at the sleepover. You lean back on your heel and the floor whines loud enough to give you away. You cringe.

“Burton--” Mr. Barber grits as he glances over his shoulder, cutting himself short as he sees you. He turns to face you completely and coughs, “sorry, I thought you were your father.”

“Um, no, sorry Mr. Barber, I was just... awake,” you utter dumbly.

“Andy,” he corrects you.

“Right, Andy,” you echo nervously, “I’ll just--” you point with your thumb over your shoulder.

“It’s fine, I... I--” he stops and looks down at himself. He wears only a pair of shorts, “shoot, I--” he clears his throat and searches around, pulling on the button up hung over one of the dining chairs, “got a bit hot.”

You notice the couch is all made up; crumpled blankets and a wrinkled pillow.

“Your dad’s in my room. He had a bit too much fun with the beer,” he sniffs.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you rub your neck. That’s not unusual.

“You drink coffee?” He asks as he comes forward, “you college girls still have caffeine without all that whip and syrup?”

You frown at the insinuation. He’s one of those; ‘in my day’, though you sense a flavour of misogyny too. You shrug.

“I don’t drink coffee,” you answer as he nears, “I’ll have some water and lemon, if you have it.”

“Lemon water,” he grumbles as he brushes closely, “you on a diet?”

You squint and let out a scoff, “no.”

He’s quiet as he looks in the fridge and takes out a large pitcher. His cheek ticks as he thinks, “not that you need to be on one... sorry.” He pours you a glass and slides it to the end of the counter, “no lemons.”

“That’s fine,” you accept the glass.

“Well, I was gonna say,” he scratches his beard as he backs up, his shirt still open, revealing his furry chest, “coffee always tastes better out on the dock but... you don’t drink coffee.”

“Mm,” you hum, “well, thanks for the water. If you don’t mind, I might go out anyway.”

He nods as he turns, popping open a cupboard to search out the canister of coffee. You linger, waiting for any response. He peels the lid off the container and glances over. His blue eyes makes you shiver. You don't know him very well, he only just moved in your first year of college. Your dad likes him but your his friends never want much to do with you.

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering--” you begin.

“Don’t mind,” he answers, “the company, that is.” He turns back to fill the machine and lets out a sigh, “not used to a full house anymore and I don’t think your dad will be up soon enough to share the pot.” He loads the filter and closes the lid on the percolator, “or the others...”

“Probably not,” you agree.

He peeks over again as he fills the carafe. You’re suddenly very aware of your own attire, or lack thereof. The loose tank, the floral shorts with the untied drawstring. You sip from the glass and give a sheepish smile.

“Anyway, I need some fresh air,” you inch away as tap your fingertips on the side of the glass, “maybe I’ll see a few loons before they fly off.”

His brows rise and fall and he turns his focus back to the sink. He shuts off the water and turns to the machine. You leave him, eager to be away from the tension of your unexpected encounter. On second hand, this is just as awkward as dealing with one of your mother’s random hookups.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #defending jacob #drabble #summer breeze

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buttercupblu · 7 months ago

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God is Fair|The Lore

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Two-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: ever since you were young, you knew you were meant for each other. he came into your life like a storm and grew closer no matter how distant you seemed. he swelled and captured your heart every time he was near. so why did you keep fighting him? w.c: 12.7k (holy f*ck) out of idk yet for part-two the rest (god bless) tags: fem!reader, mostly angsty….pretty much 90% angst for part 1, repressed feelings, jealousy, lingering lips and fingers, a little bit of self-depreciation at the end but pick that crown up love, reader gets a little violent at the end 😳|if i missed anything, pls comment or DM ☺️ angel’s note: this story started as one thing and ended up as another—so goes the way of life. PSA: most of the good, filthy, mack-nasty shyt is in part 2/3, but you’ve gotta wade through the fire first to get it. It’s always worth it|thanks for reading 🖤 earworm 🐛: Chihiro|Billie Eilish

Over time, you became perfectly molded to him.

As did his lips to your tender bud that sank under his sinful tongue.

Slender fingers grip and drown under his raven locks, barely saving you from the shallow breaths you must take to stay alive.

You’re just above water, and he steals your air, spelling poetry with his tongue over your folding petals.

Broken coos spill from your puffy lips—his favorite melody to ever grace his ears.

Whether it was today, tomorrow, yesterday, or forever—you fall—in and in and even deeper into his grasp. Under the waves and trapped in his ocean—he gently pulls you under—your lungs yearning for air, but you never want out.

And the way he dives in, drowning to taste every drop, every sweet, delectable sip of your nectar like he could live the rest of his life without oxygen—tells you that he doesn’t either.

You learned to love each other’s oceans and came to mix seas. Both treaded rough waters but learned to float with calm bodies.

Now you lie hand in hand, limbs weaved like vines through each other’s arms, as you cuddle. Completely spent from another night in each other’s depths. Grateful. Grateful for his love—his patience.

And wondering how on Earth you thought it’d be possible to exist without someone you swore you despised.

Suguru has always been the best—the best at being good, the best at being kind, the best at being quiet—the best at being better than you.

When you were eight years old, he made his quiet introduction into your quaint little neighborhood, arriving in a flashy Mercedes-Benz followed by two moving trucks that pulled right into the driveway directly across the street from your humble home. Heels painted with red bottoms adorning stocking-covered legs were the first things you saw as you watched from your bedroom window.

The sound of movers drew your attention. No one ever came to your city, let alone your cul-de-sac. You felt a shift. A change was coming.

A tall woman, her long, sleek ponytail blowing in the wind, stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing large couture shades that took up most of her face. The overhanging forecast made everything bleak and gray, but the sunglasses stayed. A man exited the passenger seat and came to the woman’s side. He gingerly took her hand and looked around with a small smile, gently rubbing her arm. She slightly grimaced and handed him what looked like one of those small, overpriced designer bags.

They looked so…out of place.

They had to smell like money.

What the heck were they doing here?

In a city like yours, one of those places where everyone knows everyone and everybody's business, you instantly knew that this couple would be the talk of the town. At least with the adults.

You blew air into your bangs. You weren’t expecting new neighbors, but they could have at least come with a kid—someone who might actually want you around.

“Hey, Bug,” your dad called from the garden.

He always left the back door open so he could hear you in case you needed him. He must have heard the rumbling of their heavy trucks now being unloaded with elegant furniture. Would all of that even fit in there? Their house was bigger than yours but not by much. “Sounds like we’ve got new neighbors. Might go by later and say hi if you want to come.”

“No thanks.”

You turned back to the window, resting your head on your arms. Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Richy Rich didn't sound very appealing to you and might only make you feel worse on this already gloomy Spring day.

For once, you wanted to be pleasantly surprised and not just surprised with something you wouldn’t expect, like hitting the jackpot or whatever.

And then you saw him.

Inky black hair drawn into a short ponytail, emerging from the back seat of the fancy car and clutching a book thicker than his torso. His starched white-collar shirt and beige shorts reminded you of school. He kept his chin tucked and looked like the wind just might knock him over if the book wasn’t keeping him upright.

He and the woman were near twins. Definitely mother and son. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and put on a genuine smile for him. The man draped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he took in the neighborhood. Slow and sheepish. You thought his eyes caught yours when he looked behind him and you ducked under the window sill.

Sh—

“You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time, Bug,” your dad called again. It sounded like he might be wrapping up. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You inched back up to the window and peered over the edge. The boy looked like he was just as lost as to why he was there.

Anxious. Reserved. Kind of boring.

Not your speed.

You blew a raspberry and turned away. So much for that. You wouldn’t be missing much.

In your neighborhood, all the kids walked freely to each other’s houses to see if anyone was home. This was before everyone had cell phones to save time and figure it out for them.

You watched it happen with the other kids all the time. They’d visit each other and either stay inside (super rare) or gather the rest of the neighborhood to play in the cul-de-sac or park.

But you were never quite given a direct invitation.

The few friends you were close with moved away about a year ago, and the thought of making new ones who would eventually do the same kept you emotionally at arm's length. To make it worse, you swore the group you were left with undoubtedly hated you.

Why?

Because you had a history of sucking.

Everyone else in the neighborhood was naturally good at something. Anything. Everything.

But you?

You had to try.

Mess up. And try again. At almost anything you could name.

Basketball? Trash.

Tag? You were slow.

Football? Pssssh. As if—like you’d let yourself get hurt? You sat out every time.

So, the kids stopped inviting you or always picked you last. Both were grimy slaps in the face. Because you always knew you could be better. Delulu was the solulu if they’d only give you a chance. Or two. Or a few. But damn, you were trying.

At least you weren’t the only one being left out.

It’d been weeks since you saw the new kid on the block—not like you thought about him much after you dismissed him. But slowly, as the sounds of Spring beckoned him outside, he reminded you that the new “rich” neighbors did indeed have a kid.

It started with the curtains in his living room window gently ruffling before he’d peek out, scanning the scene for signs of life. Then eventually upgraded to gracing the neighborhood with his presence to sit outside. For hours, he watched from his front porch as the neighborhood kids dashed past your houses to play in the cul-de-sac.

It kind of made you jealous—the amount of space and freedom on their porch that his parents clearly weren’t taking advantage of. Only two plastic chairs and a small table occupied the space, and they weren’t nearly as lovely as the things you saw go into the home on move-in day. If it were up to you, you’d string up one of those hammocks big enough for two like you’d seen on TV and just float in the breeze under the overhang. It had been a frequent daydream of yours long before they moved in.

Instead, a gawking boy with too much time on his hands made it his home. Watching. Fiddling with his fingers and leaning on the rail. Watching. Always seeming too afraid to approach.

He had what you thought was the best house in the neighborhood (and probably the most money), and still, he looked so lonely.

With the background he seemed to come from, you thought he’d be more ballsy.

One day, you were, and you walked right up there, took the hand of the wide-eyed kid, and led him to the rest of the kids down at the park. His dad watched the whole thing go down from the kitchen window as he did the dishes, silently laughing as the boy stumbled behind you without saying a word.

This was your chance. You were so tired of the other kids being better than you. With him being the new kid, you thought he’d at least be somewhat on your level or maybe even a bit worse. Anything was better than being the odd one out.

You and the boy just a few inches shorter than you crashed the party right before the next game started. You beamed at the group like you had caught a prized fish.

“Guys, this is um…um…” Then you realize you hadn’t asked his name. And he was still holding your hand.

You dropped it and nudged him. “Suguru,” he said softly, seeming to avoid eye contact.

Suguru hadn’t seen that many kids in a group like this outside of school. He didn’t mean to look so anxious, but he wasn’t used to being in a neighborhood full of kids his age. He instantly felt like an outsider seeing how comfortable everyone was with each other, apart from you by his side. While soft smiles offered him a glimmer of acceptance, the stares made him self-conscious. He wondered if he could ever fit in.

You repeated his name in case no one heard him. Suguru. It naturally rolled off your tongue. Soft and sweet. Like the boy. He fidgeted with his fingers, but hearing his name felt reassuring. You looked at him and grinned. It was time to see what he’s got.

Tee-ball was the game. One you hated the most. Running was not your sport, and you certainly didn’t have an arm, so it never hurt your feelings too much when you weren’t picked for teams. But you made sure Suguru was. You wanted to see him in action.

Last summer, you guys found an old traffic cone to use as the tee and placed sticks around the field for bases.

You didn’t expect much from Suguru when it was time to bat because…look at him. He was so small and timid. The bat borrowed from someone’s dad was almost the same size as him, and you swore you saw his feet lift a few times during his practice swings. Too much of that and he’d be airborne. You prepared to give him a “job well done” pat on the back once he hit the ball a few feet.

Suguru squared up at the tee—on his way to join you at the bottom of the barrel.

And wouldn’t you know it?

He knocked the ball clear out of the park and didn’t even skim the cone.

Your mouth fell open before you remembered you were the designated retriever since you weren’t playing the game. You grumbled the whole walk and search for it.

And then he did it again. And again. And again.

And surprise, surprise, he excelled at every game he played after. Everyone wanted Suguru on their team.

You gaped at the feat—so much power, strength, and coordination in such an unassuming body.

And instantly hated him.

Not because he was the best or braggy about it.

It was the complete opposite.

He barely seemed to acknowledge it—not in an arrogant, dismissive way, but more like he was just happy to be involved and doing something. He was sheepish with compliments and even seemed nervous to receive them. He’d rub his head and give a little close-eyed smile before returning to the game.

And peer over to you on the sidelines for approval.

Every swing, every hit, and every game after, his purple eyes would find yours whenever he thought he’d done something worthwhile.

You tried to hide the jealous scowl, returning his shy smile with a nod and told him to keep his head in the game.

But he noticed.

He saw it. He knew you were unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to help.

So after that, you kind of mirrored each other.

The kids always saw you as a try-hard—constantly on repeat, trying to make yourself valid and stand out. You’d grab failure by the throat and wring its neck, determined to make it forget your name. Not because you were attention-seeking; you only wanted to be counted in.

And so the student became the teacher. Suguru began to slip you little nods as if saying he saw you—just like you saw him all those times on his front porch. It’d annoy you at first, what you thought could’ve been pity, but it felt nice to finally be acknowledged by someone.

And so gradually, you looked to him as a spectator, earning silent yeses and nos until you finally worked up the courage to do what you were afraid of most. Ask him to be a friend.

To help you perfect your skills, of course.

But the friendship blossomed like the Spring, and you and Suguru actually grew really close—instantly drawn to each other. Pop-ups to his house were the norm as you had the most advantage out of everyone in the neighborhood by living right across from him. And you both were always brought up by one another’s parents.

Turns out Suguru’s dad was a lot like yours and they got on really well. They’re both funny, kind. But your dad’s a little bit different. He’s got rebellion in his bones, as he often talked about when he told you stories about his youth and take-no-shit hippie days.

“I’m serious, Bug. So, there we were, strapped to the tree. Shackled, really.”

He mimicked the story with his arms in between laughs.

“So, so we’re all chained up, right? And this bulldozer is coming right at our heads, ya? I look over to Stanley,” your even crazier God-father who showered you with gifts every time he visited, “I say, ‘Stanley, toughen up. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.’ And he goes, ‘I’m not scared. I forgot to go before we locked ourselves in.’”

Your dad roared with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes like he hadn’t told that story a million times. Like he was going around trying to collect little activists. But Suguru almost fell over, leaning into his every word. He was such a shy laugher, always creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he did. It made your dad feel like the funniest guy alive when Suguru entertained his jokes.

“You were so brave,” and Suguru called your dad by his nickname just like your dad told him to. “I want to be that brave when I’m older.”

Your dad winked at you—you stuck out your tongue. Suguru was a good kid, he thought and reminded him a bit of himself.

Those days, your dad was mostly the same. He didn’t need much and chose to live a quaint and peaceful life. He’d talk your ear off about activism, travel, and stories about your mom who passed when you were born. You never got to “meet” her, but you always felt like you knew exactly who she was. And she was totally different from Suguru’s mom, who you learned was a hard-working corporate baddie. Red bottom heels. Makes sense.

By the end of that first summer, your families were practically joined at the hip. You and Suguru even more so. Outside of house calls and playing games with the rest of the neighborhood, the two of you also made frequent trips to the makeshift pier. Almost everything in your neighborhood and the surrounding area was walkable, including a small, wobbly, probably dangerous dock that sat over the small lake in town. You’d play a little alphabet game you made up on the walk down and constantly challenge him. Only for him to literally beat you at your own game nine times out of ten.

“Angels shop at—” You skipped down the dirt path.

“Blessed boutiques,” Suguru finished, “Beautiful coats—”

“Can clothe their wings. Dashing dolls—”

“Eat every sweet. Forks will find—”

“Giant…giant,” you thought and thought and thought, “Giant—”

“Geese!”’ Suguru tagged you and ran down the dock, deeming you the loser of that round. You strolled down to meet him near the water reflecting the sunset. A pout took up your face. He patted the deck, motioning for you to sit. “You’re gonna miss the fireflies.”

Watching them pop up one by one and glow on the water as the sun went down became a ritual. And one of your favorite memories of summer.

The following school year, you were even more inseparable. And when the end of fifth grade rolled around the year after, you knew it was fate when you found out you’d be attending the same middle school.

You were overjoyed. So was Suguru, but for different reasons. To you, now it was on.

Academics was an area where you had a fair shot at flourishing. You were studious, attentive, and almost the perfect student. And while you didn’t have bad grades, you always felt like you could be better. And you know why. Because everything came naturally to Suguru, of course.

Thank goodness for extracurriculars, though. The two of you didn’t need to do everything together, and you both benefited from the time and separation to do your own thing and discover your own interests. The Newspaper club caught your eye and was more interesting than you thought it would be—the first hobby to make you fall in love with words.

Suguru took an interest in robotics and, surprisingly, Yearbook. He was pretty crafty with a camera and made sure to snap the best photos of you during your events.

But the two of you rarely spoke of school or after-school activities. You never wanted him to know if you were struggling or needed help with anything and tried not to rely on him so much those days, so everything with you was always good.

It had to be.

He was still the competition, after all.

And you had to appear just as flawless.

Instead, you enjoyed late-night phone calls that went way past both of your bedtimes as you grew into middle schoolers. Pretending to be asleep and slipping the phone under your pillow without moving a muscle when your parents checked in was a sport, but it couldn’t be helped. The books you were reading, shows you were watching, and thoughts on what high school would be like were too good not to talk about into the late-night hours—even when your eyelids got too tired to stay open. Falling asleep with your cellphones in hand or occupying a space on your pillows was the norm.

“What’d ya think about the movie?”

“I mean, the book is always better, right? But like,” you sighed happily into the phone, “they made their lives look so…amazing.”

The two of you watched The Great Gatsby 1979 version on DVD at Suguru’s house right after school that day before you had to scurry off to help your dad in the garden. Suguru finished the book a few days ago, and after catching him with it during lunch and poking him enough to get him to spill some of the details, you were sold.

A glamorous romance about a life of luxury and passion?

Say less.

And because you couldn’t resist, you told him you’d finish it in less time than he did.

Suguru thought the movie was pretty true to the book, but man, what a sad story. You, however, were in love with the lifestyle.

“What about Daisy?” he asked.

You pondered Daisy’s decision for half a second before deciding she was a one-off. All her life she had been spoiled, something you were a total stranger to but didn’t make a point to say—only dismissed her frivolous ways and called her a coward. “Just the money and parties would be enough for me,” you said in a daydream. “It’d be too happy to be that shallow.”

Suguru laughed and said that wasn’t the point of the book. “Money can't always buy happiness. She could’ve had love. It was right there.” He sounded so sophisticated when he said it, much too wise and sappy for a 13-year-old.

You sucked your teeth. “That’s easy for you to say.” And you reminded him that he has a nicer house, clothes, car. “And when are y’all getting the Benz back?”

Lately, you and Suguru had been getting picked up by his dad in a major downgrade of a car. It’d been at least two months, and you were missing the feel of luxury against your skin.

The phone went quiet for a second, and Suguru scratched his head. “Uh, we actually don’t have it anymore.”

Your eyes widened as if he'd just told you someone died. Borderline devastation set in like it was your family losing one of its greatest displays of wealth. But Suguru didn’t sound the least bit sad when he told you that his dad referred to the “new car” as a “cash car” because they needed something quick.

And then it clicked, and you realized why you’d been noticing that furniture and things had also been disappearing in his house when you came over. And why he had to switch to the free lunch program you were also on at school. And why his dad mentioned looking for a second job the other day.

Suguru’s family had been hit by the recession.

And that’s how he became your neighbor.

Most of everything Suguru grew up with in his previous family home was placed in storage when they first moved into your neighborhood. His mom thought their stay would be temporary; she had been demoted at work but didn’t think it was a big deal, and things would quickly be back to normal—maybe even come with a promotion if she worked hard enough.

But it wasn’t her skills that was the problem. The economy was in shambles, and her company was running out of money. After two years of hoping for a miracle, she and over 40% of her company were laid off.

They kept all of this from Suguru until only a few weeks ago. He was much too young to understand what it all meant when it first happened—he was just a kid. But now, he was older, smarter, way less naïve. They couldn’t keep lying to him about why the car was away at the shop or why the family heirloom dining table went missing, among other things.

When they told him that he’d have to slow down on his growing book collection and only get one gift for his birthday that year, that’s when he started asking questions—not that either of those things meant much to him. He was more than happy to frequent the school library, and you noticed that he’d been spending a lot more time there than usual during breaks.

What bothered Suguru the most was the looks his parents gave him when they told him everything. Like they were delivering the worst news in the world. Like they were so worried that they’d be disappointing him. Like they should be ashamed.

It hurt him more to know that they felt like they had failed him.

“My dad just looks so tired all of the time now.”

Mr. Geto, who had been a stay-at-home work-from-home employee since before Suguru was born, had to get a part-time job working overnight to help bridge the widening gap between their old and new lifestyle.

Now, Suguru doesn’t get to see him as much except to make breakfast and kiss Suguru goodbye with a sluggish smile on his face before school.

He really missed his dad. And it made you feel like shit for momentarily being a Daisy.

For the rest of the night, you just listened to Suguru tell stories about back home—what his parents were like, the things they used to do, the trips they would take, and the time they spent together. Little memories from a place you’ve never been but could clearly see as he talked through the night.

Never once did Suguru mention missing the things he used to have or wanted now. The people in his life were what he cared about most.

“My dad got a new antenna for the TV to surprise my mom with so she can still watch her favorite channels from back home,” he laughed. “It’s so big. I hadn’t seen one before, so it was kinda funny to look at, but I’m glad it’ll make her happy.”

You solemnly smiled and propped up on your arm. “Do you ever miss home? Like being back there?”

He mentioned that he thought about it sometimes: the plush green grass in his front and backyard that he’d lay in for hours, the much sunnier skies compared to the frequently gray and cloudy ones, and humid air here in your rainy city, the few friends and family members he had to leave behind.

But he liked it here better and surprised the hell out of you by saying so.

Anywhere was better than being here.

Even though his family was going through a hard time, they still managed to get the nicest house in the neighborhood. You could only imagine what his childhood home looked like compared to the one bedroom and living room your dad made into his own space.

You asked why. What could possibly make this place any better than where he came from?

You could hear him shrug through the phone as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just something about this place.”

You still think about that conversation sometimes.

The end of middle school came in a blaze, and so did puberty.

Suddenly, you became aware that it was time to start caring about what you looked like.

Some nights, you would call it early with Suguru in favor of spending hours on YouTube watching videos and learning how to wear makeup. You put more thought into how you dressed and tried your best to style the little clothes you had into mostly decent outfits.

Every morning, you’d beam when you entered the kitchen to grab breakfast and say goodbye to your dad. He’d try his best not to cry, watching his little Bug grow up before his eyes.

Suguru did some growing, too.

The summer of 7th grade, he got a little taller, and when your final year started, you guys were finally neck and neck. He was beginning to be able to see the top of your head when he lifted his chin, and he would make little jokes about it in his prepubescent boy voice that was starting to crack. You’d push the too-big glasses that he got at the start of middle school up the bridge of his nose and tell him not to get too cocky. This was the tallest he would get, you’d tease. He may have been good at everything, but he’d always be a pip-squeak.

When you weren’t going back and forth with Suguru, you were hanging out with the new gal pals you made at school. Your little trio started spending more time together, window shopping at the mall, attending football games after school, and talking each other’s ears off about anything in between throughout your last year. You couldn’t tell Suguru everything, of course—there are some things that guys will simply never be able to relate to or understand.

And one day, while the three of you sat at lunch together while Suguru was off with his robotics team, one of your gals leaned over the cafeteria table to poke you with a devious smile and ask the age-old question: who do you like in school?

Your brain had the audacity to picture Suguru first.

Your friends squealed watching your face blush beet red, but you turned away and never answered the question—only said that you were more focused on school and extracurriculars to help you in college more than anything else.

But where the hell did that come from?

Suguru was, debatably, your best friend, but that was it.

Not that you needed to convince anyone else of that. Just…yourself?

Before that day, you never really thought of Suguru in that light. He was this quiet, nerdy, prodigy of a boy who was great at everything and gave you another reason to want to be just as good. You secretly looked up to him, if you wanted to call it that, but you certainly didn’t like him.

He was just the boy next door.

The boy next door who was challenging you once again: to push the little hints of affection that had been blossoming aside and dismiss them.

Bury them down, keep your eyes on the prize, and finally be rewarded for your efforts.

To keep up with him, not fall in love with him.

On a rare sunny Saturday, a month and a half before school let out for the summer, the two of you sat on his beloved front porch with the future on your minds.

Suguru picked at the grass growing between the wooden boards. “Thinking about trying something new next year?”

You popped another sugary blackberry from your backyard into your mouth while stretched out on Suguru’s favorite quilt. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you looked, drinking up the warm sunbeams on your skin.

“I don’t know,” your arms folded behind your head as you stared at the ceiling, “I love Newspaper, but…I don’t know. I think I wanna branch out.”

You just weren’t sure how yet. You had done some research on the high school you’d both be attending next year and ran down the list looking for something to jump out at you. Something you could really put yourself into. You still loved writing and expressing yourself, but there was nothing else besides repeating Newspaper or trying Yearbook (Sugu’s territory). The rest of your options weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“How about volleyball?”

“Nah.”

“Art club?”

“Mmm-mm.”

He leaned against the wooden railing. “Hmmm, choir?”

You laughed and didn’t even bother to respond to what was clearly a joke.

He sighed and pensively licked the sugar from his fingers before asking if maybe you’d want to do something together.

You looked at him and squinted. “What?” he shrugged.

“You know what.” And he shook his head all innocent-like.

Always innocent that Suguru. Effortlessly wrapping everyone around his finger. Your dad, his teachers. Even your trio mentioned him from time to time about how helpful he was. With all the times he went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even you were starting to let your guard down. Watching him now as his ponytail blew softly in the wind, looking so naïve as to what you meant but still wanting to understand, made you blush sick.

Not having much of a reason to actually be so guarded, you made one up. “You tryna go toe to toe with me, Geto?.”

Your brow cocked, and you used his last name because you knew it’d get to him. He was fully aware that you only say it when you’re serious, and it’s mostly blurted when you guys go at it on Mario Kart.

“Just because I said we should do something together?”

“Yeah, so you can one-up me.”

If there was a hobby or favorite pastime that you really enjoyed and might actually be better than good at, you knew it was best to keep it out of Suguru’s reach. Academic and recreational competitions needed to remain separate if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Suguru took a breath. If there was one thing he didn’t bother competing with you at, it was arguing. He knew you wouldn't back down if he just sat here and tried to convince you; you’d poke a hole in every counter until he simply gave up.

So, instead, he pandered to your inflated ego, chewing his lip before telling the truth. “C’mon, Twin. I promise I won’t. Do it for me.”

His soft purple gaze landed on you, and you got a funny feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before.

He was serious.

He really wanted to be at your side trying something new—exploring together—helping each other find yourselves.

The shy teen who was as quiet as a mouse and yet a beast of a kid wanted to be right there with you. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

You cleared your throat and averted his gaze. “Fine,” you agreed, but on one condition, “It stays a hobby, no competing.” And it sounded like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But valedictorian? That’s mine.” And you tossed another blackberry into the air and caught it perfectly in your mouth, making Suguru raise his eyebrows.

“That’s a bet,” he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sugar from the corner of your lips. You swat away his hand and punch his shoulder, but damn him if the gesture didn’t make you feel all weird inside. He faked an “Ow” and rubbed his arm before joining you on the quilt to soak in the sun. You closed your eyes and pretended to float in the breeze whistling through the railing. Even without the hammock, it kind of felt like you were.

“Sooo, what do you wanna do this summer?” And the possibilities felt endless.

Who knew this core memory of each other’s youth, the moment you finally let his fingers inch across the blanket and softly brush yours without pulling back, would be one of your last?

Two weeks before break started, after all of your plans for the summer and the following school year had been planned out, it happened.

To this day, you question the timing of your worst nightmare—just when you thought you were living the dream—coming true.

The Geto’s were moving on up.

For years, Suguru watched his mom grind in corporate America. It wasn’t new to him; she had one of the hardest work ethics he’d ever seen, but it was on a different level after his family moved to your city.

Something in her had changed—the thought of instability.

She knew Suguru was used to not seeing her due to long hours at work, but when it started to affect her husband, when it began to shift the family’s dynamic, she knew she had to figure something out, and fast.

She could sacrifice her time for the family. She couldn’t sacrifice Suguru’s time with his dad.

All these years, Suguru’s family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps while Suguru was lost in the bliss of friendship. Mrs. Geto’s hard work paid off, and she got a promotion—on the opposite end of the country.

The day was bright and sunny when he left, the exact opposite of how you felt watching the beat-up car that had grown on you drive out of the neighborhood.

You looked on from your window because you didn’t want him to see you crying, watching, or caring.

You had been right from the first time you saw him.

And were back to square one.

Alone.

You guys tried to stay in touch, you really did, but being in totally different time zones made keeping up with each other a little harder. New apps for your phones, like Snapchat and Instagram, helped a little, but they didn't compare to the late-night phone calls you missed so much.

At first, Suguru would Snap you about how he was getting on in his new city, neighborhood, and places his family would explore over the summer.

The thought of him being someone’s new boy-next-door made your stomach twist.

When school rolled around, he’d send Snaps and joke about his preppy new uniform that came with a vibrant red tie and over-starched navy pants. His mom got him into a fancy private school because, of course she would, but they were really strict with phones, so you weren't able to talk to him until he got home. By the time he did, the sun had already gone down for you, and you’d be too tired from your own after-school activities to keep your eyes open.

You missed Suguru—even your dad missed him and his family terribly.

You missed him so much that you began to resent him—his new life, fancy school, and new “friends”. Jealousy reared its ugly head, forcing you to put your walls up again.

Another friend, gone, moved on to bigger and better things. Leaving you behind once again.

You had finally found a friend, a real friend, who never made you feel bad—someone you could tell almost all of your secrets to.

Who got whisked away.

Who you’d give anything to see again and go back to the way things were.

Though it’d only been five years, you felt like you’d known him your entire life.

But what you thought was fate, turned out to be folly.

It wasn’t fair.

Sometimes I fall But still, I rise To the skies high above In the clouds my ego Will go where no one knows

Why I am here

And why I try

To defy what I believe What it means to succeed To be won

To be one

To be “the one”

A smoking gun.

“Thank you.”

The cafe filled with snapping fingers as you walked off the stage, heart pounding and a smile plastered on your ducking head.

Look at you now. Performing in cafes, libraries, open-mics, wherever you could be that called for an audience. Still a little shy, but letting it motivate you and pour out on the floor to be soaked up by the listeners. It was an adrenaline rush, finally finding something you knew belonged to you and being damned good at it.

No one was better than you at telling the world how you felt while simultaneously mesmerizing an audience with your soliloquy and speech. Words still had a hold on you; you just figured it was better to say them out loud than keep them written down.

“Good job, Bug.” Your dad handed you a hot cup of tea fresh from the counter with your nickname scribbled in big cursive letters across the cup.

“Dad, please stop calling me that.”

He frowned. “But you’re my little bug.” He threw an arm around you, almost making you spill the hot liquid.

You groaned and protested. “I’m not a kid anymore.” And took a sip too soon, burning the tip of your tongue. You held it in and swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else saw the scorned look on your face.

You thought of 15 as one of your prime years and kept yourself busy to prove it. Just a sophomore in high school, Baby had a new hobby: dominating slam poetry. You had taken over the scene in your city with expansion heavy on your mind.

Though it was hard for your dad to hear, you were right; you weren’t a kid anymore. But you knew he was just proud of you. More than you could ever know. It made him happy to see you had something no one could take from you.

With a tsk, you leaned into his hug. You should be thanking him more. When the idea of doing slam poetry first crossed your mind, you were a hot mess (surprise, surprise) at being confident (BIG surprise)—your stage presence was lacking, to be specific.

On the page, your poems were like water in a desert, but opening your mouth and performing it with your whole chest was…different.

Fixating on your lines and rhythm made you want to pull your hair out. It was hard making sure your words sounded like you and would be understood. You needed to be understood.

You’d practice your performances in front of your dad until you were blue in the face. A show was put on for anyone who would listen. And secretly, you missed Suguru’s presence because he’d be perfect for it.

But you didn’t need him. You were on your way to competing in your first official local competition. All your practice around the city and long hours at home agonizing over your talent for slam poetry built up to that moment—the time to show the world what you had to offer.

Nothing felt better than holding the gold 1st place medallion between your fingers afterward. Regionals came next, and nothing could have validated your talent more than the medals you took home on top of the prize money your dad stashed away for college.

It was time to travel, and Nationals was your next target.

You couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being outside your city. The thought of being beyond the walls of home once felt like a hopeless dream. New cities, new friends, new organizations, and new styles of poetry were within your reach. The exhilarating travel that worried your dad put a thrill in your heart. You wanted to see everything—be heard everywhere. Life was full of opportunity and everything it had to offer.

“So you’re gonna do the group piece and then an individual one, maybe?”

You leaned against the cool bus window as you and your teammates winded down the road to your next hotel. Over the summer, you traveled with your state’s top slam poetry organization to compete in regional cities around the coast. All of this was practice for the Nationals coming up that August before school started. The day was coming faster than you could imagine.

“I don’t know about a solo,” you wondered.

You looked out the window and chewed your bottom lip. Your team lead had been pushing you to do a stand-alone piece for the Nationals for weeks, but you felt far from ready. You were strong in a group, but on your own, looking out into a crowd of people while demanding their attention on an empty stage, the thought made you queasy.

This wasn’t your local library or a small regional contest. Nationals is where you tell the country who you are and why you matter.

“Hey,” a hand rested on your shoulder, calling you back. “You’ve got this. You deserve this.”

And you did deserve it. You’d worked too hard and advanced so far in such a short amount of time. You didn’t think you’d get here so fast, but here you were, on a double-decker bus full of others who were just as talented as you, in a place where you belonged. In a place where you didn’t have to try so hard or look for that slight nod of approval to let you know you were seen.

August was in a hurry to put you on the stage because, before you knew it, it was time to head to California for the Nationals. What better place to begin to live your dreams than in the place where they all come true? Sunny skies, sandy beaches, and the aura of art and performance lingered in the air. It was the complete opposite of where you came from. It felt like home. You could see how Suguru could get easily lost in all.

You always wanted to visit the West Coast and see how he was living.

It’d be so funny to randomly Snap him after all this time and tell him you were so close, but you decided against it.

Cali was HUGE; there’s no way the competition would just happen to be in his city for you to casually bump into him.

Plus, imagine that awkward reunion after a few years of radio silence.

You two could be completely different people now.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

So many great things happened since his family packed up and left. In fact, without Suguru around, you found yourself excelling more naturally at anything and everything than ever before. Comparisons were a thing of the past, and you knew you had something no one else could take away from you.

Except maybe the competitor going on before you at the Nationals.

The audience was loud and clearly approving of his killer performance as they ate him up with whistles and snapping fingers.

Who needed a mic when you had a voice like that?

Easily projecting across the entire venue with every rhythmic pop, beat, and enunciation of his words.

You might have met your match or worse.

For the first time in your poetic career, you thought you just might lose your winning streak.

Anxiety convinced you to head back to the holding area. You just needed to run through the lines of your solo only a few more times.

You’ve got this.

He was nothing.

This was nothing.

You were taking home first place—absolutely positive that success was literally on the tip of your tongue. Until you saw him.

The boy with the raven hair.

Unmistakable and stopping you dead in your tracks as you saw him in the flesh for the first time in 2 years, standing long and tall in the venue.

Not in the audience.

Not as a stagehand.

But in another team’s holding room.

As a competitor.

Your heart plummeted into your ass.

What in the fuck was he doing here???

You swiftly ducked behind the wall leading to your team’s holding area, hand flying to your chest to still the thunderous beating.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. DEEP B R E A T H S.

Suddenly, your mouth was desert dry.

The entire summer, you prepared yourself to keep from slipping up—how you would suppress the urge to call him, think about him, or wonder where he would be when you were here.

You covered all of the bases.

But here he was in a place you least expected.

In a place you now knew you’d dread seeing him the most.

The boy you had become a ghost to was haunting you, but somehow, you knew this would happen.

You only got a quick glance at him before you vanished, but it was enough of a glimpse to notice the chances.

And God, were there changes.

As teenagers do, you both had grown out of your prepubescent bodies and into your young adult ones. And while you thought you looked relatively the same with a few upgrades here and there, Suguru had gone through a full-blown glow-up that set yours on fire.

“Almost ready?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your teammate followed your line of sight and smirked. “Know him?”

You shrugged a bit too nonchalantly and said you thought he looked familiar but didn’t. “Shame,” she rested her shoulder on the wall with a dreamy gaze. “He looks like a dream.”

You turned away before you threw up and realized that you were about to be called up next. The frazzled look on your team lead’s face let you know she’d been looking for you, and you took a synced deep breath when she spotted you. Her hands fell on your shoulders before you went up the stairs to the stage. “You’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. . . . You don’t got this.

Your legs felt like Jell-O walking up the short set of stairs to the black platform in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t been on one this big, in a venue so large, with an audience so vast and eyes in the hundreds. The row of judges sat below you, yet looked so intimidating. Heat engulfed you from the lights above—a literal deer playing the lion in the headlights.

Sight zeroed in on the judges, you avoided the audience. Hoping that he wasn't still there because you knew seeing him WOULD freak you out.

In the silence Between the shattered and oppressed dreams I found, I tore The roar Of my own voice Reclaiming the night

Your lines flowed out of you more naturally than water, eyes closed, unfocused, or hazy as you transformed your surroundings into the scene of your story—the journey from struggle to empowerment—the story of why you deserved to be here. In that moment, there was no one else—not even the judges—just you, the stage, and the song that belonged to you, even if it mattered to no one else.

But it mattered to him.

And you didn’t see him until near the end of your set.

The familiarity of your voice called him to confirm it for himself. To make sure it was you. He couldn’t believe it. You looked so…powerful. Fully fledged in your adulthood, kicking ass and taking names. Fierce and poetic. The same attitude as the girl he grew up with but in its full realization.

Your voice cracked a little when you spotted him, completely awe-struck by you, but you played it off like it was part of your set. Damn the boy who had the same gawking eyes that used to watch the neighborhood kids—quiet and longing. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Suguru noticed. He knew. He still had some kind of effect on you. He could tell by how quickly you looked away. You still felt a way about him. He wasn’t just a nobody to you. But given the circumstances, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it by the time he took the stage.

The mic fit snuggly between his fingers. It was rare that someone fully approached it without starting their piece first. You wondered where he was going with this, why he looked a bit tense, why he kept his gaze low—if it could be because of you.

You held your breath and crossed your fingers. Once again, it was time to see him in action under the sweltering stage lights. And in seconds, you saw your gold medal fleeting.

You expected nothing less.

His voice was lined with melody—a sweet, ethereal flow and a melodious string of vocabulary that wrapped you in an envelope and swaddled you like a baby. He sounded so mature. He sounded so much better…than you.

The nerdy boy with too-big glasses and cracking voice had been replaced by a young man who towarded over the audience with a long side-bang and gauges in his ears. The red tie around his neck did look absolutely ridiculous like he said, but the rest of his navy blue uniform was tailored to perfection and fit like a glove.

He looked and sounded like where he came from. Money. But he was more than that. You found yourself hanging onto his every word as you watched from out of sight. He couldn’t see that he made your heart thump, but it was begging to fall out of your chest by the second.

This wasn’t about slam poetry anymore.

Suguru had entered your arena.

Shy, reserved, and knocking the ball out of the park.

Out of over 200 solo acts, you came in 6th. Suguru came in 5th.

And you couldn’t even feel good about it. Because you knew what this meant.

Regionals took over the remainder of your sophomore academic year, but when summer rolled back around, it was time to look Suguru in the face again at almost every out-of-state competition. The West Coast was once a dream—now you dreaded touring the area because you knew he would be there.

Performing.

Waiting to chew you up and spit you out.

Over the final two years of high school, you both spent most of your free time hopping around the nation and directly squaring off with each other.

Growing more apart as you did.

Silent hatred brewed and led the way every time you saw him—unmistakably written on your face.

He chalked it up to the fact that the two of you had changed over the years, and maybe you’d simply outgrown him. But he never thought someone he used to call his best friend could give him a look so cold. With no other choice but to follow your lead, he kept his distance and pretended you weren’t there.

But the way he racked up medal after medal, winning over judges and audiences alike, was loud and clear.

With him, you could only hope for second best. Though out-of-state competitions were just practice, losing to him in any capacity was a constant reminder that what was yours, wasn’t anymore.

If it ever was.

This time, anxiety burned through you instead of helping you.

During junior year, one of the most pivotal moments of your poetic careers, you met face-to-face again at the Nationals. Both of your organizations fought their way to the semifinals, but as you held your breath waiting for the judges to call his team’s name, silence swept both of you when you realized that neither of you made it to the finals.

Again.

By that summer, you were tired, good and tired of inching closer and closer to third place, then second, but never first in out-of-state competitions where Suguru was in the mix.

He was sucking the life out of you, but you couldn’t show it, especially when on stage where you knew he’d have his eyes glued to you.

Then, in August of your senior year, it finally happened; you returned to the Nationals, your final opportunity to win and go international. This time, it was close to your territory, in Georgia.

All bets were off.

The winner was a toss-up.

And what a slap in the face to finally win….and tie with Suguru.

You sulked on the inside the whole ride home while your teammates cheered and celebrated around you. To them, you’d just made history with your organization being the first in your state to go to the continental competition and have a shot at the World Poetry Slam Championship.

To you, your freedom of expression kept escaping you.

You felt yourself starting to mold into something outside of yourself.

Some nights, you lied in bed, unable to sleep hearing Suguru’s rhythmic beats rack through your brain.

Analyzing them.

Judging them.

Mimicking them.

Wanting to be like the best.

Your foundation was shaking.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the continental competition. Winning wasn’t the point; only earning one of the top 10 high scores to be automatically qualified for the WPSC.

It was a dream come true.

But how come it tasted so sour when you stood on that stage, your teammates going absolutely insane in the crowd at the news of you advancing to the international championship, but once again with a score just shy of Suguru’s?

The two of you were declared the best in your country…and you were sulking.

It shouldn’t matter!

You're one of the top 40 poets in the WORLD, babe!

And, for Godsake, a free plane ticket and trip to leave the country was waiting for you with your name on it! Belgian waffles and fountains of chocolate are more than enough reasons to get over yourself and this one-sided beef.

But your dad still got an earful about it.

Weekly chats with him almost always centered around poetry and Suguru ever since you first saw him sophomore year.

The closer the world championship came, the sadder you sounded.

“What if I-”

Your dad stopped you. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What have I always said?”

You hugged the phone to your ear, rolling your suitcase back and forth between your legs in the airport terminal. “Bug,” your dad said after a moment’s silence.

You groaned. “We don’t say ‘what-ifs’. We say ‘what is’.”

“And what’s going to happen.”

You looked over to your team lead, soundly napping in the corner. It was the butt crack of dawn, and both of you had gotten to the airport way too early for your liking to make sure you didn’t miss your flight. Your first international flight. You actually had a passport, like???

So much had gone into getting you here.

Energy. Time. Effort. Trust. Encouragement.

People were rooting for you. They wanted to see you win. You wanted to see you win.

“I’m gonna do my best.”

“Then you’re already a winner, Bug.”

God, your dad was gushy. And God, you loved him for it.

You didn’t feel so bad by the time you watched the sunrise in full bloom through your airplane window.

Pink, orange, and yellow washed over your face, making you feel so small. It wasn’t your first time in the sky, but definitely the most nervous you’d been.

Local papers, blogs, and newsletters featured your name—people knew you now; they had expectations.

A reputation had been made, and now you were in the fight of your life to keep it.

You sighed into your palm with your dad’s words in mind.

David was determined to take Goliath down.

Belgium.was.cold.

Like you hadn’t packed nearly thick enough coats type of cold.

You felt like an idiot.

You were a lyrical genius but couldn’t even put ‘Belgium in December’ and ‘it might be freezing’ together. But the lobby of your quaint little hotel with hot chocolate on tap was warm and inviting.

Your team lead handed you a cup, and you found yourself missing your teammates. They would have loved this and cheering you on at the top of their lungs.

The feeling was lonely—nerve-wracking.

You were in the beautiful country of Germany for a competition, not leisure, so you couldn’t even relish in the fact that you were overseas.

At least the food was good. Nervous eating made you binge until you felt sick the night before the competition, but a quick stroll in the brisk morning air made you feel better.

The bus ride to the venue felt like you were about to hop into a boxing ring. And the gloves were off.

Crossing the threshold into a space full of chosen people was like marveling at the diamonds of top-society. And you were one of them. Your team lead walked by and closed your gaping mouth with a smile. “Chin up, dear.” And disappeared into the crowd.

You'd never met a foreigner before and were thrust into a venue full of different skin tones, accents, languages, and ages. It would’ve been even more overwhelming had it not been for the smell of coffee wafting through the air, reminding you of your last safe space for poetry before you went pro. With half an hour left until the competition, you thought exploring a little wouldn’t be a bad idea.

The venue was dark and moody, perfect for setting the atmosphere and circulating the rising tension in your body. The main stage basked against the background of darkness under a single warm light that cast a circular glow.

Your final destination.

His burial sight.

Suguru was nowhere to be found, but by the looks of the thick crowd shuffling in to fill their seats, it was easy to get lost. You met back with your team lead to run your rhythms a few more times.

“Please don’t say it.” And she laughs, giving you a small nod and shoulder squeeze.

You still hear it in your head. You’ve got this.

But man, were these poets giving you a run for your money.

It was exhilarating and terrifying—a glaring reminder of why you were here among the best.

Translations were available on the screens behind the performers as you ping-ponged between their words and their expressions. Both demanded your attention and the crowd’s.

But so did you and Suguru when you both breezed through the semifinals.

For a second, you thought he hadn’t made it to the venue at all when you looked for him during your performance. But he let you and everyone else know he was in the building when he graced that stage. A hush fell over the space, and even you felt your face go soft while watching him.

He more than deserved that advance, but you weren’t done just yet.

After a brief intermission—the DJ wasn’t playing any games—you turned the corner to line up for the final round when you collided at 100mph with Suguru.

“Fu— oh.” You held your arm as you looked at him—really taking him in.

When he was on stage, you noticed he wasn’t in his usual uniform, but up close, the alternative was definitely a choice. The loose black tee ruffled as he smoothed his bang.

“Sorry.”

He rubbed his shoulder and kept his eyes low. His hands stuffed into his black cargos as he looked away, not wanting to upset you. Or see the look of resentment on your face.

You could tell he knew he made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t know how different he wished things could have been.

Hurt was written all over the face of your childhood best friend, and you never knew Suguru to be upset about anything.

You cleared your throat. “Good luck.”

His head drew back like he’d seen a ghost.

His lips parted.

Then he kind of smiled, leaning against the wall—looking at you for a moment.

You were so grown up and had accomplished so much.

Suguru was fully aware that you hated his guts and was so proud of you—even if you didn’t need him anymore.

He reached out to shake your hand. “Good luck, Twin.”

Your heart thumped—no one had called you that in 4 years—sweet and low from honeyed lips.

Suguru’s hand lingered in your air for a second before you gingerly took it.

Soft and warm.

Just like you remembered but stronger—firmer.

The gloves were off for him, too.

Things were done a bit differently for the final rounds. Instead of holding deliberations for the end of the rounds after everyone had gone, everyone got their votes front and center from five random audience members.

Paddles would fly in the air, displaying the scores to be tallied up and held until the end.

Thank God you could do quick math. Numbers were racking up—bone-chilling talent was on full display.

You were amazed, laughing, shocked. Every set was different from the last.

The crowd fell into a hush when one guy came on stage and laid straight down. Bareback to ground. Then fired off rhythmic jokes that made you laugh at some and ponder the seriousness of others.

Dark humor often has truth in it.

Most sets were in a completely different language yet spoken so beautifully that you dug your nails into your palms to keep from crying. Emotion was universal. And you were feeling a lot of them.

Suguru walking onto the stage snapped you out of it as you watched from the other side of it.

Though you’d just seen him a few minutes ago, this was a completely different light. Something had shifted.

Nice to meet you My name is Suguru Oh really? So is mine! It’s nice to meet you too.

Tell me what you’re like, what do you like to do? Lately, I’m not sure Was hoping for a breakthrough

In a world where masks are sticky and glue I’m lost in a maze with no clear view Doubt will cling like morning dew Caught in the storm of shifting hues

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought Suguru was having a mental breakdown.

Your jaw tightened, clothes fidgeting between your fingers.

It was the most unexpected thing you could’ve imagined. And this was just the beginning of the journey through his paradoxical mind.

His ship was sinking. And he was taking you all down with him.

…I wear many faces each one feels new, But none will fit like I want it to Left with a voice that's small and untrue Burying deep I don't know what to do

In this mirror, I’m searching for clues, But this reflection is oddly askew. You scream through the glass, “Stay real and stay true!” But if you’re me, then…who are you?

You could hear a pin drop.

Suguru stopped breathing.

He couldn’t believe that he actually did it. He had never been so vulnerable.

If you thought you knew him and what he was going through before, you were left stunned and corrected.

A few of his scores floated into the air, and though you couldn’t see them all, the few you did were perfect 10s.

It would’ve been hell to go directly after that—thankfully, you had a few more people before you.

Time crept closer and closer to your set—nervous sweats and fidgeting fingers kept you company.

So much for keeping a hobby a hobby, you thought, pacing backstage.

This wasn’t fun for you anymore; it was always supposed to be fun, easy, natural.

But this was no longer just about you.

It never was.

It was about proving anyone who ever doubted wrong.

When the host called your name, you made those 3 minutes on stage feel like your last.

Rain, rain don’t go away, You’re the only one who stays, Cross my heart and hope to die I promise that I will not cry

Build and build and There it goes! All for naught and just for show Hypnotize your guards to grave Leave the trust to fade away

This was your final plea to be heard by the world if you had ever made one.

A letter to those who ever dismissed, ignored, or left you.

Fire and brimstone poured from the pit of your soul—served up on a plate with the audience in mind but Suguru as the guest of honor.

You thought he’d be away in the dressing room or at least within earshot, but no. He stood tall and bright, leaning against the door frame that led out to the hall, backlit by the warm lights that framed his figure, watching.

Listening.

Knowing the poem was partially about him.

You hoped it hurt him as much to hear it as it did for you to write it.

Deep breaths kept your voice steady—he wouldn’t hear it crack this time as you powered through your trembles. Bold and brash. Unleashing your truth.

He saw it in your eyes and unconsciously did the only thing he knew to support you, the beginning of your connection—trust that blossomed into turmoil. The small nod of approval.

Years had passed.

Envy had pushed you to avoid him.

He accepted that you no longer saw him as a friend.

Yet he still wanted to show his support.

And it pissed you off.

…Lo and behold the savior's light Here to take another flight Take me by my desperate hand Lead me how you only can Fragile like a gentle rose I will follow where you go.

Shadows whisper of the known What I am. I am alone...

You walked off stage before you could see your final scores.

Whatever would be was now out of your hands—the relief felt agonizingly sweet.

Your team lead wrapped you in her arms as you silently cried. You didn’t know how long the tears had been building up, but the release was like a dam burst.

Crying on your first international trip to Belgium.

Nice.

A final intermission was left, and the scores were tallied. You guzzled down some water and took a few breaths before meeting the rest of the contestants. Finally, finally, you and Suguru stood side by side again on stage. Your entire history had built up to this moment—ready to declare a winner. Ready to determine whether you finally caught up.

His pinky brushed yours, sending sparks to your belly like that day on his porch.

Head down, you waited for a name to be called.

Any name, every name, would be better than—

“Suguru Geto.”

Naturally rolling off their tongue.

Suguru stiffened beside you like he couldn’t believe it himself as they motioned for him to come forward. In your mind, everything went quiet. You couldn’t feel anything but emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Not even anger.

Before he moved a muscle to claim the spotlight, he turned to you, daring to offer his hand again. But it felt less like a “Job well done!” and more like a pitiful “I’m sorry.” And you had had enough of condolences.

You turned away and left the stage in the midst of the raging applause for Suguru. No one else may have caught the cold shoulder, but to Suguru, it felt like he was trapped in ice. He could leave your life forever now for all you cared.

This was your one, final chance to make things even between you two.

But reality was a bitch.

You couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

Yes, you’ve gotten to travel the country. Yes, you got the opportunity of a lifetime to go overseas just off your hard work alone, but all of that meant nothing if you were only second best.

It was redundant.

What was even the point in trying? You would never be good enough to stand on your own. Always under his shadow, drowning in his wake.

It wasn’t.fucking.fair.

You brushed past your team lead, contestants—anyone trying to tell you how amazing you did. You couldn’t stand being bathed in lies and beelined out the back of the venue.

“Fuck this.” You choked back tears, breath escaping you as you pushed the door open.

The contrast of sharp, cold air whipped your face, making you realize you didn’t grab your jacket, but it was just what you needed to set the gravity of your situation in.

You were nothing.

You bawled your fists.

And foolish for trying.

Hyperventilating.

Look at what you came from. Look at what you get for trying to change that.

Hot, fat tears spilled down your face as you huddled in a corner of the building. You wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to shield the icy winds, but you already felt dead inside. Pathetic and worthless. It was out of your hands to change that.

A voice called after you, belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now. That soft, angelic voice that swooned the world and made your insides boil. Why couldn’t he just get it?? Why couldn’t he stay the fuck away??

You thought you had hidden yourself well by putting a bit of distance between the exit and the corner you tucked into, but he found you in seconds, tears dried on your face, crouching into your knees.

He stood there gaping, completely overwhelmed by the state of you.

For once, he was out of words.

“Well??” It was hoarse and cracking.

“I-I’m—”

“Oh my God, pLEASE fucking save it!” You shook, burying your head into your arms.

It was enough that he got to bask in your pathetic breakdown with front-row seats. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.

But Suguru was fed up with your bullshit and came looking to tell you about it. The final straw was leaving his extension of sympathy high and dry as you walked off stage. Giving him the ultimate “fuck you” in his moment of congratulations.

He never understood why you hated him—the resentment, what happened, what he’d done. But he was about to make you explain yourself.

“Get up.” Gentleness left his voice.

He came closer and towered over your petite frame, cornering you so you couldn’t run away. “You think I don’t know how much this meant to you?”

When you didn’t answer, he crouched down to your level.

“Hey.”

You buried yourself deeper.

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me.” You brushed him away, pressing your back into the wall as you stood up, shivering in the wind.

But it felt like you had punched him in the gut.

He had never seen you so bothered before, and the revelation that you were pointing the finger and naming him the culprit made his chest feel tight. It felt worse attempting to bury your heart on your sleeve. But the extent of your scorn was on full display.

After a moment of looking your bitterness in the face, it finally clicked for Suguru.

Why you hated him. Couldn't stand to look at him. Avoided him.

Why you started all of this competitive bullshit in the first place.

The root of it was more painfully obvious to see than the daggers in your eyes. What else could it be?

“You’re jealous.”

And that set you off.

“HA!” It almost hurt to laugh. “Jealous?!”

People could probably hear you inside the venue. But Suguru knew just what to say to get you to talk.

“This whole time, I thought you were upset because I left, but…you’re just jealous.”

You snorted. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

“What? You don’t think I earned this?”

“Who knows? Mommy buys you everything.”

“Woah,” he held up a hand and laughed, “Is that what this is about?”

Your cheeks burned hot, but you had egg on your face and had just spilled the beans. But fire still raged in your chest.

“You could have had anything else. Anything! Anything in the world, but you just had to take this from me!”

“How was I supposed to know??” he cut you off, “You stopped talking to me.”

You felt a pang and fell silent—flurries of unread texts, unopened Snaps, and missed calls played in both of your minds.

“How was I supposed to know anything? How was I supposed to have anything without making you feel bad?”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Without me, you’d probably still be sitting on that dusty ass porch (you loved that porch), watching everyone go and fucking live life.”

“I was like 7.”

“9.” You rubbed the blooming goosebumps on your arms.

“Whatever, you think I owe you or something? You want a ‘thank you’?”

His tone made you shift, but you puffed up your chest.

“No, I don’t need a thank you." Your eyes narrowed. “I’m just not that impressed.”

Oh?

He scoffed, backing away with a smirk, arms swinging as he looked away then back at you. “You’re full of it.”

“You’re not that talented.”

He cocked his head, raising a brow. You were questioning his talent—clearly emotional and spewing lies—but it was a shot at his reputation nonetheless.

His smirk faltered as he clasped his hands. “You wanna go?” And then he got closer. Your breath caught as he studied your face, his left arm shooting out to frame you, pinning you into the corner.

The heat radiating off his body should have been a comfort in the frosty air, but fuck, you also felt other things that raced your heart and made you hate yourself.

He leaned over you. “How would you like to eat your words? Fried? Or sautéed?”

His eyes bore into yours, daring you to buck up or back down. But just because he finally had the balls to challenge you and take up space didn't mean you were intimidated.

He was the same little boy he'd always been.

And you were quick to remind him.

“Bite me, Get—”

Instead, he kissed, capturing your lips in a way that shot electricity down your spine and stole the breath and shriek right out of your body.

In an instant, you swore your pupils morphed into hearts. For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more, to make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him.

Knees weak, you nearly staggered, scrambling for the walls to keep you up, but was saved by his hand cradling your hip to hold you. Keep you. Protect you. Your heart burst.

You pulled away, eyes heavy. Leaving a sliver of space between your lips to see your heated breaths mingling in the chilly air as he rested his forehead against yours. Softly, you cradled his face in your hand, feeling waves of longing swell through your body—his had already burst. Then you slapped him.

“How’s that for poetry?” And left.

extended angel's note: this story took a TOTALLY different turn from what i originally planned (thanks Mac Miller) but omg it's sO much better and kinda fits into all of the sugu angst i have planned (oh how i love to hurt myself so). this story in particular was supposed to be like all smut and no exposition but um…things happen 😅 sO, all of the low-angst, ‘enemies’ to lovers lives in part 1, with a focus on the resolution in part 2: lovers who give in and chose each other arc while remaining focused on my original goal of making a smut that spotlights and actualizes realistic sex. learning each other, listening, patiently growing, and choosing.

#bluuharem #God is Fair #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk poc reader #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru smut #jjk smut #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #anime fanfic

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ur-local-wizard · 3 months ago

Text

Ink & Ivy

When you start a seemingly regular shift at Ink & Ivy, a new bookstore, an old friend's prank backfires.

fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!!! brother's best friend (kinda? like 2 sentences), graduated au, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, i think that's it

w/c: 1k

masterlist

a/n: sorry this took so long to put out! it's just my first fic I'm putting out there so i was getting really finicky

The ding of the front door rings through the book shop. Icy wind blows at your hair, abruptly being cut off as the door shuts behind you. Relishing in the warmth of the fire burning in the corner of Ink & Ivy’s front room, your footsteps sound off the creaky wooden floors.

The place smells like parchment and coffee, and as you walk down the hall to the employee’s break room, you pause as a shelf catches your eye. It looks oddly empty. “Why didn’t Susan restock last night?” You whisper to yourself as you resume your walk to the break room. Susan Bones was a fellow Hufflepuff during your time at Hogwarts, and although you two never talked during school – your brother Theo always dragging you along to participate in some stupid prank – you two became good acquaintances after you applied for this job.

After shedding your winter attire in the break room, you clock in. The hours tick by, and that empty shelf keeps nagging at you. Shooting a glance out the window, you determine that now is a good time to journey to the stockroom. It looks like nobody is going to venture in any time soon, so you might as well do something useful.

The door to the storeroom squeaks as it opens, and you stop in your tracks. A head of curly brown hair was poking through a window. “What the fuck-”

He looks up, and you instantly recognize your brother’s best friend. It’s Mattheo, the boy who would always tease you at school. You haven’t seen him since you graduated three months ago.

“Oh- Well- I-” He stutters, clearly caught off guard.

“Mattheo, you don’t even work here. Get out of the damn window so you can explain yourself.”

You watch as he awkwardly maneuvers himself through the window, dusting himself off as he stands up to his full height. You can’t help but giggle when you see his sour expression.

“What?” He asks, his tone defensive.

“Nothing. You’re just ridiculous. But I’m not surprised; you have been since we met in first year.”

After reading a label on a box and making sure it’s the right one, you pick it up and begin to walk back to the front room of the shop. Surprised, Mattheo scurries after you.

“I wanted to play a little prank,” he explains as the two of you walk down the short hallway. You stop in front of the empty shelf from earlier and set the box down, intent on restocking it. “And I haven’t seen you all summer. Would it be weird to say that I missed you?” He asks sheepishly, making you stop in your tracks, looking over at the man next to you.

Putting the book you were holding back in its box, and you study his expression. He looks embarrassed. Maybe a little nervous, even. “Why?” You ask, ignoring the hope fluttering in your heart.

You’ve had a silly crush on him ever since he bought you an expensive quill you wanted in sixth year. And now that he’s standing in front of you after visiting out of his own free will, saying you’re flustered would be an understatement.

“Your reactions are adorable when I tease you. And that one time when we replaced your wand with a trick one, your reaction was priceless.”

You swat his arm in frustration, retorting, “That wasn’t funny! McGonagall got so upset with me. I was afraid I was going to get detention because she thought I wasn’t taking class seriously.”

He laughs, but his expression seems to soften. “Sorry, princess. Didn’t realize it got you into trouble. But what can I say? I don’t regret it.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but stay quiet. It’s in the past now, no use saying anything. The two of you restock the shelves, and before you know it, the shelf is full again. “I’ll take this box back to the storeroom. You go back to the register, ‘mkay?”

You nod and let him take the box to the back, heading for the register like he said. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you again, his elbow in the table, hand perched in his palm.

You raise your eyebrow, “What now?”

“Just looking.” He stands back up. “I remember you used to read all the time... What have you been reading lately? Any books you’ve been eyeing?” He asks, looking at you expectantly.

You sigh and tell him what you’ve been reading, along with explaining that your TBR is endless. “I can’t decide on anything,” you complain.

“Well then send it to me. I’ll decide for you.” He pauses before speaking again. “You get commission, right?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?”

“Let me buy you a book.” He’s smiling like an idiot, and it makes you blush a bit.

“You’re kidding.”

“You think I’m kidding? Darling, I’ve had a thing for you since fifth year. I like buying you presents. Hasn’t it been obvious?” His blunt confession makes your jaw drop, cheeks burn, and butterflies break out of the cage you so painstakingly put them in. “And I would say you share the same feelings, if the blush on your cheeks is anything to go by.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you look for something to say, shocked by his bold words. “Why tell me now?” Your voice is quieter than you intended it to be, and his expression softens. He walks around the counter to stand next to you and gently puts a hand on your cheek, making you look up at him. “Theo isn’t here to pound me into a pulp for falling for you anymore,” he explains, chuckling. “And he can’t stop me from doing this." With that, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, holding your face in his hands. The kiss is chaste, nothing too crazy, as if he’s afraid of pressuring you.

As he pulls away, you look at him with wide eyes, watching as he grins at you like a school boy. “So what book do you want me to buy?”

Ty for reading! I hope you liked it <3 Let me know if there's something I need to fix, and if you wanted to be added to the tag list let me know!!

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

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pinecipitation · 8 months ago

Note

Pine,,,, smiling friends headcanons, how do you think each of the boys would react to their crush saying they feel safe with them :> if not all of them, your boy Alan and Charlie and Pim (asking for us both im shaking)

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER HCS

FIRST OF ALL,,,, HAIIII TEDDYYYY :3 ❤️💛 HELLO WIFE HI LOML…

second of all YESSS SMILING FRIENDS CONTENT WE R SO BACKKK let me get to work ‼️

word count: around 1.2k

authors note: oh my god this was in the works for like a month, I be procrastinating really hard i’m sorry gang 😔🤞 also I’m so sorry alans is so short despite him being my favorite one I’m fighting for my life in here man

CHARLIE: (s1e6)

charlie… is almost relieved to hear it, honestly would immediately flip a switch and do the very most to KEEP you as safe as you can be- but hide it in a playful manner. would carry you for the rest of your life if you asked, just because you inflated his ego.

The two of you are almost halfway in the enchanted forest, you walking in front of Charlie as you hold a little makeshift map in front of the two of you. The whole time Charlie is pointing out little shortcuts, you erasing and drawing paths over and over on the paper until a particularly strong gust of wind blow it away from the two of you, his shocked mouth open and yours would’ve opened if the pencil wasn’t still in your mouth. You didn’t want to say it, but you felt a little aggravated at him for losing your focus like that.

You stop to let him speed up in front of you, the two of you continuing onwards in silence before he speaks.

“Listen… I-“

“It’s fine, you go and I follow. I trust you.”

The minute those words left your mouth, Charlie immediately stops and turns to look at you, the clinks and clanks of his armor making it almost comedic.

“What?”

“…I said you could lead the way?-“

“No,” he shakes his head, the helmet shifting with him, “After that.”

You look at him quizzically, your arms awkward by your side as you look to the side then to him again.

“I trust you?”

What you couldn’t see was Charlie internally squealing like a little girl, happy that someone like you can allow themselves to be so carefree around him. Except you weren’t just someone; he’s unknowingly had a thing for you long enough to where it’s embarrassing that he hasn’t made a move. But, somehow, you telling him that made him understand why he got so nervous around you. Why he always felt let down whenever you had a different mission that day and couldn’t hang with him and Pim. Why he always slightly pulled aside the seat next to him in the office just so you’d sit next to him instead of across.

He finally realized he liked you.

But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

What he did do, however, was immediately grin and flex, his armor audibly showing him move as if he were showing off in a gym mirror.

“Well of course you do, I’d be concerned if you didn’t think a hero like me could protect you. I mean, look at me,” he plays along, successfully earning a chuckle from you before you roll your eyes and shift the bag on your shoulder before you keep moving ahead.

“Alright, hero- hey-!” Your joking manner was cut short as Charlie picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder as his laugh rockets off the trees around the two of you.

Your giggles and pleas to be let down drowned out as he thought about that sentence once more, thinking about what to do to hopefully hearing it again another time.

PIM: (s1e4)

pim….. he’d be so happy, would internally have a little panicked spongebob brain moment but on the outside he’s a stuttering blushing mess. as if he isn’t pink enough.

“Don’t worry, i’ll use this rock to mark the trees- we can find our way back easy!”

Pims words seemed like an echo, his happy go easy personality twenty minutes ago almost feeling like a warning now that the two of you crossed that bridge. The two of you just barely escaped the rain, logs and sticks discarded as the rickety cabin door you called shelter slammed shut.

You were both dripping, Pims cowboy outfit making wet stretching noises every time he stretched his leg or raised his arm. Your outfit was also drenched, a small rip or two from the thorns you pulled away from on the run here.

You were still kneeled over catching your breath as the thunder pursued outside, Pim shakingly clearing his throat before looking up at you with disappointed eyes.

“Listen,… I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it would rain or anything but even then I shouldn’t have taken us across the bridge, and now it’s my fault we’re here-,” he begins, his wet hat now in his hands as he stares down at his cowboy spurs. He only really looked up once he hears you interrupted him with a laugh, a sound he immediately feels his cheeks redden to.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain. We’ll be okay- plus, I feel safe with you. I know we’ll make it back fine.”

You were facing down trying to wring the water out of your hair and costume, thinking nothing of it, but to Pim?

To Pim, it meant everything.

He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he stares at you with his mouth slightly ajar, the redness in his cheeks instantly spreading to his nose and ears. It took two or three tries for him to get his words out, the clothes on him somehow feeling tighter the more he tried to express himself.

“You… you trust me??” The way his meek voice instantly made you straighten up and look at him, the barely there water in his eye almost making you feel guilty for saying it.

Immediately you went to go hold him, your hands wrapping around his back as he listens to you giggle out a ‘Of course! Pim, are you okay?’ and he nods in return. His hands interlock together behind your back, his cheek on your shoulder as he thanks you.

ALAN: (s2e3)

alan… my wife.. would definitely think about asking if you’re SURE. in that case, he’s taken it upon himself to keep his eyes on you like a HAWK, unfortunately intimidating everyone around the two of you.

You seem to feel oddly safe perusing the streets of CrimeVille, thinking back on everyone’s warnings of how dangerous the place was. This is too easy, you think, feeling like everyone was just exaggerating the state of where you two were. What you didn’t realize, however, was Alan shooting everyone the stink eye of the century as he walks behind you.

It wasn’t too long ago when you two left the OfficeCrap, the following conversation unexpected as you both walked out.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want you going to that part of town…” Alan mumbles, the soft mechanic noise of the sliding door behind you helping end his sentence. You only shake your head, shushing him before pronouncing how you’ll be fine, and you trust him to protecting you if anything.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the only thing Alan’s been thinking about since you left. Fortunately for Alan, being tall and having a somewhat stoic resting facial expression, he was very easy to intimidate anyone looking at you.

He almost walked like your shadow, hands in his pocket as he walks over you like a protective red totem, his blue tie occasionally brushing the top of your head as he looms over everything.

#pine smiles ⍋#smiling friends #alan smiling friends #charlie smiling friends #pim smiling friends #pim pimling #charlie dompler #alan red #smiling friends headcanons #smiling friends x reader #smiling friends fanart #smiling friends glep #pride month #lgbt pride #writers on tumblr

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njstokkis · 3 months ago

Text

paradise

Kim minji x gn!reader

synopsis: a quiet day at home spent with food and laughter.

word count: 1k+

warnings: fluff; kim minji being domestic; overall just kinda lovey-dovey; horrible grammar, HORRIBLE HORRIBLE grammar (im so sorry); kinda proofread (?); idk i wrote this on my phone at 4 in the morning; short as hell mb :')

a/n: hiiii, this is my first time posting here, trying to build up my confidence in the writing department 😔, and i thought why not start with something nice like this, it's probably not any good but I tried. thank you in advance for reading!!!

the small breeze sifts through the half opened windows, curtains flowing slightly from the calm wind gently blowing against it. sunlight beamed into the crevices of your eyelids, slowly seeping into your senses.

you shift, attempting to cover yourself with your blanket with knitted brows, you reach over to the other side of the bed, patting it aimlessly in search of your lover to cling onto, but you find nothing in the midst.

letting out a low grumble at the loss, you bring your hands to your face. digging your palms in your eyes, attempting to rub the sleep out. still you let out multitudes of groans and sighs as you stretch, bones emiting a mild cracking noise as you reach up with your hands, mouth agape as you yawn.

you let out a puff of air as you relax against the comfort of your bed, flopping down your limbs dramatically. the warmth of your blanket suddenly not providing as much consolation as it did. you blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh sunlight through the drawn-open curtains. you look over to the side, hoping that there's a chance that you just dreamt of her not being beside you, but alas, you find nothing, her side of the bed cold in contrast to the current sunlight.

you reluctantly pull the blankets off your body, shivering at the sudden change of temperature. sitting up, you rub your palms together, trying to create warmth as you yawn a second time. after hyping yourself up to get out of your 'bed nest', you swing your feet off your bed. your sole touching the cold hardwood flooring of your apartment. you hiss, immediately lifting your feet back up, glaring your bleary eyes down at the floor in betrayal upon ultimately finding your fuzzy slippers all the way across the room. cursing under your breath, you narrowly navigate the floor tiles 'the floor is lava' style, keeping yourself up on your tippy toes.

slipping into your source of warmth, you sluggishly swing the bedroom door open, dragging yourself forward to find your lover.

you sniff at the slight scent of food wafting through the air. you immediately perk up at the quiet whirling of the coffee machine and the sounds of music softly playing, you venture towards the source of the clatter.

you find minji in the open kitchen, back turned towards you, dressed in a casual t-shirt and shorts, one side of her collar unadjusted as it hangs off the edge of her shoulder. she faces the stove, her hands carefully adjusting the pan. you smile unconsciously as you see the Korean girl bopping her head along with the beat of the music, occasionally doing small little dance moves. nose scrunched as she focuses on not burning the food. chuckling quietly to yourself, you walk over to her, wrapping your arms around her middle and nuzzling you head in her neck.

she yelps, flinching slightly, "woah, you scared me!"

you let out a laugh, giggling at her reaction, "oh c'mon you big baby," you tease, voice raspy from sleep, "whatcha makin'?"

"tteokbokki," she smiles, pushing her glasses up slightly (UGHHHH omg sorry) with one hand, and the other gently caressing your knuckles.

you let out a content sigh, happy to be free of the burdens of working for a day, closing your eyes and melting further into minji as she continues her ministrations on the pan, using a spatula to poke the rice cakes once in a while.

"you okay, love?" minji says after a period of silence. glancing behind her to catch a glimpse of your face.

"mm...just wanna stay like this for a while," you grumble tiredly, "still waking up..."

minji chuckles, "well you're gonna have to move a little cause im done cooking,"

you let out a small hum, but still clings onto minji as she stiffly moves to plate the food, thanks to the human attached to her back. you giggle tiredly as she struggles to move, grunting dramatically with every step she takes, "dear..." she playfully whines as you finally give up, giving her one last squeeze as you release her from your hold, letting her continue filling the bowl with your respective breakfasts.

while she was occupied with the food, you get busy setting the table for the two of you, the action slowly becoming a tradition for you both as you alternate on setting the table and making breakfast on your off days.

you move to a drawer in the kitchen, pulling it open as you idly search for the utensils needed. ruffling around, you pick up forks and napkins and rinse them, setting them down on the coffee table.

you sniff, the sweet smell of tteokbokki fills the room as you move to sit on the couch, plopping down on the plush material, making sure the utensils set in front of you were in orderly fashion. you look at minji's form in anticipation as she (finally) finishes plating the food.

she walks towards the coffee table while balancing your cups and bowls and you move slightly from your place on the couch to help guide her hands to the table safely, making sure she doesn't burn herself accidentally.

she sits next to you on the couch and immediately leans her head on your shoulder, letting out a small groan, entertwining your hands together. you chuckle, tilting your head to rest on hers aswell, but not before placing a chaste kiss on her head.

"eat?" you mumble after a small while, minji nods her head in response as she moves to pick up a fork, digging into her food while you do the same, with music softly playing in the background.

you nod slightly, smiling as you're impressed by her cooking, taking more frequent bites. almost finishing your meals, minji nods suddenly, and quite agressively, a satisfied hum slipping past her lips as she smiles, you look at her questioningly as she points to the food, "i really outdid myself here," she says smugly, wiggling her eyebrows at you, expecting a compliment.

"hmmm..." you pretend to think as you take another bite, "it could use more salt..." immediately, minji let's out a dragged out protest as she pushes your shoulder. you laugh heartily while she continues moving you back and forth by your shoulders, continuing her complaints.

"ahh, ahh, I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" you grinned.

"say it tastes good!" she tackles you on the couch, holding onto eachother as you cackle.

"it tastes good, it tastes good!" you get out despite the numerous attacks you've received.

its until then does she release you, chest heaving from laughter as she collapses on top of you, both still a giggling mess.

you wrap your arms around her, smiling softly as you both calm down, until only soft breathing is heard. she sighs and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing a kiss there with the upmost gentleness, "every morning I fall in love with you all over again."

and just like that, with meals forgotten, you both relish in the feeling of being in love, and being loved.

#newjeans #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #new jeans imagines #minji #minji x reader #minji imagines #kpop imagines #njstokkis' writing

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dustpages · 4 months ago

Text

Baby Blue Love

" Plié, plié, and a final pirouette." Mr. Lafayette instructed us to wrap up the endless last class of the week at the Opera de Paris.

Every step I took towards the dressing room was painful, my legs especially were wobbling given the intensity of this week's training. It was a year since I joined the Opera as a corps de ballet member, but it didn't make it any easier to cope with the sore muscles.

I wrapped myself in my long puffed jacket and walked out of the Opera Garnier. It had rained all day long and the wind was hauling in the old cobblestone streets of the city, it was baltic.

I carefully descended the stoned stairs of the Opera, making my way towards the metro station. I couldn't bear to stay any longer than was necessary in that awful weather.

The streets were almost deserted given the hour the training ended. I was concentrating on not falling on the slippery pavement when a feeble cry made me divert my eyes from my own feet.

I followed the sobbing sound finding just around a corner a small kid who was trying to protect himself from the wind. His face was angelic, his eyes were piercing blue and his hair was raven black and messy, it made him look like an abandoned puppy. He looked so helpless that my heart immediately melted. He couldn't be more than five years old.

The little boy stopped crying when he saw me approaching and looked at me curiously, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his dirty shirt. He had a blue blanket wrapped around him and some bread crumbs in his pocket. My heart sank at the sight of the poor thing. "Where are you from?" I asked him in my best French, even though he was not French.

" I don't know." He said in a broken French accent, and then in a strong British accent. " I haven't got a clue."

I kneeled down beside him and gave him a soft smile. "Well, why don't you come with me? You can have some hot chocolate and we'll see what we can do."

His blue eyes lightened up at the mention of hot chocolate. "Really?"

" Of course." I said holding out my hand for him to grab. He held it strongly as if he was sure that I was going to be his saviour. I felt my heart clenching at the thought of him being all alone on the cold street. He was such a small creature, I wanted to protect him from everything, I wanted to keep him safe in my arms and never let go given that the world seemed to have already thrown him a

harsh blow.

We entered the metro and we found ourselves in a carriage, sitting on two seats. He kept shaking clearly intimidated by the people around us. I held his hand, which was freezing, trying to calm him down; it was pointless to do small talks in that context.

We reached our stop and I led him towards my flat, which was in the same arrondissement of the Opera.

I opened the door and welcomed him into my house, a newly renovated Haussmann flat with a Versailles parquet spreading all around.

It was minimalistic furbished with white walls, and modern pieces of furniture. I pushed him inside, letting him warm up a bit. "You must be cold." I said unbuttoning my jacket, and giving it to him.

I walked into the kitchen to make him some hot chocolate, it was the first thing that came to my mind in that situation. I knew nothing about him and I knew he would be hungry, but I wanted something warmer and sweeter than a normal meal.

When I returned to the living room he was sitting on my sofa, with my jacket on his shoulders. It was huge for him, it swallowed his small frame entirely, but it gave him a sense of warmth. He was so cute that I couldn't help myself but laugh at the sight.

I handed him the mug of hot chocolate and he devoured it hungrily, leaving some drops of the chocolate on his lips. I felt myself laughing again at the sight, I couldn't help myself he was the epitome of cuteness.

" You are gonna stay here for the night, and tomorrow we will figure out what to do." I asserted composing myself.

He just nodded at me. " Time for a warm bath." I took his hand in mine and led him to the bathroom.

I filled the tub with water and added some bath salts, letting the sweet aroma fill the room. " Can you undress yourself?" I asked, feeling a bit embarrassed at the prospect of undressing such a little child.

" Affirmative ma'am." He answered and I left him in the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I went into the guest room and retrieved some of my old clothes, that I had left there for my occasional guests. I brought them back into the bathroom and knocked gently. "Are you done?" I whispered.

"Yes."

I opened the door. He was standing naked in front of me, his small body dripping with water. His hair was glued to his forehead, and he had some water drops still on his body. His blue eyes looked at me shyly; he had his hands covering his pelvis area. "Don't be ashamed.” I said and took him by the hand.

I handed him one of my old T-shirts and a pair of leggings. They were a bit too large for his small frame but he looked adorable nonetheless. He smiled shyly at me and I felt again my heart clenching. I took a towel and dried his hair, trying not to touch him more than necessary. His smell was that of innocence, it smelled like milk and bread and something sweeter.

I dried his hair and helped him in getting dressed. He was still shaking so I grabbed his hand again, letting him feel my warmth. "Do you want to sleep with me?" I questioned him not wanting him to sleep all alone in one of my guest rooms.

" If you don't mind." he stated after a second of deep thought.

"No, I don't mind at all." I smiled and we went into my bedroom. We slipped under the blanket together and I wrapped him in my arms, giving him a gentle hug. His body felt so tiny against mine, I felt the urge to protect him from the world, I could have been the one making his life better.

I wasn't too old respect to him, I would have turned eighteen next March. I could have been his legal tutor, big sister or mum, I didn't care about the etiquette.

" Good night." He murmured, his voice still hoarse from the crying.

" Good night." I whispered and closed my eyes. I could feel his eyes on me, I could feel his breath on my neck, but I tried to fall asleep anyway.

It took me some time, but I finally fell into a deep sleep lulled by the rhythm of his breath and his tiny hand resting on my shoulder. I didn't even wake up when he snuggled closer to me, letting his head rest on the crook of my neck. I just felt his tiny breath on my skin and I was gone.

I woke up in the middle of the night due to a scream, the little creature beside me was trembling all over, he was still asleep. He was crying and murmuring in his dream, his words were indistinguishable but his fear was clear.

Holding him tight, I took him in my arms, rocking him from side to side as I would do with a doll. I whispered some comforting words, telling him that everything was okay, that he was safe now. That he would never be alone again.

His eyes slowly opened, they were hazy with tears, he looked up at me with the expression of a lost puppy. " It's okay." I whispered holding his gaze with mine. "You're safe." I continued, I tried not to break eye contact, so he could feel my sincerity.

I wanted him to see that I was real, I wasn't part of his nightmare.

After some time his breathing calmed down and he fell asleep again his tiny hand was grabbing mine, he was squeezing it softly. I wrapped myself around his small body, trying to give him the warmth he was craving.

In the next few days with the help of my parents, I managed to adopt him even though I wasn't eighteen yet. My parents were the ones on paper who were his tutors.

He began living with me. I had to manage my time between the endless hours of dancing, my private school where I was about to graduate, my baby, and my boyfriend Claude.

I had mirrors at home. I was well aware of my appearance, I've always been pretty and growing older, I blossomed. Dancing for hours and hours each day gave me a slender and toned body. I could tell to have everything to strike hearths here and there, and I surely did, even though none of them had ever conquered mine.

Claude had been with me for barely a few months, he was a bit older than me and not even particularly funny.

He was handsome though, tall with blonde hair and a nice body. Sex was satisfying as well, he was gifted but he lacked passion.

We were having a late dinner in my flat, I was late from the dance class and my baby was already sleeping in his room.

" Do you want some more?" I asked him pointing to the plate of chicken in the middle of our table. He shook his head no.

" I don't get why you are ruining your life taking care of that little shit." he asserted. " Last time I got him while he was playing with me shoes, they were bloody expensive."

" He is just a kid, and you should be more patient." I retorted. " You scolded him for nothing; he cried all night."

" He is just a whimper." He offended my son.

" Would you keep going losing time or we fuck?" I tried to change the topic.

He didn't lose any time ripping my white wool carding apart, the silver buttons flew all around the kitchen. I had on a black and white checked skirt and white cotton short stockings. He cleared the table throwing plates and cutleries on the marble floor, cracking sounds echoed in the silence of the flat.

Claude made me bend on the table, he positioned me behind me and lifted my skirt over my back.

" You'll get what you asked for." he spat on his dick and pushed into me, using his fingers to pull my panties aside. I felt the tip of his dick sliding into my pussy, stretching me as he entered me fully. I moaned at the sudden intrusion, but he just started pumping inside me not waiting for me to adjust to his size. He took my hips and began pounding me with full force, I cried out in pain, I was not prepared. My legs were already hurting from the hours of dance and my pussy was dry, he was tearing me apart. I could hear him groaning behind me, I knew he was close to his peak.

" Mina, I wetted the bed." I heard my son’s voice; he was standing naked on the kitchen door frame crying.

" You disgusting whimper get out of here." Claude yelled making my baby cry even more.

He gave me a few more pumps before I was able to push him back. " You are a dickhead." I offended him.

" At least I'm naturally gifted down there, not like that thing and his microscopic dick." he pointed to my son who was crying desperately.

I dashed to my son kneeling in front of him, letting my skirt fall down over my ass. I gathered him in a hug, trying to comfort him. He was trembling all over and he was looking at Claude with scared eyes.

" Claude get the fuck out of here. We are done, for good." I stated standing up with my baby in my arms.

" Well, I guess we won’t see again." He laughed grabbing his dick and shoving it in my face. “But it’s your loss nonetheless."

I pushed him away, disgusted and closed the door on his face.

As soon as we were alone my baby stopped crying, I felt a wave of relief. " Everything is gonna be okay." I promised him. " Now let's get you some clean clothes and a new pair of undies."

I carried him into his bedroom and changed him into a new pair of clothes. I cleaned up the mess Claude made in the kitchen and then we had some tea with biscuits in the living room, my baby was fully awake unluckily I was dreaming of sleeping.

" Mum, what does it mean ' his microscopic dick'?" he quoted what that bastard of my ex told him. I laughed a bit at the way he pronounced the curse word, and I realised that I should have been more careful of what I said in front of him.

" Baby, there's nothing wrong with your body. You are still young and you'll grow up as time goes by." I explained to him. " That moron was trying to hurt you, he was jealous of your beauty." I hugged him tight in my arms.

He looked up at me curiously. " Am I really beautiful?" his voice sounded way too cute.

" Of course you are, you look just like me." I replied smiling at him.

I could see his eyes lightening up at my words. " I'm gonna sleep with you tonight." he asserted, he was trying to get under my blanket.

I laughed and agreed, letting him climb on the bed beside me. We cuddled under the blanket, and we soon fell asleep.

We both slept like babies, my son's little hand was holding mine, and his head was resting on the crook of my arm. I felt him moving around in the middle of the night and I opened my eyes finding him on top of me.

" Mum." he whispered his voice was so tiny and cute.

" Yes?" I replied my voice hoarse from sleep.

" Milk." he uttered moving his lips on my naked chest.

I realized what he meant and laughed at his innocence. " I can't give you milk." I whispered.

His tiny and soft lips parted taking my nipple in, he had no clue what he was doing but it was feeling fantastic.

He was sucking eagerly looking for milk, I could feel my nipples getting hard in his mouth. I was letting him do what he wanted, I was just enjoying the moment.

He stopped after a while looking at me curiously. I could read the confusion on his face, he didn't understand why there wasn't milk.

" Keep sucking baby, a magical fluid will come out if you do a good job." I was turned on and I was eager for more.

He nodded and started sucking me again, he took the other nipple in his mouth looking for a better luck.

His tongue was darting in and out of my nipple, he was making it hard as stone. His magnificent blue eyes were showing determination, I closed my arms around him. I could feel my pussy wetting and pulsating, I had never been so aroused.

His little body was hot on my skin. I used one hand to play with my clit, rubbing it slowly while his mouth was still busy with my nipples, with the other I gently touched his hair.

He was giggling under my touch, my hand moved down his hand rubbing on his small back. His ass was round and perfect, it called for me to be spanked.

I gave it a gentle slap. My son, who has kept doing his job adamantly, bit my nipple, sending a powerful wave of pleasure down my body.

My cunt couldn't take it anymore, it convulsed around my fingers making me cum. I squirted on my bed making the sheets wet.

" Mum wetted the bed, like me." he laughed not understanding the whole thing.

" Don't worry baby, you did a terrific job." I kissed his forehead. " Can I peck your lips, please?”

He nodded shyly.

" Close your eyes." I ordered, and he obeyed.

I pressed my lips on him, they were soft and tasted like milk, I felt like I was eating him. He gasped and opened his mouth, I took advantage of that and slipped the tip of my tongue in, dancing it against his. He let out a moan and wrapped his arms around me, he started kissing me back with the same passion. He was letting me devour him, not that he could do otherwise.

I took my time, I wanted him to feel good. I wanted to kiss him to make him feel loved and appreciated.

I could feel the love for him growing up in my heart; he was my baby.

….

Long story short, till the present time. Twelve years later.

I was the epitome of grace and beauty, not my words but of the Opera director. I had made my way through the vertical ladder of the ballet corps de ballet, becoming one of the best and most renowned dancers of the Opera de Paris, I had earned a lot of respect and money.

Every night I performed I had a few suitors waiting for me at the exit of my changing room. Praising my mesmerizing face, my toned and long legs and my perfectly round butt. They would offer me the moon, but I only cared about getting home to my little boy.

Nothing could compare to how beautiful I felt when he was around. He had grown up with the most piercing blue eyes and the same raven-black hair as mine. His smile was devastating and he had the body of a dancer.

His smile made my knees weak, his voice made my soul sing. He was the epitome of perfection, and he was all mine.

I had always thought that I had adopted him to save him, but now I realized that I had done it for myself. I had done it to save myself. From loneliness, from boredom, from a life without a purpose more than dancing.

I had routed him to become a classic dancer since he got adjusted to his new life with me, I tried my best to keep an eye on him without interfering with his development. I wasn't a teacher and the serious discipline I've been subjected to when I was younger had scarred me, and I didn't want to pass those scars on him.

Now that he was seventeen years old, I could tell he had become a good dancer. He was still raw in some areas, but in general I was proud of him.

We were eating dinner at the dining table, it was another snowy night in Paris. His beautiful blue eyes stared at me for a good second, I had my hair still styled and the same fancy make-up that I wore all day for the commercial that the company was about to release before Christmas to promote the ballet activities.

" Mina, you look breathtaking." he complimented me. It was rare for him to express his own thoughts.

My cheeks flushed crimson red, my body became all tingly, and my breath caught in my throat.

" Thank you.” I murmured feeling the blush spreading all over my face and neck.

" It was just the truth." He declared with a small smirk. I swallowed hard trying not to make the situation too awkward.

He was wearing a white shirt and a black pair of jeans, his black hair was messy and his blue eyes sparkled in the light. "I have to ask you something." he said nervously. " May I?" he added staring at me shyly.

" Of course you may." I answered encouragingly.

" I'm facing a problem, a sort of dilemma." he began. " It's getting more and more daunting for me to dance."

" What are you talking about? You are still a bit inexperienced but still very young." I confronted him.

" It's not about that. I can't help myself not to get unreasonably hard down there while I'm dancing with all the other girls. I don't get it, I try to stay relaxed and all but it doesn't change anything. It hurts." he told me purring out his thoughts.

" Oh." I responded. I was well aware that this day would have come, his hormones were more agitated than the blizzard outside the windows.

" First of all don't question your career, the problem you encountered is utterly normal for all young men." I explained him.

I was his centre of gravity, it wasn't concerning for me to talk to him about his sexuality.

" I guess you are aware of what is occurring in your body, you are too brilliant not to know it." I continued.

" We talk about it at school about sex and stuff, but all of this happening to me is getting out of hand." he replied.

I thought about what to answer him. I was gonna be the one through this path but I reckoned that to maximize the outcome and reduce the awkwardness between us, it was more 'efficient' to let him watch an experienced couple have sex in real life with him.

" I do reckon for your first time experiencing sex in real life is better if you see a navigate couple doing it, more than having me telling you what to do or not to do." I affirmed. " My friend Momo is, for what I know, in a kind of open relationship with a man or more. I'm gonna ask her to set up a kind of masterclass for us in the next days."

His eyes sparkled, he was aware of who Momo was and how hot she looked.

" Are you sure Momo will be down to do it?" he gulped.

" It doesn't hurt to ring her and ask." I replied standing up to call her.

To confirm my idea she accepted immediately to have sex in front of us, she has always been a bit of a show-off. I had to give her that she created a career around her attitude, becoming one of the main attractions of the Crazy Horse.

I walked back to my baby who was looking at me with interest. " She is down to do it, the day after tomorrow it's her free day so she is down to help us." I explained.

He stood up and hugged me. " Thank you. You have always provided for me, I adore you." his voice was low and sweet as the candy floss.

I melted like snow under the summer sun and reciprocated the hug pulling him closer to me. His warm breath was on my neck and his hands were wrapped around my waist, I felt him pressing his body against mine.

It was the first time that he had touched me with so much affection. I couldn't stop my body from reacting to him and my nipples became hard. The place between my legs became wet and tingly.

I pecked his soft lips, he parted them and our tongues met in a dance. His kisses were soft and sweet, they made me feel so warm inside.

I pulled out before things could go out of control. " Wait for a few days and then we will figure it out what to do." I asserted. " Be aware that I kissed because I really wanted to."

I broke and walked back into the kitchen sensing his eyes on me as I walked away.

The D-day came fast, Momo had told me to go to her place at ten sharp. I had dinner with my baby, he was tensed like a violin cord.

I was wearing a simple outfit composed of a black T-shirt, a black short skit and a pair of black heels.

I had wavy hair for the occasion, and my legs were on full display. He had stared at them since I wore this outfit before dinner, I was very conscious of the effect I was having on him.

" Stop fidgeting, with the food. We are gonna be late if you don't get a move." I opined cleaning the last bits of food on my plate.

He almost choked on the mouthful of spaghetti he was swallowing. He had to cough for a while and his eyes became glassy from the effort. " Sorry, sorry." he managed to say. His face was red from the effort and his blue eyes were shining, he looked like an angel.

I laughed at the sight and walked towards the door. " Come on. Let's go." I told him grabbing my coat from the coat rack.

We walked in silence until we got to Momo's door, it was raining. "Rules are simple, we watch and you don't touch anything that isn't consented to by Momo or me." I warned him.

He nodded while we took the lift to her front door. Momo welcomed us wearing a ridiculous cream corset and white panties, her tits were barely contained by the corset and the rest of the body was naked.

" Welcome to Momo's house." She said spinning around to let us see her body.

" What a show-off." I affirmed in my mind. My baby was stunned by her look, he didn't even step into the flat. I had to drag him inside pulling his arm.

" Good evening Mina." a low and seductive voice called me. I diverted my gaze from Momo meeting Jean-Pierre's eyes.

" Bugger. Why did you call him in for tonight?" I hissed speaking to Momo.

Jean-Pierre was a casting member at the Crazy Horse. His skin was black as a night sky, his body was muscular and well-defined. Not to mention he had one of the most impressive dicks I've ever seen. It was a beast, it would be hard to believe that someone could manage to swallow it entirely. He had a very specific role in Momo's sex life and he didn't even need to explain. He was the bull in her stable and she was the cowgirl.

"Don't be a prude Mina. I know you have indulged some nights, over the last years with him." she replied. " You know he more than a good fuck."

I got red in the face feeling embarrassed. My baby eyes were on me and Jean-Pierre, I could see his brain trying to elaborate on what he had just heard.

Momo was right, I couldn't deny her affirmation. I had met him a few times in the past in those moments when I needed to release the stress without having to worry about any repercussions.

" Shall we begin." I tried to change the subject in question.

Momo nodded leading us towards the principal bedroom. The light was dimmed and the room was filled by the scent of jasmine and lavender.

My baby walked towards me, he stood beside me and his body touched mine. I tried my best to ignore the reaction of my body, but it was hard to ignore him, especially given how he looked. He was so handsome that I wanted to kiss him all over his body.

Jean-Pierre and Momo got naked in a heartbeat, Momo walked towards us, giving a soft kiss on my lips and then she walked towards my baby and kissed him as well.

Jean-Pierre came next to Momo, his dick was already half hard and pointing towards the sky.

" Wanna touch it?" he smirked at me.

I ignored him, trying not to blush even more."Don't be a dick." Momo came to help me.

She grabbed his arms and pulled him towards the bed, leaving me and my baby to watch.

They started kissing each other passionately, their tongues entwined and their hands were all over each other's body. Momo moaned when Jean-Pierre's fingers started stroking her pussy. She was already dripping wet, her juices were leaking down her legs.

I glanced at my baby and I saw him watching the scene in front of him, his eyes were wide with wonder.

Jean-Pierre grabbed Momo by the hair pulling her head back and exposing her neck to him. He started kissing her neck and sucking on it. Momo started panting when he moved lower and sucked on her tits. His dick was fully hard now, I could see it rubbing against her pussy.

Momo tried to rub herself against it but he held her still. " I'll let you come when I want to." he murmured in her ear.

" Please Jean-Pierre." she begged.

He let her go and she knelt in front of his dick. She took it in her hands and started sucking on the head, she was drooling all over it. " You are such a good girl." he complimented her.

He pushed her head down making her take his dick as much as she could in her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, and her hair was covering his lower abdomen. His dick was so big it wasn't able to fit entirely in her mouth, it was leaking pre-cum on her lips and the floor.

" Good girl." Jean-Pierre moaned face-fucking her without any mercy. She gagged loudly, obviously in pain. " Swallow my cock." he commanded her.

She nodded and started bobbing her head, her lips were stretched to the limits around his shaft. She had tears running down her cheeks, she was struggling to take his dick in her mouth.

Jean-Pierre pulled her off him, she was gasping for air. " Go on all four on the bed." he commanded her.

She did as told. " Now I'll gonna make you come." Jean-Pierre promised. He positioned himself behind her and grabbed his dick with one of his hands. He rubbed it against her pussy and pushed the head in.

Momo started moaning loudly, he was pushing his cock in inch by inch, and her pussy was stretched to her limits to fit him.

He began pounding her aggressively from the beginning, not letting her inside get used to his shaft.

" Bastard." was the only word Momo was able to pronounce before screaming as his dick botted out.

Her pussy was dripping wet around him, she was already cumming. He kept thrusting in and out of her, his dick moving in a perfect rhythm.

" You are such a greedy little girl." he said grabbing her hips, to make her feel more of his cock.

" Yes, daddy." she moaned.

I could see the pleasure on her face, her tits bouncing at every thrust. She was dripping wet and her pussy was gaping around his dick. I couldn't help but feel myself getting wet at the sight of the two of them.

Jean-Pierre's hand reached down and rubbed her clit, making her cum again. She screamed his name and he kept fucking her ruthlessly.

" Baby, sex isn't just about being wild and rough as he is doing. If you truly love your partner you will be more sensible to her feelings and desires." I explained to my baby. " Don't forget to always ask for consent."

" Yes, I won't forget." he responded. My arm was wrapped around his shoulder forcing him to lay his head on me, his hair smelled of fresh grass and mint, it made me feel warm inside.

" Daddy, I want more." Momo screamed. Jean-Pierre picked up the pace of his thrusts, his breathing was heavy and his skin was glistening with sweat.

His dick popped out of Momo's pussy and he stroked it with his hand. Momo was shaking and trembling from the pleasure.

" Come on my face." Momo commanded him. He did as told, his cock spurted out a long stream of cum on her face and tits.

He laid down on the bed, his dick was still hard. He grabbed her by the hair and made her lick her own cum from his dick.

Momo obliged cleaning him entirely and sucking his cock once more, she took it in her mouth and started bobbing her head again.

His eyes were closed and he was panting, his hips were bucking towards her mouth. His dick grew even harder if it was possible.

" Swallow my cum." he ordered her.

Momo obeyed him and sucked him harder. He groaned and came in her mouth, filling her throat with his seed.

She swallowed everything he gave her and then licked his cock clean, she let him go when he was completely spent.

She crawled back to us and kissed me on the lips. " That was quite funny." She opined.

My son stared at her big tits with lust. His eyes were wide and his pupils dilated. I could feel him hard against me. He was still staring at Momo with hunger. " Go on." Momo said in a seductive tone. " Fuck me."

Jean-Pierre sat up, his eyes fixed on my baby's body. " Go on, he's your toy. Do with him as you please." Jean-Pierre declared.

He got up from the bed and walked towards the bathroom to clean himself.

My baby was still staring at Momo, he hadn't moved a muscle. " What are you waiting for?" Momo asked him. " Come on." she said spreading her legs.

" Don't rush him, he is still a virgin." I stated.

" Mum, I want you to be my first." he said cutely.

" I will baby, but now just go to Momo and have some fun." I incited him.

" Come here and fuck my tits." she declared squeezing her tits in her hand.

He walked towards her slowly, his blue eyes were on Momo and he was licking his lips. He dropped his trousers and his dick sprang out. He was hard and it was leaking of precum.

He knelt on the bed and grabbed Momo's tits, squeezing them hard. His dick started rubbing against Momo's body, he was already moaning.

" To be a white boy you got yourself a nice cock." Momo complimented him.

" Thank you." he answered shyly. He looked at me for a second before leaning in and kissing Momo on the lips.

His hips started bucking against hers and his cock was sliding up and down her body, leaving a trail of precum behind.

Momo pressed her tits together creating a narrower tunnel where my son was thrusting desperately. I could only imagine the sensations she was feelings having those big melons rubbing against his dick.

His moans were getting louder, his hands were grasping the bedboard, and she was letting him do as he pleased.

I felt myself wetting at the sight, it was so arousing to see him being pleasured like that. His body trembled after a good fifteen minutes, anticipating his climax.

Momo sensed it as well. " Lie on the bed, I'll finish you off with my mouth." she pushed him to lie on the mattress and got on top of him. She grabbed his cock in her hands and stroked for a few seconds before diving her head on it.

Her lips wrapped around his shaft and her tongue started licking it. She was sucking on him greedily, she knew how to do it. I felt my nipples growing hard at the sight.

He was moaning loudly and his hips were bucking up towards her mouth. He grabbed her head and pushed her further on his dick, making her take as much as she can.

" Swallow my cum." my son moaned, his eyes were shut tight.

She obeyed him and started sucking harder. My son's eyes flew open and he came in her mouth with a loud moan.

His cock spurted out jets of cum inside her mouth and she swallowed them all without leaving a drop. His cock twitched in her mouth for a few seconds more before she released it with a loud pop.

Momo crawled back to me, her lips and chin were covered with my son's cum. She grabbed me by the hair and pulled me in for a kiss. I could taste my son's seed on her tongue, it tasted sweet like a caramel.

"He tastes better than anyone I sucked before." she whispered in my ear. I could only agree with her assertion.

" Son, it's time to go home." I told him collecting his clothes scattered on the floor.

We dressed in silence and we went back to our place. My son was walking in silence, his head bowed.

We walked into my bedroom, his eyes locked on mine, he undressed himself again and he grabbed me by the waist, pushing me on the bed. I let him, I knew what he wanted.

He undressed me and started kissing me on my lips, his kiss was soft and gentle. I felt my body melting at the touch of his lips on mine.

His mouth moved down my body until it reached my pussy, I was already wet and aching to be filled.

He started licking my pussy, his tongue was dancing on my skin. I moaned loudly as he touched my clit with his tongue.

He was devouring my cunt savouring the juice that was licking out. The only thing I could do was to push his head deeper into me.

I came hard on his face, my juices gushed out, and he drank it all. He licked my pussy clean and then came to kiss me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue.

" Please fuck me, baby." I begged him, he looked hesitant for a moment.

" I'm afraid not to last enough inside of you." he breathed out.

He was so cute in this situation. " Just take me as you please and don't worry of anything else." I incited him.

He positioned himself between my legs and grabbed his cock in his hands, he rubbed it against my pussy, letting his precum mix with my own juices.

" Please." I begged him again. He pushed himself in, his dick stretching my pussy out so good.

He was gentle inserting inches by inches inside my cunt till he had buried himself completely inside me. I moaned at the sensation of being full, he felt so good inside me.

" Move, baby." I murmured. “I’m all yours."

He leaned on my body, resting his head on the crook of my neck, his breath was hot on my skin. He began thrusting in and out my body slowly, he was trying to last as long as he could.

" Harder." I whispered in his ear.

He obliged me picking up the pace and fucking me like an animal, his hips bucking wildly against mine. His balls were smacking my ass loudly and my tits were bouncing with every thrust.

I was in total bliss of pleasure, his dick was big enough to satisfy me completely without hurting too much.

" If you keep going like this, you are gonna make cum again." I purred into his ear obtaining a bite on my neck.

My hands scratched the soft skin of his back making him groan and sped up his pace, he was fucking in earnest.

"Oh fuck." I moaned wrapping my legs around his waist forcing him to go deeper in me. " I'm cumming." I screamed.

He fucked me through my orgasm, his dick twitching inside me, his pelvis grinding against mine.

" I can't hold it back anymore." He cried out. I kissed his lips passionately, taking control of my actions.

" My pussy is yours, fill me whenever you are ready." I whispered in his mouth.

He lost all the control he had. His lips sucked my lower lip like it was a sweet, his hips motioned wildly for two minutes more before erupting. He came copiously, ropes of cum spurting out of his dick and filling me entirely.

His thrusts slowed down until he came to rest inside of me, his dick still throbbing with pleasure. He broke our kiss, looking me in the eyes. He smiled shyly at me.

" Thank you, mum." he said softly.

" Anytime, baby." I responded and kissed his forehead.

He pulled out of me, his dick wet with my juice and his seed. He cleaned it on the sheet and then crawled in my arms, his head resting on my chest. I wrapped him in my arms holding him tight as he looked at me with love and devotion.

I kissed his head and looked at the digital alarm on my nightstand he had lasted a little less 10 minutes inside of me and he had made me cum. It wasn't a bad performance per se but it was far away from the best I've ever had.

" Good first time, for someone like you." I told him.

His body stiffened, his eyes didn't show love anymore. " Someone like me." he quoted my words. "I get what you are not saying."

He broke my hug and rolled out of the bed his face was a mask of sadness and anger.

" Baby you misunderstood me." I tried to defend myself by sitting on the bed.

" I did not. I've clearly seen with Momo and that man what someone well-endowed can get out of a woman. Someone like me isn't born with those genes." he remarked. " Speaking of genes, my biological parents literally abandoned me. You just tried to polish someone else's garbage." his voice was broken but he didn't cry. He seemed to truly believe what he was saying.

Bowing he left the room. No slamming of the door, no screaming, no crying, he was painfully calm.

I went to his door, which was closed, sobbing I stated. " All you said is wrong. You are my treasure."

I waited for a few minutes without getting any response, it was getting way to late not to sleep so I got back to my bed sobbing to sleep.

The day after I knew he had an early morning class at the Opera so I took my time to get there following my schedule of trainings.

I walked into the main dancing studio where almost all the dancers were rehearsing for the upcoming play.

" Come on. Do a proper Grand Jeté." Mr.Lafayette exclaimed.

I moved a little bit to watch who was jumping and my eyes landed on my son, who was in the middle of the jump when he met my gaze; losing control of his body. He landed crashing on the wooden floor, he immediately screamed in pain touching his right knee.

He was hitting the floor with his hand, I was there in a flash. " Baby, I'm here." I murmured kneeling beside him. " Let me see what you have done to your knee."

His blue eyes were brimming with tears. " Don't touch it." Mr. Lafayette yelled. " We cannot do anything for him till the paramedics are here."

" If I'm correct, and rarely I'm not about this kind of event he has broken the ACL. His career is over." He concluded by speaking with decades of experience in the dance world.

My son laughed hysterically. " Just great, I screwed up the only thing I was barely decent at."

I could feel myself dying inside, my baby was broken, his career was over and he was feeling so miserable. I knew I had to take care of him. " It's not a problem, you can do something else."

" Such as? The only thing I'm good at is dancing, now that's gone." He sighed. I was about to retort but the ambulance staff arrived making everyone move.

I stayed there frozen, it was like someone had punched me in the gut. " Mina, get a move." I heard Mr. Lafayette's voice.

My son was put on a stretcher ready to be carried on the ambulance. "Anyone who wants to follow him?" One of the paramedics asked.

I raised my arms to make me noticed, but Mr.Lafayette put my arm down. " We need you here, the first play of the new show is in 36 hours." there was nothing wrong in his statement if not my willingness to follow my baby.

" Let's go please." My son yelled and the ambulance staff did his job carrying him to the vehicle.

My heart sank one more." Mina, I'll be in touch with the hospital. Do not worry." Mr Lafayette affirmed patting my back.

The rehearsal kept going, I performed at the best I could even though I was far from my usual standard. We ended up dancing when it was over midnight, it was pointless to rush to the hospital now, they would have never let me go through.

" Mina, I'm deeply sorry to inform you that the medics confirmed my idea about the injury. He will be under surgery in two hours from what I've told." He affirmed. " Tomorrow I'll start a casting to find a new dancer for his position in the ballet." he concluded.

I nodded accepting his decision and walked out of the room. I went to the dressing room and changed back my clothes. I grabbed my bag and left the Opera Garnier.

It was still raining, my eyes were brimming with tears and my heart was aching. My baby was about to go under surgery and I wasn't by his side, I've never felt so miserable.

The next day was as awful as the previous one, with hours and hours of dancing to get ready for the first play. The chance to see my son today seemed a mirage.

" Mina, I've been informed that your son will be discharged today at 5 pm. I'm sorry but I cannot let you go home that early he will be assisted by some para-medics during the whole process." He told me.

I did my best to focus on what I was doing to wrap up the day as soon as I could to rush home to my baby.

The time seemed to slow down but we got finally to the end of the day, I rushed to my flat to find my baby lying on the sofa, he had a bandage on his knee.

" Hi, baby." I saluted him. "How are you feeling?"

" Like shit, literally shit." he hissed. " My world has crumbled apart, I don't have anything more." his voice was awfully sad.

He started crying, his whole body was shaking from the grief.

I could not stay away anymore, I rushed to his side and took him in my arms. I held him tightly. " Everything will be alright, baby. Your mother is here." I soothed him. He let himself go, his body relaxed in my embrace and he continued crying.

" I despise myself." he confessed. " I despise everything about me."

" Don't say such things." I rebuked him. "You are the best thing that has happened in my life." I declared kissing his forehead.

His blue eyes looked up at me, they were brimming with tears. " Sweetening the reality won't change anything." He affirmed bitterly.

" What are you talking about?" I asked him. He grabbed my hands and placed them on his face. His cheeks felt so soft under my hands, I loved him so much.

"You are beautiful, you are perfect in every single way." He explained to me. " I have been broken since I got abandoned by my parents, you tried to fix me but the cracks are still there. I don't deserve a person like you in my life." He said sadly.

His words hurt me, I felt like I was losing him. I tried not to break down in tears. I looked at him straight in the eye, my gaze was firm. " You are wrong." I affirmed. " You are the one I've always needed, you are the best thing I've ever known." I was telling him the truth, I loved him more than words could explain. " Your parents are the ones who don't deserve you. You are such a good kid." I stated, my voice was getting weaker.

He laughed bitterly. " Little white lies. I have got a broken knee, I've failed you and myself. I've proved not to satisfy you properly, I'm just someone you spoiled over the years without getting anything. I'm a failure."

"You are not, baby." I soothed him.

I couldn't take anymore. He was breaking my heart more and more. " I'll go to take a shower, don't move from here." I ordered him.

He nodded and I went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I let myself fall on the ground crying out loud. I cried and cried till my body didn't have any more tears to produce.

I cleaned my tears and took a shower. I dressed up in a nightgown and got back into the living room. He was still on the sofa. He looked up at me. His blue eyes were red from the tears, his hair was a mess and he looked so sad. I sat beside him and took his hand.

I kissed the back of his palm softly. " Do you know how much I love you?" I questioned.

" I do. You gave me a home and all I own, I owe you everything." he replied.

" Don't you love me?" I asked back.

" I very much do, but I don't deserve you in the slightest.” he affirmed. " You should aim for someone better than me, it should not be too daunting."

I've had enough of his attitude, I slapped him on his cheeks." Enough is enough. I love you and I know you do as well, we are together whether you like or not." I felt better after my outburst.

" Please kiss me." he said on the verge of crying again.

" I will kiss you till the end of the days, but stop whining you have me by your side." I stated kissing him. His lips were soft and warm, they tasted like the Earl Grey tea he loved.

His hand cupped my neck and he pulled me closer for a deeper kiss. His tongue touched mine and it made my heart flutter.

I broke the kiss, I wanted to see him happy, so I did the only thing I could think of. " Come with me." I stood up pulling him with me, his eyes looked at me confused.

I took him into the bedroom and got him to sit on the edge of the bed. He watched me undress myself completely, his eyes were wide open in awe.

" You are so beautiful." he murmured.

I grabbed his hands and made him touch my breasts. He cupped them in his palms pinching my nipples. " Do you like what you see?" I asked. He nodded, he was already hard. I kneeled on the ground and took his cock in my mouth. He gasped and his hand reached my hair.

I sucked him gently, licking him from the base to the tip. He moaned when I licked his head, it was so big and delicious. He was leaking precum in my mouth and it tasted sweet, I swallowed it all.

" Can I fuck your mouth?" he asked shyly.

I nodded and he started pushing his cock down my throat. I sucked him for a good minute before he came inside my mouth. I swallowed all of him and licked his cock clean.

" It's my turn." I said making him lie on the bed.

I straddle his hips paying attention not to touch his knee and rubbed my pussy against his hard cock. He groaned feeling how wet I was. His hand grabbed my tits and pinched my nipples.

" Take me, Mina." he moaned.

I lifted my hips and lowered myself on him, he filled me completely. His cock felt so good stretching my pussy out. His hand touched my waist and his pelvis started bucking up.

" Ride me, please." he asked softly.

I started bouncing up and down on him. His cock was sliding in and out of my pussy so good. His hands were groping my tits and his breathing was heavy.

" Yes, baby." I moaned riding him. " Yes."

He groaned in response. His hips were moving faster and faster, his cock was going deep in my pussy.

I lowered my torso lying on him, my lips trailing a path of wet kisses on his neck. His arms wrapped around my back locking me in that position, his hips pounded me way faster than he did the first night. My climax came out of nowhere, I squirted on his body shuddering in his arms.

His lips met mine and took control of the kiss, sliding his tongue inside my mouth he started licking me like a wild animal.

He was so close to ejaculate, I could feel his cock throbbing inside me. I started grinding my pussy against him, I wanted him to feel how wet and warm I was.

"Oh god." he groaned. " Mina." his cock spurted out cum deep inside me and his body went limp.

I rode him through his orgasm, my inside was filled to the brim with his seed.

I laid on his chest, his arms were still wrapped around my back. " I love you." he whispered. His voice was soft and his breath was hot on my skin.

" And I love you." I responded kissing him again. He tasted so good and sweet. We fell asleep in each other's arms. My heart beating for him and his beating for me.

He woke up a few hours later, I could hear him sobbing silently. He was still holding me tight. " What's wrong?" I asked him softly, kissing his cheek.

" Nothing." he lied.

" Tell me." I insisted.

" I'm scared of losing you." he affirmed. His voice was so sad that I had tears running down my cheeks.

" Do not worry, baby. I will never leave you." I promised. " You are mine." I added kissing his lips.

The next day I had the first play of the new show, and my baby had to stay home due to his condition. I'd have loved to have him there watching me, luckily all went as good as planned. We got 5 minutes of standing ovation, I felt so proud of myself.

After the standing ovation, the whole troupe of dancers went to a restaurant to celebrate the success of the show. I drank more than I ever did, feeling that I deserved it after all the troubles I went through in the past few days.

Jean-Pierre was there with us, he ended up sitting beside me and we talked for a while. I was drinking my second glass of wine when he kissed me. The kiss was wild and passionate, his tongue was dancing against mine.

The party ended up sooner than I expected and Jean-Pierre accompanied me home. He kept kissing me the whole way, his hands were all over my body.

We got to my front door and he kissed me again. His hands were rubbing my thighs under my white skirt and his dick was already hard against me.

" Do you want to get inside and have some more fun?" he whispered in my ear.

I nodded shyly. I couldn't deny him anything, his touch felt too good and my control was gone by the alcohol.

" We have to be quiet." I murmured opening the door.

My baby was on the sofa sleeping.

Jean-Pierre's hands were still groping me, he closed the door behind us and pushed me against it, kissing me wildly. His dick was pushing against my stomach, I was melting in his embrace.

" Oh god." I moaned. His lips left a trail of kisses on my neck, I had goosebumps all over my body.

" Strip yourself." Jean-Pierre ordered me. His tone was low and commanding, I felt myself getting wet.

I obeyed him and took off my white top, leaving my body bare from the waist up. His eyes feasted on my tits, they were already hard from the stimulation.

He lifted me up on his shoulder like I was a feather, once in front of the sofa besides the one my son was sleeping he made me stand up while he plopped on the empty sofa.

" With all the house free to fuck you picked it here." I asserted whisper-shouting.

" I wanna see how long you are gonna be able to stop your screaming while I fuck you." he smirked and remove the last piece of clothing he had on.

His dick was hard and pointing at me, the head was leaking precum. " Get on your knees." he ordered. " And suck me." his tone was cold and commanding.

I had to admit that it turned me on, I loved being dominated by him. I obeyed his command and kneeled in front of him, taking his cock in my hands. I licked the head, tasting his precum and savouring the sweetness.

" Suck it, don't lick it." he growled.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and sucked him in, he hit the back of my throat with his length, making me gag. He grabbed my hair and made me suck him deeper.

" Swallow me." he ordered. I obeyed him, I knew he would not stop until I did as he pleased.

He started fucking my mouth in earnest, his thrusts were merciless and his grip on my hair was hurting. Tears were streaming down my cheeks but it was not enough for him to stop, he kept going till my whole face was wet.

" Good girl." he praised me. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and signalled me to turn around. He took me on his lap in a reverse cowgirl position; my hands were on his chest to balance myself.

His cock rubbed against my pussy, it was dripping wet from the sucking. I gasped when he pushed the head inside me, my pussy was stretched to its limits, his dick felt way bigger than I remembered.

He filled me up easily, his butt was out of the sofa making him able to fuck me with all his might. He held my waist and started pounding me, his cock slid in and out of my pussy at a very fast pace.

My pussy was stretched out by his cock and fucked me wildly, making my tits bounce with every thrust. His pelvis slapped my ass loudly. I bit my lips to keep my moans silent.

He manoeuvred his hand on my cunt, and his fingers rubbed my clit furiously, bringing me on the verge of cumming.

He sped up his motion, the head of his dick was hitting my G-spot, making me feel too good. " FUUUCK.” I screamed at the top of my lungs unable to keep my mouth shut.

My body started trembling and my pussy spasmed around him, cumming on his cock.

He kept pounding me through my orgasm, his hand were holding me in place on his lap and I could do nothing but take it. His pace was fast and merciless. He was using my pussy as he pleased, I was just a toy for him, a vessel to be fucked and used.

My eyes darted towards my son who was now fully awake, he was looking at me with an unreadable expression.

Jean-Pierre kept plowing me as mighty as he could, sending shivers down my spine. My pussy was dripping wet around his dick, it was making squelching noises every time he thrust in and out.

"Stop immediately." I urged him. My voice was weak and I was trembling from the pleasure.

He did as told. His cock popped out of me and I collapsed on the floor, he stayed seated on the sofa behind me.

" Get out of this house." I ordered him.

" Are you leaving me with blue balls?" he smirked taking his fat cock in his hand.

" Yesss. Now move your ass and get out." I yelled slowly crawling on the floor towards my son, my legs were numb from all the dance of the last few days and the orgasm I just had.

" If I must, I will." he agreed. He put his clothes back on and walked away from me. " You can call me if you need anything else." He sent me a flying kiss before leaving the flat.

I crawled to my son's feet and looked at him with my eyes full of tears. He was staring at me with a blank expression, his face was a mask.

" Baby." I cried. " I'm so sorry." I hugged him.

He sighed loudly. " Why did you bring him here?" his voice was way too calm.

" Baby, I've drunk too much and things got out of hand. But please let me tell you that he is not better than you. He has a bigger member but you please me as he does, but you don't hurt me and you don't make me feel like an object to be fucked." I confessed sobbing.

His arms pulled me up on his body, and his lips met mine. His kiss was soft and gentle, his tongue licked my lower lip.

"Calm down, I got what you said." he soothed me. " Relax, please."

I melted his arms. " Let me take you to bed." I helped him to my bedroom.

" Once my leg feels better I promise I'll be more active in bed." his voice was sweet as honey.

" Baby, don't worry. You have to go through some rough months with the rehab." I acknowledged. " Now you just gotta lie on the bed, and I'll do the work for us."

I deposited his body on my mattress and carefully removed his clothes. " Wait here, I'll shower quickly. I don't want to mix any trace left by my error with you."

A few minutes later I came back in my room, my hair was still a bit damp from the shower. He was lying on the bed staring at me like a lion staring at a gazelle.

" You are outrageously good looking." he spoke, I had never been complimented like that.

" You got yourself to be fucked, as hard as I can go." I warned him, smirking.

His eyes were wide open and he nodded eagerly.

I climbed on the bed and started kissing him from the neck, he moaned loudly when I sucked his skin.

" Let me mark you as mine." I smirked biting his neck a few times, planting a series of hickeys.

His moans were music to my ears, he was so sweet.

I went further down on his body kissing and sucking every inch of his skin. I was kneeling between his legs when I got to the promised land, his cock was hard and pointed at the sky. It was already leaking precum, he tasted so good when I lapped it out.

" Mina." he begged me.

I smiled wickedly at him and wrapped my mouth around his dick. His hands tangled in my hair pushing me deeper on his cock, he was thrusting in and out of my mouth.

" Swallow me, you good girl." he ordered me.

I did as told, swallowing every drop of cum he gave me. My tongue licked his shaft clean and I kissed the head before releasing him with a loud pop.

" I'll take good care of you, baby." I declared. I was in love with him, he was able to dominate me but never crossed the red line.

I rubbed his spent dick; it was still half-hard. " Please fuck me now." he pleaded.

" You'll have to wait a bit, I want you to recover." I teased him, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock.

I bobbed my head along his shaft a few times getting him rock hard again.

I let his cook free from my mouth and crawled up on his body. His lips met mine and his hands grasped my hips making me straddle him.

I was rubbing my pussy on his dick, getting wetter by the second. I could feel how much he wanted to be inside me, his dick was leaking precum like crazy.

I leaned on his chest and kissed him passionately. I lifted my ass and positioned him at the entrance of my cunt. I slowly took him inside me, inch by inch.

His moans were getting louder with every inch I took of him. My pussy was stretched by his girth, his dick felt so good inside me.

When he was fully inside me I planted my hand on his chest and started to grind myself on him. His dick has bottomed out inside me and I could feel the head hitting my G-spot.

" Oh gosh, you are hitting my sweat spot" I moaned keeping up the pace.

He positioned his hands on my hips, helping me to grind faster and faster. The pleasure made my mind foggy and my eyes unfocused. My pussy clenched around him, and my moans became one single note.

" Baby, I'm gonna cum." I declared.

His hands slapped my ass loudly and he kept fucking me through my orgasm. The waves of pleasure went through my body making me squirt all over the place.

My body collapsed on his chest, panting soundly. My love caressed my back for a few seconds before closing his arms and holding me in place.

He started to pound me wildly, hitting my G-spot with every thrust. " I'm too sensitive." I yelled.

" I know you are enjoying it." was his reply.

" I fucking do." I moaned in his ear. His hands slapped my ass repeatedly like it was a drum.

His hips were on over-drive, I arched my back and felt the second orgasm building inside me. This time it would be a bigger one.

" Oh, god." I moaned as the wave of pleasure engulfed me.

Another flood of my juice just went to drench his body and the bedsheets.

" Please cum, I can't take it anymore." I begged him resting my head on the crook of his neck.

He fucked harder for a few more minutes I found the energy to lick his face and neck like a hungry wolf, he groaned and his cock twitched inside me.

" Do it, baby, fill me up to the goddamn brimmmm." I hissed.

He buried his dick deep inside of me for yet another time and came with a loud moan. His warm seed flooded my insides and his cock kept pulsating inside me for a good minute.

We lay there entwined in each other's arms till our breathing calmed down and our bodies were not trembling anymore.

I rolled off him, my body was sore but in the best possible way, it felt like I was floating on clouds. He wrapped his arms around me pulling me in an embrace. His lips were soft and warm against mine.

" You gave me the best sex I've ever had." I confessed. " Let me rephrase that; it was the best love I've ever had."

" I cannot live without you, you make me feel special." he replied making me feel on cloud nine.

" Likewise baby, I love you." I confessed again drifting to sleep in his arms.

When morning came I informed the company that I would have taken at least six months off, I needed to take care of my loved one. Mr. Lafayette didn't like the idea but he was forced to do as I wanted promising to let me get back as soon as I was ready.

" Mina, where are you?" I heard my baby calling me from my bedroom. He looked so angelic still half asleep. I felt my heart swelling of love for him.

I joined him on the bed. " I just called the company to take some time off, to take care of your rehab."

His eyes brightened, we were gonna be spending months and months together. I couldn't understand what kind of pain he was feeling because I had been lucky enough not to get injured that badly.

" I booked an appointment with a physiotherapist, she will be here at around 3 pm.” I informed him getting a thankful kiss on the cheek.

I helped him get a bath to remove all the dried cum from the night before and got him dressed. He sat on the sofa while I went into the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

We waited for the physiotherapist on the sofa, my head was resting on his shoulder.

When the doctor arrived I frowned, she was way too pretty for my liking.

I went closer to my son and whispered. " Don't do anything stupid with her or I'll cut your dick off." he gulped at my threat. I knew he understood me well.

I took my son to the doctor and left them alone in the bedroom to do their job. I went back to the living room and laid on the couch looking for some yoga plan to practice at home, I had to maintain my flexibility.

I heard them closing the bedroom door and walked to the living room, she had a smile on her lips and my son had his cheeks flushed. I got jealous for a moment and mimicked the movement of a pair of scissors closing. His flush deepened and the doctor giggled. I ignored her and took my baby in my arms claiming my property over him.

"He will be able to walk without any problem in six months. I'll visit him three times a week but you gotta help him exercise for a few times a day." the doctor instructed me before leaving us alone.

" Do I need to grab a pair of scissors?" I teased him. No, Mina." he moaned in response. " I would never do that."

I kissed him on his forehead and pulled him against me. " Of course you wouldn't." I whispered. I loved him so much that my heart could burst at any moment.

" Mina, I need your help with the exercises." He stated looking at me with his big blue eyes. I kissed him again, he was mine.

"I'll do anything to help you." I replied kissing him again.

The all process of getting back on his feet was tough for the bought of us, the exercises tired him more than he wanted to admit but he kept up with me.

When he started to walk on his feet again barely I was constantly by his side, a few times he fell without compromising the knee.

" You are too stubborn, let me hold your arm." I yelled at him helping him up from the floor.

His eyes got watery. " Please, don't be mad at me." his voice made me hug him closer to my chest.

" I'm sorry baby, it's just that has been months since we've been out of this house for more than a day." I caressed his hair. " I'm just frustrated and worried about you."

He snuggled on my chest. " I'll follow your lead more diligently." he promised.

I smiled and kissed the top of his head. " That's a good boy." I praised him. He loved to be treated like that, it made him feel good.

The days kept passing and my baby was recovering at the speed of light. After six months from his injury, he was able to walk and run without any problem. I had kept my word and was back to my job as one of the main dancers of the company.

" Baby, do you want to join me for the new ballet?" I asked him. We were in my bed cuddling like we usually do after a day of dancing.

" Dance is a closed chapter for me." he stated sobbing. " I'm too afraid of getting hurt once more. You have been splendid with me in these six months, I don't know what I would do without you."

I felt a slight pang of disappointment, I had hoped he would get back to dance.

" You are gonna find your way, you have the potential to do all you want." I told him.

His eyes sparkled like he had come up with an idea.

" Tomorrow I'll get out quite early, do not worry" he asserted.

It was strange tomorrow was Sunday, where could he go on a Sunday morning?

My train of thought got interrupted by his hand on my tits, kneading them through my sleeveless black top.

" What you think you are doing?" I teased him.

" Turning you on." his began to lick my right armpit painting a trail of saliva under my collarbone before ending on the other armpit.

It made me feel so nasty. " Yes, you are baby. Give me more." I pleaded him. He kissed the space between my tits and then down my abdomen. His tongue danced on my skin, I felt like a goddess.

He reached for the elastic band of my skirt and pulled it down with his teeth, making them fall to the floor. I was wearing a thong, it had to be easy to remove but he decided otherwise.

His teeth bit my right thigh and pulled the fabric down, doing the same with the other leg.

" God." I moaned. I had never felt so horny.

He threw my underwear in the corner of the room. " Open your legs for me." he instructed me. I complied, letting him have access to my pussy. He kneeled in front of me and parted my lips with his thumb and index finger. He blew a hot stream of air on my pussy and I gasped.

He licked my clit lightly and his tongue went further down to the entrance of my pussy, teasing it before getting back up. My legs were trembling and my heart was pounding.

" Fuck me, baby." I begged him. " Fuck me with your tongue."

He obliged me and licked me up and down before focusing on my clit; he sucked it eagerly. I was moaning his name loudly, and my body was shaking from pleasure.

" Stop or I'm gonna cum." I warned him.

He laughed in response and kept sucking my clit like his life depended on it.

I grabbed his hair with my hands pulling it up. " You little brat." I said before pushing his head in my pussy.

He licked my hole, his tongue was fucking my pussy like a cock. I arched my back and my body went through an intense orgasm. I squirted all over his face, his chin and mouth were covered with my juice.

I pulled his head up to mine and licked my juice from his face thoroughly.

He kissed me again. " Lie on your stomach." he purred in my ears. " I wanna fuck you.”

I obeyed him and laid on my belly on the mattress. His cock was hard as steel, he slid it in between my ass cheeks and rubbed it against my back. He leaned on me, his body was covering mine completely. His lips brushed against my ear.

" Are you gonna fuck me?" I whispered.

" Yes, I am." his voice was so soft. He pulled my hair back, exposing my neck. His teeth bit me softly, I liked being marked by him, it was our way of expressing our love.

He positioned his cock at the entrance of my pussy waiting to fuck me. " How do you want it?" he asked me.

" Hard and without mercy." I replied. " Use me as you please."

He grunted at my words and pushed his cock inside me. It was like the whole universe had stopped, he filled me up like no one else could do.

" You feel so good." I moaned.

He started fucking me without mercy like I wanted, his dick was going in and out of me at a fast pace. His pelvis slapped my ass making me moan louder and louder.

My pussy was clenching around him like it never did before, I could feel another orgasm coming. " Baby, please go faster." I urged him.

He pounded me harder and faster, his breathing was heavy in my ear. I held the bedsheets in my fist trying to keep my whole body still.

His hands held my tits under my body, squeezing them hard. I liked it a lot, I was on the edge of coming.

" Oh god, oh god." I kept chanting like it was my mantra. He fucked me through my orgasm, his cock hit my G-spot over and over.

My orgasm was too intense, my whole body shook violently. His arms pulled me up till my back was leaning on his chest.

He sank his teeth in my shoulder making me shiver, his tongue licked the blood that came out from my flesh.

" Come with me." he pulled out and dragged me to the edge of the bed. He was standing outside of the bed, I spread my legs as wide as I could.

" Now I'll fuck your brains out." he promised. His cock slid in my wet cunt easily, his hands gripped onto my soft thighs. He was thrusting inside me like a wild animal. His hips were pounding my pussy at a fast pace, it felt so good, and my moans echoed throughout the whole flat.

" Oh god." I yelled loudly. His cock had hit my G-spot yet another time, another orgasm was incoming. I clenched my pussy around him, wanting to feel every inch of him.

" You are gonna make me cum again." I cried, his hands explored my body, and my tits became

his new toy.

His fingers pinched my nipples, making me scream in pleasure.

He was fucking me wildly and his hands groped my tits, my orgasm was yet another time stronger than the previous one. My whole body was convulsing violently; each thrust sounded wetter and wetter.

" Baby, you are splitting me apart." I moaned.

He lifted me up in his arms, my legs wrapped around his hips. He kissed me deeply before biting my lower lip, it felt so hot. His cock stayed deep inside me all the time, stretching me out to my limits.

His hands her on my ass cheeks and squeezed them hard, I moaned louder, I could feel my pussy getting even wetter.

He began to move my body up and down on him, his hands were on my ass. His cock was moving in and out of my cunt at a fast pace.

" Oh god, please don't stop." I begged him, my arms were wrapped around his neck.

" I won't, I promise." he whispered in my ear before biting it. His breath was hot on my neck, it made me shiver. His lips kissed my neck and his tongue licked my skin, leaving a trail of saliva.

He walked to the wall and slammed my back on it, fucking me in the earnest. My tits bounced with each thrust he gave me. His breathing was heavy on my ear.

I kissed the side of his neck and sucked a patch of skin, he moaned loudly. I sucked a little bit harder till his skin was red from the hickey, he gasped at the pain. I kept sucking it like a leech till it was dark red.

" I'm gonna cum again." I whispered in his ear, his whole body went stiff, and he started pounding me even harder.

His cock felt like it was expanding inside me and his pelvis slapped my ass, making me moan loudly. He fucked me through yet another orgasm.

My whole body was shaking from the pleasure. His hand cupped my face and kissed me deeply, his tongue danced with mine.

" Cum inside me." I moaned desperately. " Please." I begged him.

My beloved baby obeyed my request, making me jump on his cock driving me insane.

He moaned my name loudly and came inside me, filling my pussy with his warm seed. His dick throbbed inside me and he kept thrusting for a few seconds. I was trembling from the pleasure he gave me.

I kissed him, trying to take away the oxygen from his lungs. His hands held my head, not allowing me to separate from his lips.

He slowly made me stand on the floor, his cock slid out of my cunt with a wet squelch. My knees gave up and I collapsed on the ground, panting soundly.

Like a knight he carried me on his bed, mine was a mess.

" Sleep tight." he told me spooning me.

I woke up late, my body was shattered. My son's side of the bed was cold but still smelling like him, I was so chuffed to be with him.

My phone chimed on his nightstand, he might have brought it here before leaving.

The text was from him. " Hey, Mina. I went out to meet with a person, I'll be home soon."

I questioned who he could have wanted to meet on a Sunday.

My curiosity was answered a few moments later when my baby entered the flat holding a bunch of papers in his arms.

He kissed me on the lips. " I wanted to surprise you." he explained.

" Surprise me?" I repeated. He handed me the papers and I read what was written on it.

I was so happy I almost cried.

" It's my contract with the dance company, I asked to work as Mr Lafayette's assistant.” he affirmed proudly. " He told me to study to become a choreographer, while my day job will be to take care of a certain ballerina."

My eyes widened, and I hugged him tightly. " Thank you, thank you, " I said.

I knew that he had done it to be near me and I was so grateful. I kissed him deeply.

His beautiful blue eyes stared at me in adoration.

" Never divert your gaze from me. You are my baby blue love." My heart was stuck on him.

#twice smut #twice mina x male reader #twice mina #kpop x male reader #kpop fanfic #girl group smut

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hiii! i love the way you wite james, so i was wondering if you could write something with reader getting james flowers and he's never gotten flowers before,,, it would be so cute, thanks bae!

Hi, thanks so much sweetheart :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 720 words

You show up at James’ doorstep on a crisp Tuesday afternoon with a small bunch of sunflowers clutched in your hand.

His grin is automatic. “Hi, angel.” You smile back at him, raising your hand in a cute little wave. “We don’t have plans, do we? I thought I was picking you up for coffee tomorrow morning.”

“We don’t,” you reassure him. “I was just around, and I thought I might say hi, if that’s okay.” The wind blows your hair into your face, and you brush it behind your ear.

“Of course it’s okay.” James reaches forward, giving your shoulder a squeeze while he ushers you through the door. You look really lovely, eyes bright and hair tousled from the chilly wind. “I always love to see you, you know that. What are these?”

“These?” You hold up the flowers, and he nods. “They’re for you.”

He feels his heart do a funny little twitch. “Wait, isn’t giving flowers supposed to be my thing?”

You roll your eyes, moving past him into the kitchen. “Don’t be so old-fashioned, Potter. They made me think of you, so I got them. Do you have, like, a vase or something I could set them in?”

James is starstruck. He’s so in love he’s choking on it.

“Or I could just set them on the table, I guess,” you go on, opening and closing cabinets. “They’re your flowers, you can do whatever you want with them.”

“They made you think of me?”

You pause, giving him an odd look. “Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

You shrug, looking, for the first time since you’ve arrived, a bit bashful. “I don’t know. They just reminded me of you a little bit. They’re yellow, I guess. You don’t feel like you’re a yellow person?”

A smile tugs at James’ lips. “I’d be honored to be a yellow person.”

“Well, good.” You blow out a breath that’s half laugh. A piece of hair slips from behind your ear, and you slot it back in place. “So, do you have anything I can put them in, or?”

“I might have an empty wine bottle, or I could borrow a vase from Remus…” he shakes his head. “Sweetheart, could you come here for a second?”

You look bemused, but oblige him, meeting him halfway by the kitchen table. James’ arms come around you so fast a tiny oomph of surprise leaves you just before he lifts you off your feet. You hug him back a second later, pushing your nose into his shoulder, and James can feel the soft silkiness of petals where you’re crushing the flowers to the back of his neck.

“What’s this for?” you ask after a little while, and it’s a good thing, because James was starting to worry he was holding you so tightly you couldn’t breathe.

“This is so nice of you,” James says, voice heavy with fondness. He lowers you back to the ground, but sets his hands on your shoulders to keep you still while he plants a solid kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“James, they’re just flowers.”

There’s nothing just about this. “They made you think of me,” he says feebly, big thumbs stroking lovingly on either side of your face. “Angel, that’s the sweetest thing I ever heard. What’re you trying to do to me, huh?”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in your tone, only warmth. “You bring me flowers all the time. I’m just returning the favor for once.”

James smiles at you with all he’s worth. You don’t get it, but that’s okay. It’s enough that you care. “I’m gonna get you the best, most chocolatey coffee in the world tomorrow,” he promises. “And a giant pastry to go with it.”

“You get me enough.” You push against his chest playfully. “How am I supposed to get even if you keep getting me things?”

“You’re not,” he says plainly. “That’s my grand plan for keeping you on the hook. You’re never allowed to even out the balance.”

“We’ll see about that.” You grin as you step out of his embrace, moving back into the kitchen. “Where’s that wine bottle? The next thing I’m getting you is a proper vase.”

James thinks he could get used to this.

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mrs-hwangh · 4 months ago

Text

a boxers heart.

chapter two

Kim Geonwoo x Fem!Reader

summary: one day was enough to change your lifes forever. Geonwoo is your best friend, you help his mother with her coffee shop and became part of a legendary trio with Geonwoo and Woojin. However.. nothing will ever be the same again after the Smile Company entered your lifes.

wc: 2,7k

an: I did not proofread this yet.. bare with me- aaaand... there's going to be some action in the next chapter ✨️

enjoy

The roads were busy, people wearing masks walked by each second as he came closer to his destination.

Opening this door.. it was the best feeling for him. Entering the place where he can work on fullfilling his dreams.

The gym.

Geonwoo mimicked the blows he'd train on as he punched against the air while he went up the stairs.

He was soon greeted by the last door that seperated him from his freedom.

However.. there was a note.

"Huh?"

Temporarily closed Due to a confirmed covid-19 patient

They had to be joking.. right??

He called his coach seconds after, hoping to get the permission to train a little bit on his free day.

'We had dinner last night with some of the other members at the gym'

'Apparently, one of them tested positive'

Geonwoo sighed.

"Oh.. do you think I should get tested too?"

'No, you're fine'

'Anyway, your match was just yesterday. Why did I hear that you're back at the gym?'

"To work out. Why else?"

His coach didn't know if he should be proud or worried at that moment.. isn't that kid.. tired?

'Geon-woo.'

'Please take a week off and rest.'

Rest? Why? Was there a need? All he knew was working hard each day to keep his disciplines up.

Why should he rest all of a sudden if he wasn't even tired?

"Rest doing what?"

His coach wished he could facepalm his student right now.

'Nothing. If you're doing something, you're not resting.'

'Just don't do anything and try to relax'

So.. no keys.. no approval of his coach.. man he really had to rest huh?

Geonwoo gave in.

"Okay"

He ended the call and was left alone standing, waiting for some miracle he knew would not happen.

The boy turned to the staircase and sat down.

He took a deep breath thinking of his options. What could he do.. wha- wait..

How didn't he think of it sooner??

"Come on pick it up already.."

The phone rang a few times until he saw the calls icon change into the timer.

"Uh.. what are you up to??"

Woojin was confused. He had the best sleep since a long time.. getting a call at this early hour confused him already.. having him check the callers ID twice before picking it up.

His eyes were closed, his phone lazily placed on his ear as he groaned.

'Sleep'

"Huh?"

'Sleeping'

Geonwoo was amazed. He didn't hear that right.. no no

"Uhh, I can't hear you"

'Sleep. Sleeping. I am sleeping'

"Well, do you want to work out?"

'No'

"Ah, but I'm bored"

Woojin could not believe his ears. Who in their right mind would wake up that early. The exact day after a win.. just to work out more??

'God, so clingy so early in the morning'

'Can't you ask y/n? I bet she'd love to wake up this early'

"She's helping my mother out.. they're at the coffee and the shift won't end until much later"

'Did you try?'

".. well no, she's busy and I didn't want to disturb her"

'Yeah I figured that much.. oh man'

Geonwoo wouldn't take a no as an answer. Who would he be if he gave up?

"Let's hang out. Hmm?"

Woojin sighed. This dude wouldn't let him rest huh..

....he gave in

'I'll send you my address. Come.'

A light chuckle escaped Geonwoo after hearing this. After all he did have company for now.

"Okay, sounds good"

They ended the call and Geonwoo stood up, leaving the heavy bag in one of the shelves before he left the building.

The door closed and he was greeted by a soft breeze of the wind. He opened his phone to enter the location but something else caught his attention.

Some older man was running down the street, yelling for help. Weird.

Just a few seconds later, another person appeared.

Someone dressed all in black chased him down.

Geonwoos instincts kicked in as he joined the chase to hopefully save the man from his attacker.

The road lead to another neighborhood but he couldn't see them anymore. Shit. Did he really lose them?

A few moments passed by as he stood there, gasping for air thanks to the sprint he did while wearing the mask.

He looked around, sharpened his senses and actually caught kn something.

A sound.

Wincing.

It was time to run once again, not long after he found the person lying down on the street, breathing heavily.

The attacker was already leaving the scene but Geonwoo wouldn't let the person get by that easily.

Their eyes met and the person started running away. Geonwoo was not losing any time, not wanting to get lost again.

He quikly checked the mans state and took off to catch the other stranger.

The chase lead him through tight alleyways, different openings of streets he never got to see until the person dissappeared between the bricks and doors.

Shit.

Shit where did they go??

He didn't stop and soon got to regret this.

A sudden pain surged from his side as the stranger attacked him from a hiding spot.

Was it.. did they.. was this electric?!

Whatever it was sent him on the floor and the stranger on top of him.

He groaned in pain and his breath was very uneven.

His eyes widened in shock as the strangers look turned from serious to disappointed when they saw him.

They took their mask off.. it was a girl?

"Who?"

....

"..huh?" "Why did you follow me? Who sent you?"

Her tone was serious and she put the electronical device dangerously close to his throat.

He was panicking, trying to get his neck as far as he could from that device.

"To help"

She pushed that thing closer.

"Help who?"

He was trying to keep his cool, not looking at the dangerous thing that was activated by now, ready to strike a very very vulnerable spot.

Closing his eyes.. starting to stutter.. this fear.. this was new to him.

"I thought that man was being chased, I didn't know what was going on"

A sudden sound caught her attention. It came from him.

Shit. It was his phone-

"What is that?"

"Was someone following you? Answer me!"

He shook his head as much as he could, facing the painful thing that awaited him.

"Show me the contact. Now."

"Okay.. okay but please-"

She came dangerously close. It came dangerously close.

"T-Take that away.. just a few inches- please"

Geonwoos voice was shaken but she listened, leaning back to give him the needed freedom.

He took his phone out, seeing the name that usually lit up his mood.. but today.. now he was worried.

"Don't wait? Turn it to me"

He hesitated but did as he was told to.

The display was facing her now and the caller indeed didn't seem like someone who'd harm people.

' y/n :) '

There was a picture of you, that smile, these eyes.

No, he was telling the truth. The girl she saw looked way to innocent to actually work for someone like him.

"God fucking damnit"

She shook her head in frustration.

"..huh?"

His eyes slightly widened at this while he noticed that you ended the call.

"That asshole is a fake.. Just butt out of things you don't know, Motherfucker"

She was pissed. Threatening him with the electro shocker and sighing once again before she stood up to leave.

Here he was, lying on the ground.. trying to calm himself from whatever happened right now.

- "Hmm.. he didn't pick it up"

You were cleaning the floor while Geonwoos mother prepared some sweets.

She asked you to call Geonwoo, wanting to know if he wanted her to prepare a special sweet for him.

"It's allright, thank you.."

.....

"So.. how was yesterday? Geonwoo told me a little about the day, but he didn't mention much because I was tired"

Her voice was filled with such kindness.. may this woman never have to suffer again..

"Hmm.. where do I even start.."

You recalled every memory you had from yesterday. From hearing Woojins voice at the call to walking back from the delicious food.

"He introduced me to Hong Woojin.. the one he fought against during the finals. Then.. well no no first I called him and then I heard the other guys voice. It was funny because he was mocking Geonwoo for not answering his question."

His mother smiled softly upon hearing this.

"Which question?"

"The first thing he asked was who he was talking to.. but he kind of ignored it. Shortly after he asked him if he was talking to a girl.. well, he obviously did and then he started saying something about Geonwoo smiling but that was the moment when Geonwoo turned to call off"

She was amused by her sons reaction.

"He also cursed at the guy.. first time I heard him say 'Damnit'.. like genuinely"

You tried to copy his voice during that moment, failing miserably which made his mother errupt into a heartfilled laughter.

"Cursing? Geonwoo? That was unexpected huh"

His mother went on listening to your yapping. You might have not realized it yet.. but she certainly understood what was happening to her son right now, and she was glad that he had you hy his side to support him.

"We should go there together some day, it's really fun"

"I'm pretty sure of that... now.. should we spoil ourselves with some sweets to kill the time?"

Sweets? Made by her godly hands? Oh yes.

You two sat down on one of the seats and enjoyed the lunch break together... ohh how you loved this place.

The sun was starting to set as Geonwok and Woojin sat on the rooftop.

They prepared something warm to eat, talking about different topics such as their favourite boxers.

"I do want to get money though, this is part of why I box"

Geonwoo and he compared their idols until they came to the conclusion that both of them had a different point of view.

Woojin though took Geonwoos words in.

"A boxers heart.. this.. this is important to me"

How was he this wise but still younger then him??

".. yeah.. you're right"

The noon went by as they continued their chatter.. they changed the topic.

Well.. Woojin did.

"The girl from yesterday.. who is she?"

Geonwoo was caught off guard, did he forget?

"You mean y/n? Didn't you just talk to her yesterday?"

Ohhh this dude was so oblivious..

"No.. I meant who is she, someone special to you?"

He smirked because he saw his friend slowly getting flustered.

"Oh man I knew that something was going on from the moment she called you"

"Oh shut up-"

"Bro you were smiling wiiiide, tell me! Is she your gi-"

"As I said, she's helping my mother out. This is how I came to know her"

Woojin did not believe anything of this though.

"Yeah yeah, oh man you're helpless aren't you?"

Geonwoo let out a chuckle and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Don't get me wrong, she is special.. but don't you dare say anything in front of her"

"No sir!"

Was he for real? A salute?

"You're going to be the end of me"

"Yes sir!"

The suns light gave in to the night.

A familiair darkness filled the streets and you and Geonwoos mother knew that the time had come.

Another day has come to it's end.

"The shift is over. Will you wait with me until Geonwoo returns?"

"Of course"

You too stood behind the counter and missed the black cars which drove up to the entrance.

The wooden door creaked as a man stepped in. Someone you didn't recognize.. but judging by the woman's reaction next to you, she did.

"Oh.. hello! Good evening"

The mans walk was slow but powerful. He was dressed in a black suit, elegant glasses reflecting the lights shine.

His look seemed annoyed, angry even.

"Why didn't you keep your promise?"

Your gaze shifted to her, a confused look spread across all over her face.

"..what?"

"You agreed to an extension fee"

"In exchange for an lowered interest rate"

"uh... what..?"

"But you needed to pay that extension fee which is 10% of the principal"

He walked closer, a few steps being already to many for your comfort.

"withing 24 hours of signing"

"It says on the contract, but because you failed to do so, your extension has accured to 40 million in interest."

His demeanor changed, the serious look turned into a manic one, wide eyes and a voice getting louder with each sentence.

"Not to mention your credit score has dropped so your interest rate has gone up to 20%" He chuckled.

"We really... started with the purest of intentions.."

He laughed.

"You ruined everything, damnit!"

His sudden yelling scared her and snapped you out of your thoughts.

You didn't know what he was talking about but judging by Geonwoos mothers face, the growing unease in you stomach and that guys appearance all together, he had to leave. Now.

"I'm sorry sir, but you have to leave now, I think there's a big missun-"

"Don't you dare to interfere!"

He snapped at you, pointing his finger towards your face and making a face you'd surely see in your nightmares.

This silenced you, but you still stepped closer to your best friends mother, shilding her from him.

"What are you going to do now? Do you have that kind of money?"

She looked at you, then at him.

"I.. I will call the police"

"Police?'"

He was unfazed.

"Yeah"

Silence.

Nor did he say or do anything.

Just standing there, staring at both of your faces until he took one.. then two.. and then many steps back to leave the shop.

Both of you left a breath you didn't know you were holding once you heared the door close.

"What the hell was this.."

She didn't answer you, instead calling her son.

"Oh my God.. oh my God..."

You saw the man standing outside the door, staring at you.. which made you panic a bit.

'Hey mom?'

She was relieved upon hearing his voice.

"Hey son, where are you?"

' I'm almost there'

"Okay, I'm at the store, with y/n"

His face lit up when she mentioned your name.. but not for long.

You.. You saw more of them getting grouped infront of the door.

"A bunch of strange people came over.."

'Strange people? Who?'

"They're still here"

She wanted to tell him more but one of them suddenly threw a stone against the glas, shattering it completely.

You two flinched and shrieked from the sudden noise, shielding yourselves from what was happening.

'Mom? Y/N? What's going on??'

All he could hear were your fear filled screams and the loud noise of glass being shattered, wood hitting the floor and people destroying the place his mother established with so much love.

Neither her or you could continue the call, the danger was way to high and your priority was to keep each other safe.

The counter.. the only thing shielding you two from the group of the men.

Wincing and flinching at every sound and glass dropping right next to you, a nearing shadow caught your attention.

Two men forcefully pulled you up, restraining you from moving.

You saw them going to get Geonwoos mother next.. she was shivering in fear..

"Don't you dare touch her! What the hell do you think you're doing in here anyway?!"

The guy holding you pushed you harshly to the wall and slapped you across your face.

A stinging pain filled your senses as you heared the muffled screams of the frightened woman you wanted to protect.

Unbeknownst to you.. the call didn't end when you both fell down.

Geonwoo could hear everything.

He was already sprinting, a rage burning deep within him against whoever attacked his special people.

But when he heard your voice? Wanting to protect his mother?

He got goosebumps.. not the good ones.. the ones you get when you're awaiting something bad.

Which happened.. he heard the sound of the slap. The scream of his mother as soon as she saw them hurt you.

He was furious. And one thing was sure. Whoever dared to lay his hand on you two would end up in the hospital today.

Taglist:

@asterizee @dripoftheseus

#bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds #kim geunwoo #woo do hwan #gunwoo x reader #bloodhounds x reader #dohwan x reader

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larluce · 1 year ago

Text

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie a little fluff to celebrate I reached 200 followers 🥺🤧. Thank you so much! I love you all! ♥️♥️

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 (You're here) , PART 11

A little more of "The Mark of Nimueh"

Arthur: (Knocks the door to Gaius's Tower) Merlin!

Merlin: (opens the door) I'm on my way. Sorry I'm late.

Arthur: (Smiles at the feeling of deja vu) Don't worry. I'm getting used to it. (stops smiling when he notices the flowers on Merlin's neckerchief)

Merlin: Oh, uh. (pulls out the flowers) Gwen gave it to me.

Arthur: (jealous) You two are pretty close aren't you?

Merlin: (confused at Arthur's sudden question) Uhm.. Yeah, I guess? I mean, we just known each other for a couple of weeks so-

Arthur: Do you like flowers?

Merlin: Uhm... I do actually (smiles a little). They're a nice gesture but...

Arthur: But?

Merlin: It's sad they have to cut them. Just to die in days time. (thinking) Why did you say that?! He's going to think you're a sappy petticoat now! 😖

Arthur: (points the flowers) And you like forget me nots?

Merlin: I love them! 😊(puts the flowers back in his neckerchief). Not that I think the other flowers aren't beautiful. But there aren't many that are purple and-

Arthur: And you like purple.

Merlin: Yeah... (blushes, thinking) Why are we talking about what flowers I like? He never asked me that before.

Gaius: (interrumping) Sire? Do you have a message for me or...?

Arthur: (blushes) Oh, right. My father wants to see you inmediatly.

Time skip. Merlin and Arthur fighting with the Afanc.

Afanc: (Throws Arthur aside)

Merlin: Arthur! (runs infront of him and raises his torch to the beast, ready to use his wind spell)

Afanc: (blows the flame)

Merlin: Oh, fuck. (falls on his back when the beast aproaches him)

Arthur: Merlin! (covers him with his body)

Merlin: Your torch! Arthur, your torch! (points the fallen torch that fortunatly still has a little flame)

Arthur: (grabs it and raises it at the beast while still on top of Merlin)

Merlin: (thinking the spell so Arthur can't hear him) Lyfte ic þe in balwen ac forhienan se wideor!

Afanc: (is set on fire and dies)

Arthur: (turns to Merlin and gets to see just a bit of the gold in his eyes before it dissapears, thinking as he catches his breath) So this was also you.

Merlin: (Catching his breath but also nervous, cause Arthur is still on top of him and keeps looking at him directly in the eye) Ar...Arthur?

Arthur: (caress Merlin's face, concerned) Are you okay?

Merlin: (Nods, red to his ears) Ahm... could you...?😳

Arthur: Oh, right. Sorry. (stands up and helps Merlin to stand up)

Merlin: (covers his embarrasment with anger) You! You can't keep putting yourself at risk like that! 😡

Arthur: (shouts back) I could tell you the same thing! You came here to fight the beast alone, didn't you? Why didn't you come to me? (thinking) As you did last time.

Merlin: I had it under control! I just needed fire to defeat it (thinking) And wind and magic. But you can't know that! (says) I didn't want to put you in innecessary danger!

Arthur: (in shock for a second but then smirks) You care about me?

Merlin: (red again) N-No. But I can't keep my job if my master is dead!

Arthur: So you love being my servant.😏

Merlin: I... 😳(thinking) WHAT IS HAPPENNING?! 😨😱(says) It pays well 😠. (starts leaving as dignified as he can)

Arthur: The exit is the other way.

Merlin: I knew that! 😡 (goes the other way)

Arthur: (laughs a little and follows him, thinking) Do you love me already? When exactly did you fall in love with me?

Time skip. Merlin enters his room and finds a purple lily in a pot next to his bed. Surprised and confused, Merlin reads the note next to it. The note says "There are many purple flowers you just have to look for them carefully. Here is one in a pot so it doesn't die, but knowing it's under your care I bet it'll last a few days anyways. Don't go into danger alone again. Atte Arthur".

Merlin: (puts the lily back in the table and sits on his bed calmly... and then sinks his face in a pillow to scream)

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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imaginesandbandfiction · 10 months ago

Text

Second Choices

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I hope this makes sense lol. I opened my planning doc for the next part of Triad, read the three sentences I had written there, and then closed it and went back to a random drabble in my notes app that exploded into this. So… enjoy, I guess? There will be three parts of this total, so click here to be added to the taglist to be notified when those go live!

Warnings: Angst, drinking, drug use (slightly forced, if you squint?), a little hint of smut at the end but it doesn't progress very far

“Y/N is a bitch,” Braelie whined, voice echoing out from the restroom’s open door. Mor sighed, snapped the cap back onto her signature red lip gloss, then turned towards Cassian’s female-du-jour. She was pretty, in an artificial sort of way. Her foundation, a shade too light, was caked on with a thick layer of matte powder that swallowed the light when it hit her face, leaving her skin dull and sullen. The dark eye makeup and too-bright lipstick made her look like a doll, and not the kind for children.

“Listen, Brae,” Mor hoped that using a nickname would soften the major blow she was about to land. She reached out and laid a light, comforting hand onto one bony shoulder. “Y/N and Cassian have been friends for a long time. I won’t lie to you, sometimes the lines get blurred when they’re both single. She’s probably having some complicated feelings, since you’re so pretty,” Mor rushed to add that last part when Braelin’s lower lip wobbled. Then she prayed to the Mother for your forgiveness and said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “she’s probably just jealous.”

That put a spark back into Braelie’s eyes, and Mor cringed. She added Cassian to her list of prayers as Braelie flounced away in search of him.

Cassian hovered with his hand on the doorknob, ready to duck out the side door to sneak in a quick smoke break while Braelie freshened up with Mor.

Braelie was hot, sure, but Cauldron she was dumb. If Cassian had to hear the words, “wait, really?” one more time, he might not make it long enough to get her into his bed tonight. Just a few puffs of mirthroot would dull the edges of his brain enough to find her cluelessness endearing.

She wasn’t the most exciting company, but she was reliable, and he needed that. He’d broken things off with Skyla three weeks earlier and knew that he was dangerously close to doing the one thing he wore he’d stop doing, so he went out one night, alone, and found Braelie.

After overhearing Mor’s words, he felt guilt roiling deep in his gut. So he smoked half a joint and headed back inside. He danced with her and thought of you. Walked her home and thought of you. She invited him in for a drink and pressed her too-pink lips against his.

He thought of you.

Afterward, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and waited until her breathing slowed before sneaking out through the window. He shoved off of the sill and let his wings fully expand, catching the wind and sending him soaring into the early morning sky.

—

You hadn’t meant for Cassian’s latest fling to overhear you calling her a “Cauldron-damned floozy,” but it had happened anyway.

“She’s soooooo annoyingggg,” you slurred, taking another swig from the wine glass in your hand. You let your head fall back until it landed on Azriel’s shoulder. He chuckled and you felt his shadows nipping at your cheeks, lightly scolding you for being bitchy. They tickled like tiny, ice-cold kisses, but that wasn’t enough to stop you. “Seriously, Az. I dunno what Cas sees in her. She’s just another Cauldron-damned floozy, good for keeping his bed warm and not much else.”

Mor had managed to redirect Braelie towards the restrooms after that, leaving you alone in the booth with Az, completely oblivious.

Azriel’s shadows had alerted him to her presence, and a smirk graced his lips. He sensed some major drama brewing and relished in his position at the sidelines.

“Why, Y/N, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous,” he drawled. You let your head loll to the side so you could glare at him, which coaxed a bark of laughter from his lips.

—

The first coherent thought you had the next morning was water. I need water. You dragged yourself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom, gulping mouthful after mouthful straight from the faucet.

But water could only do so much for a hangover, so you threw a robe over your pajamas and tiptoed down the Townhouse stairs. It was nearing noon but, based on the disheveled state everyone had returned in last night, you didn’t want to risk waking anyone and incurring their hungover wrath.

Outside the kitchen, you heard low, muffled voices and paused to listen before entering. Mother forbid you end up interrupting Cassian and Braelie’s post-coital feast. Cauldron, even her name was annoying.

“I just don’t understand why Y/N would say something like that,” you heard Cassian say, wincing as memories from last night flooded your brain.

“Look, Y/N’s your best friend, I’m sure she’s just feeling put out now that you’re spending so much time with Braelie,” Az said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“Well she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

You turned away and snuck back up the stairs to change into real clothes, deciding that breakfast at your favorite cafe was in order. Preferably paired with a mimosa or five.

—

Az sighed and took a sip of tea to buy himself some time to think. He’d stayed up with Mor until sunrise, talking about their clueless friends.

While your comments about Cassian’s love life had been funny the first few times, after more than three decades, it was getting old. They recognized a pattern repeating itself ad nauseam; Cassian gets a new girlfriend, you distance yourself from him and start grumbling about the girls’ flaws, then when Cas eventually dumped her you’d be back to being best friends like no time had passed at all. And if you both happen to be single, well, sometimes after smoking too much mirthroot you’d end up all over each other. In a friendly way, of course.

This time, though, you’d been much more open about your hatred for Braelie despite the fact that she was one of the more tolerable ‘floozies’ they’d had to deal with over the years. She was dumb but harmless, and soon enough Cassian would tire of her, resetting the cycle once again.

So they’d decided to divide and conquer; Mor was going to try and get it through your thick skull that you’re in love with Cas, while Az was tasked with showing the General what was right in front of him.

Easier said than done. So he decided to go for the jugular.

“Well, it’s not like you have the best track record with females. Maybe Y/N’s gotten tired of playing nice when you’ve got someone new on your arm every other week.”

“Last I checked that wasn’t a crime.”

Az held his hands up, raising one eyebrow at Cas.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. If it’s really bothering you, why don’t you talk to her? I’m sure if you asked her to lay off Braelie she would.”

Cas ducked his head to hide the heat rushing to his face and mumbled something incoherent into his chest.

“Sorry, brother, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my shadows laughing at your blush.”

“I broke up with her this morning,” Cas growled, tightening his grip on the mug in his fist.

Azriel cackled, laughter only growing louder when Cas glared at him.

“It’s not funny,” Cas insisted, launching his teaspoon over the table. Az’s shadows caught it before it could make contact, turning Cas’s glare into a downright glower.

“Alright, alright, it’s not funny. You’re just predictable, that’s all.”

After stewing in silence for a few minutes, Cas felt his self control crumbling. Words bubbled up from his chest, through his throat, and then he was rambling.

“I overheard Mor telling Braelie that Y/N was jealous of her,” he pushed his chair back and started pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “And at first I thought, no way, that’s crazy, if Y/N was jealous I would know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She always gets weird whenever I’m dating someone, right?”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Az suggested, leaning back in his seat. Just a friend offering a casual, off-the-cuff solution to a problem he knows nothing about.

“Yeah, maybe…”

—

Mor tracked you down later that afternoon, sprawled out on a blanket next to the Sidra and halfway through a bottle of vintage red imported from the Summer Court.

“Heyyy,” you greeted her, pushing yourself up into a sitting position and holding the bottle out towards your friend. “Come to join the pity party?”

Mor eyed you, curiosity and amusement sparking behind her honey brown eyes, and she accepted your offering.

“And why are we having a pity party?” she asked, plopping down next to you and taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Cause I fuck everything up, duh.” You flopped back down, this time onto your stomach. “Cassian hates me, but whatever. I’m sure he and Braelie are going to be very happy together.”

Mor had to force her eyes not to roll at your drunken dramatics.

“I’m gonna find a boyfriend, that way when they break up Cas can’t come crawling back to me with his dick in his hand. See how he likes it.” You made grabby hands for the bottle but Mor shook her head, keeping it held just out of your reach.

“Or you could try telling him how you feel?” She suggested, casually, as she took another sip.

You scoffed, hiccuping giggles following as you struggled to keep your composure as mixed emotions ebbed and flowed through your body.

“Tell him how I feel? Should I tell him it makes my skin itch whenever he dances with another girl? Tell him that I haven’t been able to finish with anyone else since the first time he fucked me? Or maybe I should tell him that he’s my mate, good idea, Mor. Maybe that will make him fall in love with me!”

Mor let her eyes roll this time, patting you on the back. But when you flipped onto your back, she saw the pain and longing etched into the lines on your face and stared deep into your eyes, waiting for you to laugh and say it was just a joke.

Unease settled in her stomach.

“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked.

“He’s my Cauldron-damned mate, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s too busy burying himself in the hordes of females fawning all over him to notice how much it hurts.”

“Y/N…how long have you known?”

“Four years,” you whispered, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your tears from your oldest friend.

“Oh, babe,” she sighed, tugging you up into her arms. The dam behind your eyes broke and sobs wracked your body while the gears in Mor’s brain started turning.

When you finally settled in her lap, tears dried up, she hauled you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

All you managed to mutter was, “Not the Townhouse,” before she winnowed you away.

—

Cassian dodged Azriel’s attempts at cheering him up in favor of sulking at the kitchen table all day, waiting for you to wake up.

When it was nearing dinner time, he sighed and put together a tray of tea and pastries to bring up to you as a peace offering. But after knocking politely on your door for five minutes straight, worry started worming its way into his stomach and he threw open the door to reveal your bed, perfectly made and empty.

“Fuck,” he growled, throwing the tray down the hallway where it crashed against the wall, broken bits of pottery clattering to the ground. He’d wasted all day waiting for you when you were out doing Mother knows what with Mother knows who.

Screw apologies, he was on a warpath now.

He trekked through the busy streets of Velaris looking for any sign of you, starting at Amren’s apartment and making his way through your favorite shops and restaurants with no success. Just when he was about to give up, assuming you were holed up with a male somewhere, he saw Mor ducking into one of the small cafes near the Sidra.

“Mor!” he shouted, jogging to catch the door before it closed behind her. She turned around, and a look of shock flashed across her face before it smoothed into cool indifference.

“Cassian,” she said, nodding at him before turning to the hostess stand. “I’m here to pick up a takeout order for Morrigan.”

The hostess nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to grab the food. Cas reached out and grabbed Mor’s wrist, tugging her around to face him.

“Where is she?” he asked, barely able to contain the rage flowing through his veins.

“Not now, Cas,” Mor sighed, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “Trust me. Just give her some space.”

“I can’t,” he growled, siphons glowing as if they were attempting to warn her that his magic was sizzling just beneath the surface. It felt like something was pulling him along, the desire to find you growing stronger the longer he looked. “I need to find her. Please, Mor.”

The hostess came back and handed a bag to Mor, who promptly turned around and dumped it into Cas’s arms.

“Fine, then you can take this up to the House of Wind for me. I have some errands to run, you have an hour.” Cas’s face relaxed and he nodded, about to open his mouth to thank her when she waved a hand at him to dismiss him.

But when they were back outside, she turned around to flash a sickly sweet smile at him.

“Oh, and Cassian?” His eyes widened as he froze in place, wings spread and ready to take off. “If you hurt her, I will feed you to Bryaxis.”

With that, she disappeared and Cassian took to the skies wondering what would be waiting for him when he arrived.

—

On the back deck of the House of Wind, you stood leaning against the railing, music swirling around you as you watched the sun sink behind the buildings of Velaris below. Lights blinked on one by one until the whole city was filled with twinkling stars.

With a joint in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, your mind was finally, blissfully, numb. Only the subtle ache deep in your core served as a reminder of your unfortunate situation, but even that was starting to dull.

Of course, your peaceful night had to be ruined by the one male you had no desire to see. The sound of flapping wings and rushing of air past your face gave you a split-second warning, and then Cassian dropped to the ground behind you.

You turned around and held the hand with the joint lazily balanced between two fingers at your forehead.

“General Bloodshed, or whatever the fuck,” you said, wobbling on unsteady feet as you saluted him. Then you lowered your hand and took a long drag, holding the smoke in your lungs for as long as physically possible before letting it out in a steady stream pointed in his direction. “Come to fight for your fair maiden’s honor, or just to rub it in my face that you’re getting laid and you don’t need me anymore?”

“Y/N,” he said, all the anger draining from his body as he took in the bags under your eyes and the heavy winter clothes hanging off your frame even though Summer was right around the corner. It was like he was seeing you for the first time after a long mission away, noticing how much weight you’d lost, how tired your body looked.

He set the food down on one of the lounge chairs and took slow, careful steps towards you.

“Y/N,” he repeated, “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’, Cassie, nothin’ at all,” you said, pausing to hiccup before continuing. “I don’t care about Braelie, I don’t care about you, I don’t care about anything.” You thrust your arms out wide and turned to face the sunset, which was now casting a golden glow onto Velaris. “I’ve got a hot date with my fingers later, and I probably won’t even think about you.”

Cas ignored the heat flaring up low in his belly at the mental image that flashed behind his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, coming up next to you and prying the joint from your hand. “Gimme that.”

You turned to face him, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Why? So you can leave me here and go get high with Braelie? I bet she’s real mouthy. You like em loud, don’t you? Like when females beg for that big Illyrian cock?”

Your voice got higher and higher, becoming breathless as you rambled on, letting all of your deepest, darkest, pent-up thoughts and feelings fall from your lips. Even though you knew you’d regret it in the morning, in the moment it felt so good to let them go.

“Y/N, stop, just take a breath. I’m not going to leave you, okay!” Cassian stubbed out the joint and tossed it aside, putting his hands on your shoulders to force you to look at him. “I’m not going to see Braelie, I broke up with her this morning.”

Your eyes glazed over as you looked him up and down, a lazy smirk blooming on your lips.

“Ohhhh, I see how it is,” you drawled, waving a hand to summon the joint to you. Snapping your fingers to spark it back to life, you took another deep hit and then stuffed the unlit end into Cas’s mouth. He tried to protest but you held firm until he finally inhaled. Its effects hit immediately, and you watched as his shoulders drooped, muscles relaxing. With a wicked grin, you dropped from his loosened grip to your knees, palming his dick through his leathers. “Want me to kiss it better, put your broken heart back together?”

A war waged behind Cas’s eyes; on the one hand, the mirthroot was clouding his judgment and lust threatened to take over at the sight of you looking up at him with wide eyes.

On the other hand, he had set out to make things right, to talk to you and figure out the true nature of your feelings for him. Sleeping with you would send the wrong message.

“Y/N, stop,” he grunted, pulling his hips back and shoving your hand away.

“What?” you asked, your pout back in full force. “Want me to beg for it first, cause you know I will? Know I’ll give you anything you want?” You shoved yourself up to your feet, pushing onto your tiptoes so your narrowed eyes bore right into Cassian’s.

He felt the tension that had been building all day melt away—the anger, the frustration, the confusion—all of it was gone with a snap of golden magic that flooded his body.

You felt it, too, from your side of the bond, could see the moment it registered behind those hazel eyes. It felt like the bond was on your side, snapping just in time to help you prove a point.

“I’m done being your second choice, mate,” you snarled, plucking the joint from his hand before turning around and stalking into the house, leaving him stranded alone in the darkness.

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian #cassian imagine #cassian imagines #cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #imagine #imagines #angst #imaginesandbandfiction

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marveladdictjones · 1 year ago

Note

prince caspian, inspired by 'I see the light' from tangled also imagine on the dawn threader at night under the moon and the stars

anything else is up to you

I See The Light

pairing: Dawn Treader!King Caspian x gn!reader warnings: a little bit of pining, very intense eye-contact, maybe perhaps some kissing... maybe even perhaps things getting just a little bit more heated... not quite nsfw, but there's some implying summary: you're staring at the moon and stars; Caspian is staring at you a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, I absolutely LOVE Tangled and I've recently come back into my King Caspian Narnia hyperfixation. Also, this is techically not the first time I've written something like this, but definitely one of the better things I've written wc: 1.3k

The only light, besides that of the moon, that illuminates your path to the railing of the Dawn Treader is the lantern at the helm, where a faint flame is dancing in its little cage.

For the first time since you've left the harbour, the midnight sky is fully clear, not a cloud that dares to blanket the twinkling stars or the silver glow of the moon. It's colder than usual, a light breeze blows against your cheek.

You lean down on the railing, resting your head in the palm of your hand as you look up at the sky. For some reason, there's something mesmerising about the way the moon casts a silver glow across the water, how the stars form constellations that only exist because someone decided to connect the dots to make some sense of it all.

You're too caught up in your own head to hear the door to below deck open. And so Caspian, King of Narnia, finds you staring out into the midnight sky. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a smile adorns his lips. His eyes skim over your figure, taking in every detail as the wind lightly ruffles your hair.

For a moment, he just stands there, not wanting to disturb you. After some time, he carefully approaches you. You hadn't noticed him at first, but after a while, you had felt his eyes burning in your back. So when he came to stand beside you, you weren't entirely startled.

"Can't sleep?" Caspian asks softly, not looking you in the eyes just yet and instead looks up at the sky as well.

"Oh, I'm sure I could if I bothered to try," You answer, "It's just that the sky hasn't been this clear ever since we sailed out of the harbour."

"It also hasn't been this cold ever since we sailed out of the harbour," He remarks, "A simple shirt won't keep you warm enough."

"Oh please, I'm fine," You say, even though you're unable to hide the shiver as it runs down your spine. "Besides, shouldn't you be fast asleep in your bed?"

The king lets out a dry chuckle and shakes his head. "Perhaps, but luckily for me, I don't have to follow orders," He says, his gaze drifting towards you now, "You, on the other hand, would be wise to do so. You should go to bed, get some rest."

You playfully roll your eyes. "I'll go to bed shortly," You say, looking back at him as well now. "You know, you're welcome to stay here for a while, Your Majesty."

"Oh, don't go calling me by my title now, we're past that," He says, finally being able to properly look you in the eyes. "Please, just call me Caspian. Also, thank you for allowing me to stay on my own ship."

"Alright, I didn't mean it like that," You respond as you lightly chuckle and shake your head, "I just didn't want you to think you couldn't be here because I was already here, even though it's your ship, which you said and... I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Caspian looked at you with a light smile on his lips, his eyes trained on yours. "You are, but please, don't stop on my account," He says, moving almost unnoticably closer. "Really, do continue, please."

"Oh, okay, uhm..." It didn't make sense why your mind suddenly went completely blank. There was no reason for your cheeks suddenly feeling warm and turning a bright red. "What... what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, anything, really," Caspian answered, the silver light of the moon reflecting in his eyes. "That wasn't an order, by the way. I just... really love it when you talk."

"Good to know," You say softly, averting your eyes for a moment before looking back up at the midnight sky. "So... the sky is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes, it truly is." If you had looked at him, you would've seen Caspian's eyes were still trained on you rather than the sky. "The way the moon and stars cast their silver glow is... truly mesmerising."

Despite the chilled breeze that glides over the ship and the silence between them, the atmosphere is strangely comfortable and relaxed. Time seems to stand still, stretching the minutes into an eternity as the two of you continue to gaze up at the midnight sky.

After Aslan knows how long, Caspian softly speaks up again. "Have I ever told you why I love being at sea so much?"

You avert your gaze from the stars to look at him. "No, but please, do tell."

"Back in the palace," He begins, "everyone and everything always seems to be in such a hurry. And despite all of that, I feel like I'm doing nothing but chasing down daydreams until the days just... blur together.

"But out here, everything is so peaceful. The gentle rocking of the ship, the glow of the starlight... suddenly, everything is crystal clear, like I've finally found what I'm supposed to do."

You softly smile as you listen intentively, resting your head on the palm of his hand. After a while, Caspian looks at you in slight confusion, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" He asks, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Oh, nothing," You say, your smile turning into the lightest of smirks as you continue, "I just... really love it when you talk."

Caspian let out another chuckle as he shakes his head. "Using my own words against me, are you now?" He comments teasingly, leaning in just a little bit closer. "Are you sure it's a good idea to challenge your king?"

"Didn't you say that we were past using your title?" You raise an eyebrow at him, daring enough to take a small step closer as well. "And if not, what will you do? Exile me?"

"Oh no, my dear, I wouldn't dream of it." The world seemed to somehow shift into a blur as the back of his fingers lightly brushes against your cheek, creating a contrast between the warmth of his touch and the chilled gusts of the wind. "Has anyone ever told you your eyes are as bright as the stars above?"

The light touch of his hand and his soothing words managed to knock the breath out of your lungs, the way he gazed into your eyes left you in a trance-like state. If your eyes were as bright as the stars, his were brighter than a thousand suns with the intensity he was looking at you.

Slowly, carefully, an invisble force seemed to push the two of you closer together until there were mere millimeters between your lips. And then, time seemed to freeze into a moment of uncertainty, even though the electricity could be sliced with a knife.

"Tell me to stop," Caspian breathed, his hand resting on your cheek as those brown eyes bored into yours. "My Starlight, tell me to stop. I won't be able to hold back."

"Don't stop... don't hold back."

And that was all he needed to hear before closing the distance between you. In his defense, he really intended on holding back on the intensity, but as soon as those words had fallen from your lips, he was done for.

One hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his body while his older hand held steadily onto your face. Your hands crept into his hair, your fingers softly running through the strands, earning yourself a soft groan falling from his lips.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, the fervour in his kiss grows a little stronger. "Please," He whispers against your lips, nearly sounding like a desperate plea.

"Okay..." You respond breathlessly, letting him pull you towards the stairs leading to below deck.

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#writeblr #x reader fics #divider by saradika #marveladdictjones fics #prince caspian #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader fic #prince caspian fic #king caspian #king caspian x reader #king caspian x reader fic #i see the light tangled #requested by anon #marveladdictjones asks

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whatifitis · 3 months ago

Text

♡ Good Riddance - FC 43 ♡

Summary: part 2 to this fic but can be read as a one shot! you and franco find yourselves tied by a string but it's hard to tell if its cursed or not. was it fate that brought you two to the same place at the same time?

Author's Note: this is absolute shit and i'm sorry i feel like everything i write gets worse and worse. feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 2211

CW: angst, fluff, overuse of references, happy ending

Every lake here is frozen. Here you sit, in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, trying to get better. You knew you fucked up, big time. Seeing Franco so soon was a mistake. You hadn’t healed all your wounds yet so you still exploded on him. You knew all he wanted to do was be there for you and help you but you didn’t let him.

You left your past life on the ground, trying to find who you were. You used to like who you were, but somewhere along the way you lost her and you can’t seem to find her again. Not only did you lose yourself, but you lost everyone that ever cared about you. You pushed them all away by being mean and unforgiving.

You’re not sure if the work you’ve been doing to get better is working anymore. It feels like everythings the same. You're not the way you were.

It’s cold and windy out, leaving your nose bright red from the harshness of the air. You trudge through the cold, bitter snow and walk to a cafe that’s not far from where you’re staying. You come here every so often just as an excuse to get out the house, they also have the best chai latte you’ve ever had.

You order your latte and take a seat in the corner. You enjoyed sitting in the furthest corner of the room, people watching. Watching as people came into the warmth of the shop, smiling as they took in the atmosphere of cinnamon and coffee scents.

The bell ringing of the door caught your attention, your breath freezing from the sight. Franco, with a red nose as he tries to blow some heat into the palm of his hand. He’s holding the door open for someone, a blonde girl. When they’re both through the door, she grabs his hand. Their eyes meet and you can see it, some sort of spark.

Sudden silence.

The girl is beautiful. She’s got long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and she’s thin. She’s everything anyone could ever want. She was that girl. You watch as their hearts leap in a giddy whirl. He could be that boy, but you’re not that girl.

You’re not sure if you should stay put or try to sneak out of the cafe without being seen. But it’s too late. Franco looks around the store, his eyes stopping when they meet yours. It’s like you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything. You feel frozen in time, watching as he gets dragged around a corner.

Your feet started moving on their own, taking you outside, almost running through the snow. You kept running, refusing to look back at him. Refusing to acknowledge that the story of the two of you was officially over.

So you missed seeing his face as he watched you run from him. You didn’t see him almost run after you.

-=+=-

By the time you got home, you were out of breath. Your face was painted red from running against the cold winds. You closed the door behind you and leaned your back against it, falling to the ground until your legs fully gave out.

What was he doing here? This was supposed to be a safe space.

Your mind was reeling with thoughts so that you couldn’t keep up. You clenched your fists and tried to regain your composure. You couldn’t believe it. He was here. God knows why but there he was. Your heart falls through your body as you remember everything. How you left things, how you treated him.

You’re a fool for having done those things. You spun and spun until you ran out of breath. You pushed and pushed til you exploded. You can never take back the things you did or said, you’re not even sure if you can fix any of it.

Stuck on the floor of your flat, you feel a buzz from your coat pocket. It’s your phone. No one calls or texts anymore, it’s probably a commercial. As you pull out your phone to mute it, the name on the screen makes you pause. Franco’s name is there with a text, “why are you running?”

You weren't sure how to answer. You sat there, chewing on the skin around your nails before texting back, “you’re seeing someone, what does it matter?”

He feels a sting in his chest. Because yes, he might be seeing someone else, but he’s only doing that to replace your absence, the memories of you and the moments you’d spent together that continuously haunt his mind. So yes, it does matter. Because he can’t let go of you, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many dates he might go on. At the end of the day, he always catches himself thinking the same thing: they are not you.

A minute passes before his fingers tap the screen, telling you “Can we meet, please?”

“Why?”

“I think we should talk.” “What about?”

“Can you stop asking questions and just say yes?”

“Fine.”

It was settled. The two of you planned to meet the next day at a park near the cafe.

You were afraid of what would come of the meeting, considering the last went downhill pretty quickly. But tomorrow, the words unspoken will be shared. Maybe you could start fixing all the bridges you had burned. Maybe everything will be okay again.

-=+=-

The night was spent tossing and turning, not being able to get much sleep. You were so nervous, you swore your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing. At a somewhat sensible hour, you got out of bed and got ready to meet Franco at the park.

It’s not as cold outside today, you knew Franco would be able to tolerate this type of cold. He never really was a fan of the cold. You remember how he always used to complain about it being cold, even if the two of you were just in a movie theatre.

You got to the park a bit early so you took a seat on a nearby bench. You watched as people walked their dogs, jogged by, and just enjoyed the morning sun.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a butterfly garden. It made you smile. Franco used to call you butterfly, and he used to keep a butterfly sticker on his phone case for you.

The nickname came from your days in karting. You were one of the only girls so they called you ‘butterfly’. They always saw you as fragile and delicate. But in reality, butterflies were fierce as hell. Butterflies also actually try to eat humans, they just can’t because of their size. It’s quite terrifying but butterflies are bad ass is your point.

Franco never called you a butterfly in a demeaning way though. When he first heard people calling you that, he thought it was because you were as beautiful as one. Leave it to Franco to flirt with you the second you two had met.

Closing your eyes, you tried to soak in some sun and clear your anxieties. Until you heard someone clear their throat.

Opening your eyes, you see Franco standing in front of you. He’s bundled up in multiple layers of clothing as a motion to fight the cold. But it doesn’t seem to be working too well as he’s still shivering like your grandmother's ancient chihuahua.

You stand immediately, “Hi”

“Hey”

“Uh, did you wanna sit or walk?”

“Let’s walk. It’s too cold to just sit.”

The two of you walk side by side. It’s silent for the first few minutes, just the noises from the people in the park fill the atmosphere. The silence between you and Franco isn’t as awkward as you’d expect it to be. It’s almost comfortable.

It was Franco who broke the silence, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been okay. Could be better but I’m here. How about you? How have things been?”

“They’ve been okay. I’m okay.”, beats of silence pass, “I think about you a lot.” he confesses.

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it.” you scoff, how can he be saying that when he was on a date with a girl just yesterday.

“I just started seeing her. I don’t think it will lead to anything.”

“And why is that?” you question. You doubt his words, that girl is stunning and definitely his type. You even bet she’s smart as hell.

“She’s not you.”

You stop dead in your tracks, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means, y/n. I’ve tried to forget about you. I’ve talked to people, gone on dates with them and none of it rids my mind of you. For some fucking reason, I’m still in love with you. Through all the shit that’s happened. Despite everything that’s been said between the two of us. I still love you and I can’t seem to let you go.”

You feel like you can’t breathe suddenly. What the fuck was he on about? You said horrible things and you did horrible things. Things you’ll never forgive yourself for. Why is he here?

“Why are you here? In this town.”

“There was a meeting with a sponsor. That’s where I met that girl you saw. She asked me out and I thought why not. But I can’t see myself living my life with her or anyone else. Not like I can with you.”

“Why me?” you ask, your breathing is growing quicker, nothing is making sense.

“I think we made mistakes, a lot of them. But I think we can get past that and at least be friends again. If you’ll allow it. I’ve missed having you around and talking to you and just being with you. Everytime something happens, I just want to run to you and tell you but you’re not there.”

“Why? I was a complete bitch. I was mean and you didn’t deserve any of it. I ruined everything. All I do is ruin everything. Everything I touch turns to sadness. Why do you want me back?” you can’t breathe anymore. You’re pulling off your scarf and throwing it on the ground. Tears are filling your eyes and it feels like the walls are closing in on you. You feel your arms as they lose feeling and begin to tingle.

Franco is by your side in an instant, helping you sit on the floor. He sits next to you and holds you close, trying to help you calm down.

“Amor, breathe. Can you breathe with me please? Listen to my heart beat.” he tries and tells you, pulling one of your hands to his chest, above his heart. You try to focus on the beating of his heart, trying to follow his breathing.

“I can’t breathe.” you barely whisper between sobs.

Franco is quick to unbutton your coat, trying to help relieve some pressure from your chest.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just stay with me, okay?”

After a few moments, you seemed to calm down. You’re breathing slower now, you can see clearer now.

You turn to look at Franco, his eyes looking back at you intensely. He softly brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before softly tracing his finger along the side of your face.

“I ruined everything.” you softly say.

“You did not. I could’ve done better as well. It’s not all on you.”

“It was all me. I ended a friendship the day that I left. I was never the best to you and I can’t promise that I’m better now. I can’t promise I’ll stop making mistakes. I can’t promise to be perfect.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, amor. You’re already perfect for me. Both of us made mistakes and we learned from them. We’ll keep learning together. You’re not alone.”

“I’m sorry for everything. I’ll fix it and I’ll-”

“Listen to me, butterfly. You can’t carry all of this weight on your own. You can’t take blame for everything when not all of it was on you. Let me carry the weight with you. Let me follow you til the end.”

He brings his nose to touch yours, begging you to let him back into your life. You’re not sure if you should let this stay buried, or let it happen.

“I’ll never leave. And I’ll never let you leave again. Let me love you.”

His hand moves to hold the back of your neck, slowly bringing you closer. He hesitantly captures your lips in his. You freeze at first, doubting if you deserve to let him back in. If you deserve the man who wants to walk with you still. Linger on with you still. You give in, kissing him back, holding the side of his face.

Franco’s other hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer, not wanting you to go anywhere else.

The two of you are smiling into the kiss, close to tears. It feels like you’re meeting for the first time. And maybe you are. These new versions of yourselves. The ones that will not give up on each other, no matter how hard times get.

#f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto angst

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daengtokki · 6 months ago

Text

part three // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 14.4k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: angst, murder, blood, very brief m/m, bodily penance/self-harm, medication, sex, more blood

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

thank you again to @thackery-blinks, and also this song

please reblog/tag if you enjoy, and help my work reach a wider audience. thank you friends!

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST ]

After the second cup of coffee, you start to pay more attention to the time. It feels like an hour has passed, at least, but you can’t be sure, because you have no idea what time it was when the two of you woke up this morning. It’s even colder now, and the draft continues to blow in—that’s how you know he’s still out there. Doing what, though? Being alone, yes…meditating? Punishing himself?

You fill a third cup of coffee and decide to let fifteen more minutes pass before checking on him. You could just get up and go now, but it doesn't feel like your place to question his actions. This is really none of your business. Should you make it your business?

His back is straight, his head is down…you can see the steady puffs of condensation leave his nose. The blanket you pulled from the couch is rolled up under your arm when you push the curtain aside and walk out onto the balcony. It’s even colder than you imagined, now that the walls of his bedroom are gone.

How could he have been out here for so long? Seungmin isn’t made of much; he’s thin. Tall and broad, yes, but thin. And though his body has been warm and comfortable when you’ve been close to him, he can’t possibly keep that warmth in him right now. He doesn’t seem to hear you approach, or kneel at his side. You unfold the flannel blanket, the same one he gave you before, and carefully wrap it around his shoulders, up to his neck. Now he moves a little, and when you rub your hand over his back and shoulders, he opens his eyes and looks at you.

“Why are you out here?”

“Why are you?”

“Come back inside, please”

“Are you sure?” He grabs the blanket and pulls it around him.

“Yes, of course, I’m sure”

He nods, but he doesn’t move yet. Maybe he needs to find some energy first—there’s no way he has any left now. His legs look lifeless and pale, but they still work when he gets his feet flat on the ground. You follow him as he rises, hold his arm, and you’re surprised that he lets you guide him back inside.

He starts toward the door.

“No, you should get back into bed”

“I need some coffee.” His voice is so small, and weak.

“I’ll bring you some”

Seungmin stops, and stands there for a few seconds.

“Please”

When you return, he’s halfway under his covers with the blanket still wrapped around him.

“If you still want to be alone, I won’t stay in here”

“You can stay”

“Okay…” you climb onto the bed, find a spot in the middle, close to him, but not too close, and watch him as he quietly shivers. His cheeks and ears are red and chapped from the wind, and his usually pouty pink lips are pale and barely there against his colorless face. “Get all the way under the covers.” You reach a hand out to touch his neck, and he jumps.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you before”

“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me”

“I didn’t?” He reaches out and lifts your shirt, and the marks look even more apparent. A few bruises are already starting to bloom where his fingers pressed. “I did.”

“Lie down, you’re still shivering.” His hand is like ice when you grab it, but he shakes free and sets it flat across the bruises. It feels so good, but you try not to make your content sigh too obvious. “Okay, okay…lie down.”

Seungmin listens this time, and you decide to take a chance and move closer. You still don’t know why he was out there, or why he was torturing himself, but maybe he’ll allow you to wrap an arm around him and pull him even closer. His body is so cold, you’re not sure you have enough heat in you to help, but you’re going to try. You’re not sure why, but you know he would do the same for you.

/ / /

Wrapped up…that’s really the only way to describe him this time. Seungmin’s long limbs are all over you, holding tightly. The look on his sleeping face, at least what you can see squeezed against him, is the most content you’ve ever seen it. He’s sleeping like a puppy curled up in a heated blanket. And that’s exactly how you feel—warm, damp with sweat. Too warm. Seungmin’s heat returned, and then some. His cheek feels like a radiator when you touch it.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbles, moves around a little, then settles again. “Why am I so tired?”

“Because you sat outside for hours and it’s -2 degrees”

His eyes pop open like he’s wondering why someone is in his bed, answering him. He lets go, pushes himself back, and examines you.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Well, maybe he’s not all there yet. It doesn’t matter. Something about being in bed with him like this again blurs everything. You’re comfortable and warm here, and this is all that’s mattered. You should probably check your messages, your email, your bank account…something—your family might actually be worried enough to send money. It doesn’t matter, though. You don’t plan on going anywhere right now.

“I need to shower, and go out…what time is it?”

“Go out? Why do you have to go out?”

“I have to find…” Seungmin stops and looks at you again. “Someone.”

“Already?”

“Yes”

When did he do this last? Did he do it recently? The last time you asked him, it was in the park, and he told you he killed someone the day you met. After you met, because he didn’t kill you. You can’t even remember how long ago that was, so you close your eyes and think…two weeks, and—

“It’s been two days,” he says.

Oh, it was recent. You find yourself looking around the room as if you missed some clue about his recent activities. Is that why the bedding is all new? Did he do it right here on this bed? “Two days?”

He rises slowly. The arm that’s still draped over your hip slides away, and he stumbles a little as he gets to his feet. “Yeah, on Friday. After I thought you left.” And he’s gone without another word.

You hear him in the shower—he’s in there for a very long time, and when he finally comes out, a cloud of steam follows him. He’s still dripping wet, and his hair is slicked back so tight, he almost looks like a different person. And he’s completely naked. No towel wrapped around his waist, no shorts, just wet skin glowing in the sunlight. Seungmin makes himself more coffee, an iced one this time, and doesn’t say a word as he sips and looks absently at his phone.

He takes his coffee to the bedroom, and he comes back out a few minutes later, partially dressed. All you can do is watch, nervously, as he approaches where you sit at the corner of the couch. Why are you so nervous? Seungmin isn’t even looking at you— he’s staring at the floor, and then at whatever small thing he has in his hand. He holds it out and waits for you to take it before speaking.

“Get whatever you need, or whatever you want…both,” he says softly—practically whispers it. “Max it out, I don’t care.”

If you didn’t assume he planned on doing this since last night, you’d think it was his indirect way of apologizing. Seungmin clearly has money to throw at things to make them go away, or to bring them closer to him. You’re not sure which of those he wants from you right now.

This was your first time shopping in Seoul, and it was overwhelming being on your own in the crowds, but you have to admit it had its moments of calm, and even a few moments of joy—particularly when you found a dress very similar to one that you lost, and especially when you stumbled upon something that reminded you of Seungmin. It seemed silly to get, but it seemed still to pass up, too, and you haven’t decided yet if you’ll give it to him. But you have it just in case. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood after a few more hours of solitude. Maybe he won’t be as bad as you think he’ll be at accepting gifts.

The apartment is dark, and very quiet when you return. Seungmin gave you a copy of both keys, and the code to the final lock—being trusted with that did feel good, and it made your morning a little better after his standoffish attitude. It does make it feel like last night's comments probably weren’t the truth, but you still have to wonder about everything else. You set the bags down and look around; the kitchen light is on, and you can see some soft light coming from the crack beneath his bedroom door. There is sound, but it’s very quiet and you can’t catch any type of conversation.

The closer you get, the more confusing it becomes, until it finally hits you—you think you know what you’re hearing, and it throws your heart into your throat, and you feel a little sick. Seungmin is moaning, over and over, but it’s not quite how he sounds when he’s with you. It’s a steady rhythm, and then he stops…starts again, stops. It almost sounds forced, but he’s the only sound you can hear. Maybe he’s getting himself off; maybe last night wasn’t enough. You don’t want to interrupt him if that is what’s going on, but when you hear another voice, you really start to feel sick.

“Is that good?” the voice says. It sounds masculine, but still, it’s hard to tell for sure. You can’t understand it, anyway. You don’t hear Seungmin’s response, but the other person laughs, and you feel your entire body start to heat up. It could be from anger, or embarrassment, or sadness...all of the above. You feel pretty stupid standing there, but it’s not like Seungmin is your boyfriend. He’s not yours, and you guess you’re not his, either. No, he just took in a stray and gave it unlimited money to shop, absolutely no big deal. Nothing serious.

“Yeah, you are…” Still the nameless, faceless voice. Definitely masculine. “Come back, don’t be a tease.”

You take a few steps back. The language barrier means you can’t say for sure what’s happening behind that door, but it feels obvious. The deep, sensual whispers and the moans can only equal one thing.

“Yeah, keep going”

It’s Seungmin’s voice that time. And then everything goes quiet. A few seconds later, he comes, loudly. And then it’s quiet again.

You take a few more steps back until you hit the side of the kitchen counter, and it’s then that you hear a loud thud. Very loud, like something heaving hitting the ground.

“Fuck…what are you doing?” This time, the voice sounds…angry? No, surprised, confused. It’s hard to tell even as you listen as carefully as possible. Your head is swimming with every strange thought, though. “No…stop, please.”

“What the fuck?” You say out loud to nobody. Your legs are trembling. Another loud thud makes you jump, and then you hear Seungmin. It almost doesn’t sound like him, but you know it’s him. It’s big, and deep, and unlike any version of him you’ve heard…

“Fucking…hold still. Fuck, give me a break.”

The door shakes, the doorknob turns, and as soon as it swings open, all you see is the stranger's terrified face. He’s half-dressed, jeans still mostly zipped, but he slips a little as he makes a run for the door. Seungmin is right behind him, and you just barely see the shine of his knife as he runs by.

Your legs tremble more, and you don’t know how you’re still standing. The feeling of needing to vomit now hits, but nothing happens when you lean forward—just a dry heave, and then your throat tightens right back up. He doesn’t see you…he has one thing in his sights, and it’s almost at the door you’re pretty sure you left unlocked.

The man stumbles again, and Seungmin grabs him by the back of the neck as he falls forward onto the carpet. But he screams, and it’s so loud. You see the glint again as he pulls back and plunges it into the side of his neck. The sound…you think you actually hear the metal as it slides through his skin and tendons and cartilage. Did you really hear it all the way over here? You did hear Seungmin’s angry growl, and you can still hear his heavy, uneven pulls of breath. Finally, you fall to your knees and take one deep breath. The light-headedness outweighs the feeling of vomiting, but you manage to keep it together.

“Son of a bitch,” he says, in English this time, and you definitely hear the blade being pulled out and thrown to the side. It bounces and makes a mess everywhere it hits, and it lands right next to one of the bags you brought home.

Seungmin sighs and runs his fingers through his messy hair, “another fucking mess.” He says it in a sing-songy voice as he turns his head and looks for his knife.

You can see his face now, and it changes immediately when he notices the bags. His eyes grow, and his tongue pokes out a little between his lips. First he looks at his work again, and the mess of blood slowly pouring onto the carpet. Then he looks at the door, which you know he can see is unlocked. If the stranger would have beat him to it…well, you’d rather not think about that. Finally, he turns his head. His eyes seem to soften as they land on you, and something about his face looks guilty.

“Hey,” he says, and very carefully stands up. Seungmin towers over the body, examines it again, and then adjusts his shorts. It’s the only thing he’s wearing, except for two silver necklaces, and a little bit of blood on his stabbing hand. “Hey…I thought you’d be out longer,” he quickly closes the space between you and kneels a few feet away. "Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

You stay in your spot and watch him as he heads for the sink to wash his hands…once, and then a second time.

“You okay?” He kneels again, much closer this time, and places his hand on your knee. “Hm?” Seungmin keeps his face relaxed, and his eyes heavy, as if he’s trying his best not to make this seem as serious as it really is. To him, it is nothing, you think, and he may be lacking a bit in empathy, but he’s smart enough to know that what you just witnessed was a lot. “Do you wanna stand with me?”

No, you don’t, but you nod anyway and give him your hands.

He stares at you for a long time, silent, wondering what to say next. “Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower? I’ll set some clothes in there for you.”

“Why?”

“Because when you come out, you’ll feel a little better, and everything will be back to normal.”

“Normal?”

“Yeah, mostly. Please, just give me…30 minutes.”

“How are you going to fix this in a half an hour?”

That’s a very good question. Seungmin can clean up in that span of time, but he certainly can’t dispose of this body, as well. Luckily, he usually has a backup plan floating around in his head. “You’ll have to believe me.” He relaxes the vice grip he has on your wrists and slides his hands up your arms. “Try to.”

/ / /

He digs out the hard shell suitcase from the living room closet, and thanks himself for choosing a smaller kill this time. This is not how he likes doing things, and the knife is also not his favorite, but what he really doesn’t like is having an audience. This is a first. At least he didn’t know until after the fact.

As soon as the body, his shoes, his shirt, and whatever else he took off, is out of his sight, he focuses on the carpet. He rolls the rug up neatly, cuts it off as cleanly as possible, and wraps it as tightly as he can in several layers of garbage bags. Luckily, nothing made it down to the hardwood floor. Only a few little spots from the knife need to be cleaned. And the knife, of course. The biggest problem now is how he’s getting this down 26 floors to the basement, two separate times before he has a chance to get to the bedroom.

Seungmin tries his best, and he underestimates how good he really is. He locks everything away in his basement storage, for now, and gets back to the apartment with time to spare. Maybe you’ll give him a few extra minutes. Or maybe you’ll stay in there until he comes to get you.

The bedroom isn’t bad, but you know what was going on in here. He pulls off the bedspread and replaces it with a heavy blanket, just big enough to cover the king-size bed. The clothes on the floor get tossed in the hamper. Everything is thrown back in his drawer, neatly, or in the trash. He’s never worked so fast, because he’s never had to, and he really hopes he never has to speed run this again.

Last, he looks down at himself. He’s sweating, and out of breath, but luckily, he can’t find a splatter of blood on him. He rips off the tshirt and sweatpants, and replaces them with fresh ones.

You still haven’t made a sound, thirty-seven minutes later, so Seungmin knocks… “Hey, do you need anything?”

“Can I come out?”

He smiles at your small, timid voice. “Yes, you can come out.”

Seungmin looks around with you, a little paranoid he forgot something in his rush, but everything looks normal. Everything except the missing piece of carpet. He follows as you walk over to inspect the area, and when you seem satisfied, he follows into the bedroom.

“Where is it, the body?” You look around carefully. This is the first time you really explore his bedroom, and Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind when you end up at one of his bookshelves.

“Not here, not in the apartment.” He watches your hand reach for the music box, but you don’t open it. Your finger slides over the lid, and then you move on to the withering vase of flowers.

“You need some fresh heliotrope. We can change the water, though…they might perk up for another day.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Seungmin’s heart starts to race, and he doesn’t know why. It picks up even more when you return to the music box, gently pop the latch, and open it. He holds his breath, but luckily, he didn’t wind it. It’s quiet.

“Oh, this…” a dainty silver chain is pinched between your fingers, but you examine it closely before you continue, “no, it’s almost the same.” You hold it up so the St. Michael medallion hangs and sways like a pendulum. “Is this yours?”

“It belonged to my mother. So did the music box.” Seungmin reaches out and grabs the charm between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I guess it’s mine.” How did we get from there, to here? he thinks to himself. You don’t ask him anything else—you carefully set the necklace back inside, close it, and pick up the vase of flowers.

“Where did you get these? Is there a greenhouse nearby?

It takes so much of his energy not to tell you exact truths right now, and he doesn’t know why. Seungmin can’t help but want you to ask him what happened; what did you walk into? Why aren’t you more shaken by this? You did have time to think in the shower, but thinking is one thing, and demanding more information is another. He was actually ready to explain himself. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Can we go get more?” Your voice fades as you head for the kitchen, to the sink, where you carefully replace the water in the vase.

No, Seungmin doesn’t think he can handle that right now. He’s never quite sure when he can, and he usually has to force himself. That might be the case soon. He does need to replace these.

“You gonna dry these, too?”

“…are you okay?”

He assumes by the long silence and the way you’re staring at the flowers…probably not. It was a good act, but you still don’t say anything when you walk back to the bedroom and set the vase back in its spot.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” Again, you leave the room. Seungmin is beginning to dislike not getting a proper response from you. “Dammit…will you please just answer me?”

You’ve been trying to think of a way to answer him—you really have. This entire day, aside from your alone time shopping, has been strange, and so uncomfortable. He can’t possibly expect you to just be okay, though…Seungmin isn’t stupid. He just wants something, anything besides you changing the subject again. But how are you supposed to tell him the kill wasn’t the worst part? Or that you weren’t even completely sure he was telling you the truth about his killing? You actually thought for a moment that he made the whole thing up, or exaggerated. You don’t have to wonder about that anymore. He did it, and it wasn’t his first time. “I’m okay, it was just,” you think, stall for another few seconds, “hearing you in there with someone else caught me off-guard.”

“Oh, that’s all? I thought I scared you...set off another panic attack, maybe.” The look you give him makes him revisit his response. “It was just a blowjob, I barely touched him, but that will happen again.”

“I know”

“You're jealous?” Seungmin smirks and takes a step toward you. “Is that it?”

“No, I’m not jealous,” you lie. What a stupid lie. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Nobody else lives in my house, or spends my money.” Another step. “Right?”

“Yes”

Close enough to kiss, but no. He reaches out, touches your neck, and leans forward as he does, “nobody else sleeps in my bed.” You can see yourself in his unblinking eyes, until he’s even closer. His lips ghost over your forehead, moving slowly over your temple, and to the spot just above your ear. He kisses once. “Just you.”

A moment of courage comes over you—he’s so close, and he smells so good, and you need to touch him. His hips feel good in your hands, and when he makes a sound, you move them slowly up his sides. You haven’t forgotten, he’s sensitive here.

Seungmin moves down until his breath tickles your ear, “but nobody touches you,” he kisses again, “or I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t want anyone else”

“Good. Now…are you gonna show me what you bought?”

/ / /

“I can try some, right?” He leans back on the couch, yawns, and stretches. Everything suddenly feels very normal. He feels like himself right now, and you suspect it’s his post-kill high.

The way his eyes follow you all over the room is suffocating, though. For some reason, it's making you feel shy, and way too seen. You can’t figure out what it is he sees in you, and what wants from you, and from all of this. What are you giving that somebody else couldn’t? If you knew what he looked for in his victims, maybe it’d be easier to figure out, but you don’t know. You don’t know why he talked to you that morning.

“Yeah, you bought it”

One of the things you bought, something you definitely didn’t need, was 70,000 won almond blossom tea. You only wandered into the shop to escape the crowd, but the owner let you try a sample, and it was impossible to pass up after tasting it. The scent, and the flavor took you back to the warmth of him wrapped around you this morning. It felt good.

Seungmin sneaks up behind you, and when his hand squeezes your waist, the hot water almost ends up on the counter. “It’s pretty…it smells nice,” he’s so close, you can almost feel his lips on you. “How long?”

“Two minutes.” You didn’t think brewing tea would make him so touchy and sweet, but you’ve started expecting pretty much anything from him. “Maybe a little less.”

“Show me something you bought”

“Pick something”

He slides away and heads for the three large bags at the end of the couch, and then he peeks in each one. “Okay, let’s try this one.” He reaches in and pulls out a smaller bag from inside the large one.

“Oh, maybe not that one…”

“Why not?”

“Pick something else”

“Okay, I’ll try again.” He reaches into another large bag, and again, pulls out a small one. “This one, you can’t say no.”

You nod and hand him his tea, “I won’t say no,” and take a sip. He does, too, and you watch him. “Do you like it?”

Before he answers, he takes one more slow sip, and a smile appears. His cheeks round out, and you see the shine of his teeth behind his lips. “I do…it’s nice and sweet.”

“Good,” you peek in the small bag and pull out a flat white box.

Seungmin watches the little golden movements as he swirls his cup, closes his eyes, and drinks again. Memories pop up in his mind: the kitchen, and the sun coming in through the window above the sink. His favorite chair—it faced the stove where he watched her cook every morning, every afternoon. Bundles of dried flowers hanging by the doorway, and the sweet smell of yakgwa if he behaved all week. Sometimes even if he didn’t.

He doesn’t realize how quickly he drains his cup, and he hopes you’ll make him another one.

“Hey…you there?”

“Hm? Yes, I’m here…sorry”

“I wasn’t sure about getting them, or about getting anything for you. So I hope it’s okay.”

“You bought something for me?" His eyes grow as he looks at the box, "this was supposed to be your shopping trip.”

Still soft, and you hope with everything you have that he stays like this for a little longer. Tonight, in the morning, and maybe through tomorrow. You think it, scream it in your head. Maybe he’ll pick up on it just enough. Maybe it’s the tea. You should make him more.

“I know, but…”

“Let me see," he moves the tissue paper out of the way and looks, touches the soft fabric first, and then carefully picks it up.

“It’s corny, I’m sorry”

“Corny? No, they're beautiful.” He reaches in and picks up the second silky handkerchief, and runs his thumb over the embroidered purple flowers, every petal, “and these won't die." Seungmin keeps one and hands the other back to you. You don't know, of course, but this is the first gift he's been given in years.

“Oh, they came as a pair…you don’t want both?”

“No, you keep one. It doesn’t look like you bought much for yourself.”

He’s right, you didn’t get as much as you should have, and that explains why you got back early and interrupted his work. You should have made a list.

“We can go again tomorrow. Maybe you just need company.”

“Company? You’re gonna go shopping with me?”

“Yes, we can do that. We can get lunch somewhere nice, and maybe we can go get more flowers...what? Is that okay?”

Whatever confused look you’re giving him, he caught it. This is the Seungmin from last night, just happier, and more euphoric. “Yeah, we should do that. How about we have more tea, and then we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

“It has, but I need to bleach my hair”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I almost forgot. There were a lot of people around earlier, when I…you know, picked him.”

“I can help if you’d like. And make you some more tea.”

/ / /

The orangey-blonde head of hair sticking out from the covers confuses you in your half-sleep. It’s early, and you set an alarm, but you can’t remember why. Last night hasn’t come back to you quite yet. The puppy plush is in the gap between you, and you really don’t remember putting him there last night. But he’s there, sitting up, almost like he just walked up and took a seat. He’s still a mystery, just like his owner.

The bleach job didn’t work as well as he’d hoped last night, because he forgot he just tried to darken it a few days before. It’s still soft and pretty, and even in his sleep, his bangs frame his face perfectly. Lucky for him, he’s handsome enough to pull anything off.

Seungmin squirms, rolls onto his other side, and settles again. Now, looking at his face, you remember why you set that alarm. How could you forget? You have the day planned out with him, and you’re counting on a smile when he finally wakes up. Something put him in a better mood, a mood good enough for a date, and you suspect it was two kills in three days. He moves again, but you don’t want to wake him yet. He looks happy, or at least comfortable. If he’s dreaming, it’s not strong enough to show, so maybe he got a good night of sleep. Again, you think, hope, plead for the same man to be there when he wakes.

His eyelashes flutter a few times, and open slowly. Close again, open. He looks at the dog, blinks, and then he finds you. Your stomach swirls with butterflies as he stares, and finally, after really waking up, a smile pulls on his lips—a sweet, sleepy smile.

“Jal jat-ssuh?”

“Ne,” he laughs. “That sounded good. Did you?”

“I did”

“Is my hair still orange?” He sits himself up and pulls on a piece to check.

Hopefully it doesn’t discourage him from today’s plans. Hopefully he remembers today’s plans. “It is, it looks good on you, though. A very handsome tangerine.”

“Tangerine? Do you like tangerines?”

“I love them”

“We’ll get some today”

He didn’t forget, and he’s still okay. Seungmin’s head falls back to the pillow, eyes close again, but his smile stays on his lips. And then he starts to hum. If this mood lasts long enough, maybe you can finally hear him sing. You let him go for a little while longer, until he starts to quiet, probably dozing off again…

Seungmin is cute when he’s focused, and he’s very focused on the grill between you; poking and flipping the meat, plating it carefully. His mouth is squished to one side, and the dimple on his cheek is especially noticeable.

“You’re good at this”

“Hm? Oh, sorry, I’m so used to eating alone. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“I am, too, it’s okay.” You take the plate from him, and he hands you a few of the things he hoarded on his side of the table. “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” He takes a very big bite of zucchini, and it takes a few moments for him to get it down. “I feel…pretty good. Better now that we’re eating. I don’t like being hungry.”

“Good. The mall was pretty crowded, so it was nice not being alone. Still, it’s a little overwhelming.”

“We shouldn’t have to do it again for a while. I think we replaced everything you lost, plus extra.”

“Too much extra”

“No, not if it makes you happy”

Happy Seungmin is still here, and now he has a full stomach...even better. You can’t get attached to this feeling, but you’ve become much more attached to him than you thought was possible it such a short amount of time—all of him, good and bad…and the bad still seems to outweigh the good by a lot. It doesn’t seem believable, looking at him right now, but this was him the day you met, you think. Maybe not completely, because he was obviously on the hunt when you showed up, but this Seungmin was there, a little bit. You could feel it—he felt right. He still does.

“Sitting here with you makes me happy”

He stops stirring his broth and looks at you. Was that too much? It was too much, you might as well have just told him you love him. What if you trigger something, and whatever is going on in his head changes completely? You need to get a hold on whatever is going on in your own head. He’s staring, and you can feel it, even with your eyes fixed on your plate.

“Why?” He whispers. You barely hear it, and it’s as if he’s speaking to himself. Asking himself. “I haven’t done anything to make you feel that way.”

“Yes you have”

“Tell me”

The server interrupts with more banchan, more water, more tea. It gives you a whole ten seconds to think, and not sound like an idiot when you answer. Does he really want to know, or is he just putting you on the spot?

“You came back for me, and you took care of me…do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“I tend to forget what I say, apparently”

There’s some attitude in his voice, and you immediately regret saying it. He obviously remembers you asking him the same thing yesterday morning.

“I remember. Depends, though, I said a lot of things.” He moves his eyes around as he thinks, and you’re relieved to see a smirk pop up. “But I assume you’re referring to…killing anyone who touches you.”

He did say a lot of things last night, but yeah…you nod at him.

“You liked that.” No more attitude. He whispers, almost growls under his breath. “Didn’t you?” His eyes are so heavy, and dark. He’s still smiling, but it’s different. It’s so much different. “You did.”

“Maybe”

“Speaking of that..someone in here has been staring at you since we walked in”

“I doubt that”

His eyes move slowly to the left, and stay there. You look in the same direction as discreetly as possible, and you see who he’s talking about—it’s the bartender, and Seungmin is right. He wipes down the bar and smiles at you, but looks away almost immediately after. Maybe the timing was just a coincidence, though.

“He’s just looking. He barely looked.”

“I don’t really like that, either”

“Seungmin”

A shiver runs over you when he says your name…whispers it. “Why don’t you get up and head to the bathroom. Leave the door unlocked.” He cocks his head to the side when you don’t move, or respond. “Please.”

He smiles when you push your chair back, and shows you all of his teeth when you stand. Still happy. If this keeps him that way, he doesn’t have to ask again—as if you'd deny him. Your legs already shake at the thought of him touching you. The bartender's eyes are on you as you walk by, and you feel them linger as you disappear down the short hallway toward the (luckily) private bathroom. You close the door, lean against it, and look around. It’s nice, at least.

Thirty or so seconds pass between you closing the door, and his soft knock. You don’t know why your heart races. It could be that you’ve never done this before, and it doesn’t help that the bartender saw both of you come back here, and he knows exactly what’s going on. If you’re nervous enough, you won’t be able to do this, and he’ll be very disappointed.

The doorknob turns, and he comes in slowly. It’s just Seungmin, there’s no reason to be nervous, and it’s just public sex…very public for you…but your stomach drops when you see someone else…not him, not even close. You only see the face for a split second before he disappears—pulled backward so fast, and with so much force, the door slams shut again. A thud on the other side of the wall echoes through you, through the bathroom, and you have to assume through the entire restaurant. And then, right before you pull the door open, you hear it again. The man—the bartender, is on the floor, flat on his back with one hand covering his bloody face, and there’s a crack in the plaster wall. Seungmin is standing over him, still seeing red, but showing some restraint by not touching him again.

“Wh-what happened?”

He grabs your arm and pulls you closer. “Naleul bwa...” He nudges the man with his foot until he removes his hand and looks up. “Creep.”

A small crowd gathers at the end of the narrow hallway, but he pushes through, still holding you close. Nobody says a word or stops you as you grab your bags and head for the door, and as soon as you get outside, you’re both lost in the crowd.

“Stop, stop…Seungmin!”

“Yeah, what is it?” He slows down, but he doesn’t stop. “You okay?”

“What the hell happened?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s walking you as far away as possible, as calmly as possible. The look on his face is familiar, but different…nervous, worried, excited maybe. You can tell his adrenaline is sky high, and you don’t know why, but you assume this is unusual for him—this somewhat random act of violence. Almost everything you’ve witnessed from him has been disjointed and clumsy, but he hasn’t been caught yet, so you know he’s been careful up until this point. You’re messing him up.

Finally, he stops and lets you catch your breath.

“We’ll head back, drop your things off…”

“Seungmin”

“I’ll drive us to Uljin, if you still want to get flowers”

“Uljin?”

“Yeah, let’s go before we miss the train”

The train is crowded, of course—standing room only, and Seungmin’s fingers grip your wrist the entire time. He’s clearly overwhelmed and soothing himself; there’s nothing romantic or possessive about it, he’s just suddenly very nervous about something. Either the crowd, or what just happened. You change the subject for now, not wanting to move his mind around the incident anymore than necessary. “Uljin is far.”

“I know. I can get us there in three hours, and if you’re tired we can wait until morning to drive back.”

You close the space still left between you, until your face grazes his sweatshirt, “why so far for flowers?” The small corner of the silk handkercheif just pokes out from his back pocket. You didn't notice it before, or catch him putting it there before you left this morning.

“They’re the best ones. And they’re always there for me.”

The ride wasn’t as long and awkward as you feared it would be. Both of you were silent most of the way, but Seungmin kept his music low the entire time, not once deviating from whatever playlist he initially put on. It feels like he’s made this drive more than a few times, and he has a set routine. As you moved closer and closer to the end of the drive, everything became greener, and darker. Lush and beautiful in some spots, but desolate and almost forgotten in others. It all seemed to reflect him.

You’re not sure how far out you are from the destination when he makes the second and final stop, but it’s been three hours, almost exactly, so you wonder why he made another stop at all.

He doesn’t go inside the gas station, but you do. For no reason, really. You check yourself in the bathroom mirror, grab some water, and then watch him for a moment before leaving. Maybe he just needed to stretch his legs—he’s walking slowly toward the edge of the pumps, and then across toward where a small section of woods start. It zig-zags upward and into a much larger section that you can’t see the end of. Seungmin is staring through those trees, hands in his coat pockets, and he doesn’t move when you exit and jingle the bell above the door.

“Here, you haven’t had anything since we left.” He looks at the bottled water in your hands, sighs, and takes it.

“About twenty minutes…we should be there”

“Where exactly is there?” Seungmin downs half of his water before stopping and taking a breath. It’s cold out, but sweat is beading on his forehead and around his temples. You reach up and touch his cheek with the back of your hand, and he turns his head away. “Sorry. You’re very warm. Do you feel okay?”

He nods and takes another long drink, “there is the house I grew up in.”

“Oh.” They’re the best ones, and they’re always there for me makes much more sense now. It’s sentimental. The flowers here are special…special enough for a six-hour roundtrip drive.

The remainder of the trip takes you further into the woods. The road narrows, and the pine trees get closer and closer until, every mile or so, there’s a break in the woods, a clearing, and you can see the sky as it slowly darkens. You know when you arrive, because there’s one lonely hanok in the distance. Seungmin sighs again. He never turned the music back on, so you can hear every sound, and every breath. The snap of twigs under the tires, the chirp of bugs, and the chatter of a few magpies fills most of the silence.

“You grew up here?”

He doesn’t answer until you turn and look at him.

“Yeah, until I was nine. And then…” he can stop there. He doesn’t have to tell you every single thing. You’re just making conversation, not setting him down for therapy. “I got passed around to different family members.”

“Were they good to you?”

Somebody certainly wasn’t, and Seungmin knows you know that. He can feel you looking through him, gathering up his thoughts, and his feelings, and figuring things out on your own. “Yes, my grandparents did the best they could, and my aunts…they did, too.”

His answers just make more questions, considering his life now, but you’ll save them for another time.

The car comes to a slow stop. The house is dark and overgrown, but still somewhat looked after, you assume because of him. To your left is a large garden shed, not as well kept. Once, it was probably nice, but time was not kind to it. A little further down is a large greenhouse, also starting to show its age, but it’s iron and glass, and it’s standing strong without much help.

“Good”

“I wasn’t…uh,” he stops himself this time, and reconsiders. Instead of finishing his thought, he opens the door and steps out.

You do the same, and as soon as you stand and close the door, something hits you. It hits your chest, and works its way down to your stomach until you can’t stay on your feet. You kneel, trying not to fall onto the cold, damp ground, but your hands spread out in front of you as you lean forward and empty the contents of your stomach onto the grass.

“Fuck…what happened? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah I think so. Maybe.”

“Do you get car sick?”

His hand on your shoulders takes you back two nights, and the memory makes you feel a little bit better. Opening your eyes and staring into the distance makes it worse again. “No.”

“You’re warm, too”

“Maybe we should do this tomorrow, if we’re staying the night." After the long drive, Seungmin might want to do it now, so why are even asking? But you also know he doesn't feel well. The fever heat between the two of you could bloom more flowers. "We should."

“We can," he says, secretly a little grateful, “I’ll find a room somewhere”

He pulls you to your feet, and it feels awful, but once you’re up and leaning against him, the dizziness is gone. “We’re not staying here?”

“No, we wouldn’t be very comfortable in there”

/ / /

The sick feeling passes eventually, and the room Seungmin finds at the last minute is not far. It’s small, and it’s comfortable. He’s working on the instant tteokbokki a few feet away, very focused, just like he was at the restaurant.

“It smells good”

“Feeling better? We have frozen bungeoppang, too. The hosts are very generous, we got lucky.”

“Lucky, even with one tiny bed?”

“Yeah, even with one tiny bed,” he laughs, and looks at the twin-size bed tucked away in the corner. He’s reminded of the one in your apartment that he never got to try, and he’s surprised his mind can even go there right now. The memory of his last trip home is mostly a blur, even though it wasn’t more than a day or two before you showed up. “Let’s eat, and get into bed.”

Still happy. So why are you suddenly feeling so empty? “I don’t wanna go to sleep yet.” You pick at and stir your food, and watch him devour his. “Hey…”

“Yes?”

“What happened earlier, at the restaurant?”

He was hoping you forgot about that. Seungmin isn’t typically violent unless he plans on seeing it to the end, so today was unusual. He keeps himself out of sight, and out of people’s memories, because he can’t afford to be noticed that much. He doesn’t regret what he did, though, and he has no problem admitting to himself that it felt good. “Before I got up, he started following you. He watched you walk by, and maybe you looked at him and he thought it was an invitation…or he’s just a piece of shit taking advantage of the opportunity.”

“I don’t think I looked at him”

“I caught up, just in time”

“And smashed his face into the wall”

“I didn’t know what I was going to do, but yeah, it seemed like the best choice at the time”

“It was effective”

“Still ruined our moment.” Seungmin’s eyes are tired, but he’s obviously nudging you into bed for more than just sleep. He wants to make up for whatever lust was building inside of him earlier, and you haven’t told him no a single time yet. Why would he expect you to tell him no tonight? But you’re feeling off—much more than just tired. It may have been the adrenaline rush earlier, combined with the very long car ride. It could just be the new setting, because the new setting reminds you a little bit of home, right down to the claustrophobic woods and this 300 square feet of living space.

“Maybe we should go to sleep.” You say, staring hard at your food as you eat. “It’s been a long day.”

/ / /

The twin bed is perfect, at least for you. Seungmin backed himself against the wall and kept his hands to himself after you crawled in beside him, and luckily, there was nothing but sleep for both of you almost immediately. A sharp pinging sound wakes you, and you open your eyes to him at the tiny kitchen counter. The sound you hear is sleet falling against the window, and the realization makes you shiver under the covers…but the smell of brewing coffee brings you right back.

The icy rainfall picks up as you force yourself into a sitting position, but staying up is still hard, regardless of his soft good morning, and his eyes peeking over his mug.

“Morning.” The headache has been there for a while, but you’re conscious now, and really feeling it. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven, we slept a lot”

You count to three and force your feet onto the cold floor, “doesn’t sound like good driving weather out there,” and make it to the other stool, where now you see an empty mug and a plate of warm bungeoppang. Without a word, you reach a hand up and set it on his forehead. “How did you sleep?”

Seungmin doesn’t shake it away, but he gives you a confused look, and he shrugs. “I slept.”

“Did you have any dreams? Nightmares?”

“The usual. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Because you had one, too. “You had a fever yesterday. It’s gone.”

“I think you took it from me, you look miserable”

“Do I?” Miserable is a strong word, but the headache, and the slightly off feeling is definitely close. Maybe you’re allergic to something up here. You make a mental note to take something for that, and for the headache, just in case.

“As soon as the rain stops, we’ll get what we came for, and then head back. Eat something.”

/ / /

The drive through the narrow forest road is even crunchier this time. Tiny icicles hang off tree branches, and no bugs chirp this time…no birds sing. It’s somehow darker this afternoon than it was yesterday at dusk, and the low mist hanging over the property makes you wish you would have just gotten this over with yesterday. Something strange is definitely living in these woods It’s beautiful, though, in its own lonely way. It’s still very alive here and it breathes easily through the cracks in the wood.

Seungmin is quiet, and you expect that. Whatever you’re feeling right now, he must be feeling it threefold. This is his home—or it was, at least, at a very important time in his life. The memory of why he had to leave is still lingering here.

Greenhouse is all he says as he steps out. You follow, and this time, you feel okay when your feet hit the ground. The headache is still there, but not so bad that you can’t fight through it, so you catch up with him and try not to lose your footing in the soft, muddy ground.

“Take your time, it’s uneven down here”

You watch each step as you take it, and weave around the stones and spots where the grass is drowning from the melted snow and ice. Some spots are still slick, so you wonder how anything could possibly be hanging on mid-December…especially what he came for. Even inside the greenhouse. You catch a shine of light from the corner of your eye and stop, even as he bolts ahead of you. Something in the ruins of the shed catches what little bit of sunlight makes it through the clouds.

"Come on..."

The boots you wore could have been better; could have been worse. Seungmin’s Redwings are splattered and caked with mud, old and new, because he knew what he was getting into up here. These are specifically the boots he wears here, you think. No hunting, no murder, no body disposal. Every job has its own equipment.

It’s even prettier up close, and inside, through the condensation rising up every perfect panel of glass, you see green and yellow. Purple, and blue. He opens the door to the anteroom, and the sweet smell of flowers fills you up. When he opens the main door, the warmth still trapped inside almost knocks you on your back.

“Does someone tend to this all year, or…”

“No.” He heads to a workspace in the corner and picks up a pair of gardening shears, a little rusty, but probably still very sharp. “Nobody comes here but me.”

“I like it, it’s nice”

“Yeah?”

You catch up to him and nod, “mhm, I don’t like it outside, but this is better.”

Seungmin leads you to the spot filled with purple flowers. Some of them fill big decorative pots, and some are elevated on homemade wooden shelves, but the largest ones are in the ground. It’s a little bit chaotic, but something about it feels organized at the same time. It’s everywhere, but it’s everywhere exactly where somebody wanted it.

“I see why you came all this way. It’s yours.”

He doesn’t answer. Seungmin lowers himself to the ground and kneels, and you watch as he does nothing for a very long time. The sounds of the greenhouse take over; the creak of the panels as the wind outside hits, and the cries of the bugs. Whatever insects managed to make a home for themselves here are very happy. And it isn't until now that you notice the sound of a single windchime. You find a spot to sit and wait, but you keep your eyes on him. Eventually, after more of his silence passes, it feels as if you’re intruding on something very personal, so you stand, quietly turn away, and focus your attention on a different spot; on different flowers.

What he’s doing over there is more cathartic and necessary than you can imagine.

Seungmin is always careful about how much he cuts and where he cuts from. Some blossoms seem brighter than others, and those are the ones he knows he can take. But before he does anything…

“how have you been?”

It’s exceptionally quiet, and his voice, so soft and light, carries in the small space. At first, you assume he’s speaking to you, because he’s speaking English. But he’s not. You can’t block out his words, so you walk as far from him as you can in an attempt to give him some privacy, but…he knows you’re here. He invited you inside knowing what he was going to do.

“Okay, I guess…sometimes it’s tough to tell from the inside”

Silence. He waits a few moments before speaking again…

“I am, I promise”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　　

“I know, I’m not alone this time, isn’t that strange? It feels so strange”

⋆ . 　　˚　　　　*　　　

“Yes, it’s a good thing, I know”

　✦　˚ 　˖✶

“I’m trying really hard, I promise”

The silence is much longer this time. You think he might be finished, but he speaks one more time…

“Saranghaeyo…I love you, too”

You finally turn and look at him through a cluster of forget-me-nots, and he’s bowing so low you can hardly see him. The sound of the shears opening and closing finally comes, and you see him very carefully trimming what he needs. Two bundles. He takes both to the workspace, ties them with string, and wraps them gently in dark brown paper. The amount of care he takes is impressive, and he doesn’t rush through it. You take the opportunity to move closer to the blooms of heliotrope, but not too close. Just enough to admire them. They look like they just saw a warm, summer day, not the cold, icy morning you woke to. You almost forget it’s December as you stare at them.

“I’m ready, if you are.” His voice, still gentle, makes you jump.

“Yes, I’m ready”

“Oh, hold on.” Seungmin walks to the corner where you hid, looks around for something, and after a few minutes of him moving things around, digging, pulling, and digging again, he returns with dirt-covered hands and a small pot filled with the little blue flowers. “We’ll take these, too.”

He hands it over, and you hold it close as you start toward the cold again. The rain begins to fall as you carefully make your way back to the car, but it’s just a fine mist this time, no more ice. The bundles of heliotrope are placed in the backseat, but you hold tight to your flowers. Seungmin never implied they were yours, but you know they are. The forget-me-nots are for you.

The closer you get to Seoul, the more withdrawn you feel him becoming. There was some conversation this time, very minimal, and very light, but you said nothing of Uljin, or the greenhouse, or the conversation he had with the flowers. It slowly dwindled until it became a painful silence; no music, not even a contemplative sigh from him. You held your flowers and stared out of your window until the countryside slowly turned to small town, to city, to busy highways, and finally…home. Home?

“I’ll be gone for a few hours”

He tended to his flowers first. One bundle in the vase, the other tied and hung on the side of the window nearest the kitchen.

“Gone? You’re leaving?”

“Haven’t we seen enough of each other over the last two days?”

“Uhm…” Yeah, you guess so. “Sure.”

“I have to get rid of that body, and the carpet. It might take a while.”

The body. You completely forgot about two nights ago. How could you forget about watching him kill someone right in front of you? Luckily, Seungmin didn’t. He may have kept it at the front of his mind this entire time.

A quick change of clothes, and he’s gone without another word or glance in your direction.

The last two days and the night before was more than you expected from him—but enough? How could it possibly be enough? Whoever you were with today in the greenhouse, and in bed with yesterday morning; there’s so much of him you haven’t seen yet. You’ve barely met him. This was nowhere near enough.

So you shower and sort your things from your two shopping trips in an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But where to put them? Not in his drawer, because you need permission for that, and not in his neat, organized (full) closet. Eventually, you decide on folding and setting most of it on the chest near his bookshelves. The vase of flowers sit brand new and bright and fragrant exactly where the previous ones did, and now you have a chance to really look at them; you touch the delicate little petals and lean forward to take in more of the scent, and you wonder what exactly all of this means to him, because it’s something very special. Some of it you think you can figure out on your own, but you know there’s much more.

The flowers send your thoughts back to the music box. Your fingers itch to touch it again—to pick it up and turn the key, so you do. Seungmin isn’t here, and he might not be back for hours, and maybe he wouldn’t mind you looking at everything more closely. He didn’t seem to mind the first time. You pick it up and examine it in the low light. On top, there's a design burned and stained into the wood: a cloud-covered full moon shining down on a leaping rabbit. You turn the key three times, and hold it as it plays a sweet, sad melody that you don’t recognize. Inside you see the necklace, the one that looks almost exactly like yours, a silver bracelet, and a ring that could only be a wedding band. There’s a small piece of worn paper tucked into the corner, folded into the shape of a butterfly, and you leave that alone. You can see little bits of Hangul written on it, so clearly, it’s some sort of note. Even if you could read it…well, you could always use your phone and translate it—no, it’s none of your business.

The drawer could be your business, though. You’ve already seen it, and you can’t imagine it’s much different now than it was that night, but just thinking about it gets your heart racing.

You click his lamp on first, and look at everything sitting on the table. These are things you haven’t done yet, and there are so many little details about him still to learn. His glasses sit in their open case; a pair of thick black-rimmed ones, not the ones you’ve seen him in. His other ones, the ones that suited him so well, were round metal frames, and they’re not here. His silver Chanel necklace is here, and two prescription bottles that you never noticed before. KIM SEUNGMIN is written on the side of both—lorazepam (the little white pill he offered during your panic attack) and haloperidol. The haloperidol doesn’t look like it’s been touched, but the other is nearly empty. So, he has been diagnosed with something, and medicated for it, he just hasn’t followed through with his treatment. Maybe he’s tried, and it didn’t work—or it didn’t work the way he wanted it to. Finally, the drawer. It’s a little messier than you remember, but not bad. He probably hasn’t touched it since he killed two nights ago because the knife isn’t back in its spot. The sheath is there, and the cuffs, the gag. You carefully pick up one of the syringes and examine it, turn it so you can see the liquid inside move around like a tiny lava lamp. Still three of them. Further back, you feel something else. Something small. It’s an earring, just a tiny gold cuff, and it looks familiar. You reach and touch the top of your left ear, and you realize it’s yours. It must have fallen off while you slept, and he found it, and threw it in his drawer…but why didn’t he just return it?

Just as you put it back and turn off the lamp, you hear the click of the lock. You’d like to stay up and greet him, but if he’s still in the mood he was when he left, it might not be worth it. Instead, you climb under the covers and turn off the lamp on your side. He doesn’t come in right away. You can hear him go straight to the shower, and you stay awake and listen the whole twenty minutes he spends in there. Next, you hear him in the kitchen, and the thought makes your stomach growl. You haven’t eaten since midway through the ride home earlier, and that’s hardly worth mentioning. Maybe you should get up and see him, eat with him, if that’s what he’s doing. But you can’t move. You look at your phone: 9 pm. It’s not late at all, but the dark and the cold makes it feel so much later.

As soon as you smell coffee brewing, you decide to get up and check on him.

Seungmin is sitting in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, head down, face completely hidden in his hands. You can’t actually go out there and face him—no, you’re going to be a coward, because the possibility of his anger, no matter how small, is already making you tear up. But his little movements, the shake of his shoulders, make you think that’s what he’s already doing. You push the door up and slink back to bed and under the covers, and this time you somehow fall asleep.

/ / /

The cold air and smell of cigarette smoke wake you, hardly half an hour later, and as soon as you open your eyes, Seungmin slides the balcony door closed. You briefly shut them again when he walks up your side of the bed, and heads to his bookshelf. He looks at the flowers but does nothing else, and because he turned his lamp back on, you can see his face, and you can tell he was crying. He lifts his arm and wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, so you have to assume he just managed to stop while he smoked.

He stretches his neck, pulls his sweatshirt off, and heads for his side of the bed. You feel the blankets shift, and the movement as he sits and slides himself underneath. Then you hear the rattle of a pill bottle…the full one, but you don’t hear him remove the lid. He shakes it again, as if he’s looking at it and thinking, but places it back on the table, unopened. You’re relieved when he finally settles onto his pillow. You can relax again, maybe even turn and face him in your pretend sleep, but you don’t get a chance; Seungmin moves closer, and closer. You try not to jump when his hand slides hesitantly up your arm, over your shoulder, and then back down. He moves once more, until his chest can press against your back.

You’re positive he can feel your racing heart, your erratic breathing. His steady breath is traveling down your neck, under the collar of his tshirt you’re still wearing. Should you say something, let him know you’re awake and here with him? It’s possible the thought of you sleeping while he does this makes it easier, and you don’t want to ruin that, so you wait. His hand is on you again, but the touch is still hesitant and stuttery. Seungmin is thinking about his next move. He’s unsure.

After a few more moments, it slides between your arm and your waist, wraps around your stomach, and gently squeezes. He’s pulling you tight against him, finally, all of him. His forehead rests against the nape of your neck; his hips, his thighs, all curve and surround you. Skin on skin, warm under the blankets. You wait until you feel him relax, then set your hand over his…

“Oh, did I wake you?”

“No, you didn’t.” You feel him pull his hand back, but you hold tight and lace your fingers with his. “You didn’t.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Not long, I heard you coming in from the balcony.” Seungmin isn’t as relaxed now. You can feel his body tense, and his breathing change. “I felt you climb into bed.”

He pulls away again, and this time, he escapes your grasp. Seungmin pushes himself back, and when you turn to look, he’s already facing away, readjusting himself back into his spot.

“Seungmin?” Does he think you saw him crying? He must, and he’s right. Should you tell him he’s allowed to do that? “Can I come over there?” You whisper. “Please.”

“If you want to”

“I do,” you crawl to him and get back under the blankets, but instead of wrapping an arm around his waist, you grab his hip and pull until he’s flat on his back. “If…you want me to,” you really hope your smile will spread to him, but he just looks exhausted. His eyes are red and swollen, and his face is pale.

“Say it again,” he mumbles.

“Say what?"

Seungmin lets you push the hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes. “My name."

“Your name?”

He nods and closes his eyes, so your gaze drops to his lips—you haven’t kissed them in a long time, and now seems like the perfect opportunity. “Seungmin.”

“Mm, I like the way it sounds when you say it”

“Have I been saying it okay? Is my accent messing it up?”

“No…it’s perfect”

You take a chance while his eyes are still closed, first at the corner of mouth, and then a little closer. He doesn’t move, so you press your lips firmly against his. He returns it, and his breath deepens. You think he might stop at any moment, so you enjoy it—the way he tastes, the coffee and the leftover minty sweetness of his cigarette. He stays, though. He touches you. Seungmin’s hand moves to your waist and pulls you closer, and you think, maybe the night will be okay now…but it doesn’t last very long. It’s gone, and he turns his head until you stop kissing. Your lips land on his neck, and they stay there.

“Seungmin” you say again, whispering it slowly and carefully.

“I haven't been feeling very good”

“You haven't? What is it?”

He sniffles, and moves his legs against yours under the blankets. Seungmin is warm, but not fever-warm, and something tells you he doesn’t mean physically. Maybe he’ll open up this door, though. Telling you he isn’t feeling well is already a lock unlocked.

But he doesn’t say another word. What he does do is let you touch—he relaxes again as your palm slides over his chest, down his stomach. You press your lips to his collarbone and make a path across his shoulder. “Tell me what’s hurting.”

“Everything”

“Everything?”

“Almost everything”

"Your body?"

He slowly shakes his head.

"Something up here?"

Seungmin's eyes dart toward you as your fingers run through his hair. He thinks for a long moment before answering. "A little."

"Alright, one more...here?"

His hand closes over yours on his chest, but he doesn't give you a yes or no answer. If it's a yes, which you suspect it is, he's probably not going to give you anything else. You leave it at that.

“Tell me what feels okay, maybe it’ll help a little,” you follow the path you made, returning to his collarbone, and working your way up his neck. This time he’s more receptive to it, and his cheek turns to press against yours. “What feels good?”

Seungmin sets his hand on the small of your back and brings you closer. “Good?”

“Mhm…and how can I make it even better? Let me make you feel good.”

“Bite”

“Bite?”

“Right there, please”

You don’t bite yet, but you kiss him again, lick, and graze your teeth across his skin. “Right here?”

The sound he makes is small, and desperate, like he’s afraid you might not do it. “Please.”

Very cautiously, you suck the skin again, and bite until he makes another sound. It feels like a lot of pressure, but it’s not enough for him. You try again.

“Yeah…like that,” he moans, and squirms beneath you, “don’t be shy.”

The spot you sunk your teeth into starts to turn red, and the marks are there…but you didn’t break the skin. You kiss it, and then kiss a new spot just below it and nibble. When he squirms again, you bite down hard, and this time he sounds satisfied. He grabs your hand and guides it under his waistband, and you bite again when your fingers move over his head, down the length of his cock. You stroke him, and watch him watch you work.

“Don’t stop,” he brings you down to his chest, and when your tongue finds his nipple, “harder please”…you bite, and his hips push into your touch. “Fuck.”

You don’t hold back this time, and you feel the skin break between your teeth. The coppery taste of blood hits your tongue when you lick the spot, and Seungmin makes a sound like he’s never made for you before, and he moans your name…

“Seungmin”

“Mmm…yeah?” He sighs and grips your arm as you stroke, “yeah?” and he smiles as his head hits the pillow. Blood starts to bead from the mark on his chest, and it slowly drips down toward his stomach.

You watch it, then look at him, and the urge to clean it off is too strong to ignore. This is new for you. Is it new for him? Before you get the chance to try, he sits up. “Oh, you gonna bite me?”

Seungmin smiles, shakes his head, “no,” and gets himself out of his shorts, “no, sit back…” he touches you, and slides his hands up your outer thighs, but instead of undressing, they come back down, caressing, squeezing, as if he’s taking a moment to admire you. It gives you a knot in your stomach, the thought of it, and the look on his face. The next time they move up, he grabs your underwear and pulls.

The knot grows; the nervous feeling in your stomach won’t go away, and you don’t know why, because you’ve been here already. You’ve been with him, no panic attack. Again, he touches—very softly runs his fingertips over the top of your thigh and to your knee.

“Give me your arms, hold onto me.” He throws more pillows behind you, and rearranges them while he holds you against him. It feels so sweet and so personal, how he’s tending to the spot where he wants you. “Comfortable?”

“Oh…yeah,” you grip the back of his neck, and the other hand digs into his side. “This is nice.”

“Mm, your nails are sharp”

“Are they? Sorry,” you adjust your hold on him, but he shakes his head as you do.

“No…do your worst. Or your best, I guess.”

The thin line of blood running down his chest is beginning to dry, and the marks you made all over him are darkening. He wants more, though, and you can do that. You gently rake your fingers up his back…just enough to tickle, and then back down with a little more pressure. At the same time, his fingers tease you, ghosting up and down so perfectly and carefully.

You spread your legs in anticipation of more. “Hey,” you whisper. His eyes are wide open, but focused elsewhere, just away from you. He’s thinking hard, or spacing out…you can’t tell. “Look at me.”

A little smile tugs at his lips when he looks up, “hm?” And his eyes are big and shining inches from yours, ready to swallow you up. He pushes his hair away from his forehead and comes in for a kiss, and you’re not prepared. At all. It’s just like the elevator kiss—so deep and eager like he can’t get close enough. You fall back on your spot and pull him with you, and he keeps going, slips his tongue in, and moans softly into your mouth. You scratch across his back, not enough to mark, and he does it again.

Each time, you give him more. A little more pressure, a little slower.

He slides in, and with each push, hits deeper and stretches more. His lips keep kissing, though, like he’s trying to distract from the pain he might be causing as he pushes every inch into you. But with every twinge of pain, you dig deeper, pull so slowly, and feel your nails get close to breaking skin.

When you open your eyes to check, his upper back is so much more red and angry than you anticipated.

“Don’t stop,” he whines as he finally pulls away from the kiss.

“It looks so sore…Seungmin, I dunno if I can…” from here you see old scratches mixed in with the new ones, much older, scarred over—they look like more than scratches. How did you never notice them before? You’ve never seen him like this, in this light.

“You can,” he pants, “please.”

The skin is hot when you touch it, and you wince just thinking about how it must feel, but Seungmin doesn’t make a sound when you graze over it. He does, however, let you know that he likes it when you push your nails in again. One more swipe and you see blood.

You stop, and he doesn’t ask you to do it again—instead, he pushes in fully and stays there, kisses and sucks at your neck, nibbles a little, but nothing like what you did to him.

“Good,” he sighs and pushes your thighs upward, and he starts to move in and out, slow at first, but he can’t help himself. His breath catches as he speeds up, and loses himself in the moment, but still, he stays in your neck, moaning against your skin, and breathing down your back…into your ear where he whispers a fuck…fuck, as if he could come any second.

“Slow,” you knead your fingers into his hip, hold him off a little bit, “slow down, relax.”

Seungmin listens and does his best, but it feels too good.

“We have all night...all night”

But this is what he needs. He wants it now. This will make him feel better. All of this. The sting of his back, the gentle throb from each little bite mark, you squeezing so tight around him.

You place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere…Seungmin?” Then move it to the nape of his neck, being careful not to touch the scratches.

This time, he slows much more, almost stops. You worry for a moment and wonder if the words didn’t fall quite right on his ears, but you meant want you said—you’re not leaving.

“I do want you…all night,” Seungmin smiles, and he lets out a laugh tinged with nerves, as if he’s embarrassed about admitting exactly what he wants, or what he needs.

“Good. Did this…” you touch the spot on his chest, and smear the almost dried blood. Then you touch another. “Did this help?”

“A little”

“Sit up,” you hook your arm around his neck as he rises, and now you can slide onto his lap. “Hold onto me.”

Seungmin holds you where you are, hands on your hips, eyes on the space between you. You lift yourself, and you don’t have to tell him what to do—you’re more than ready for him again, and his cock slides in smoothly as you come down.

“Oh, that’s good.” Seungmin is smiling again, and his satisfied laugh is much less anxious. He grabs the back of your shirt and pulls so he can see everything as you move up and down on him…”neomu johda” he mumbles under his breath, “nice and slow,” lifts your shirt over your head, and both arms wrap around you.

“Much better, yeah?”

His presses his cheek against your chest, and you can feel his nod.

“I don’t mind working for it”

Seungmin laughs again, and turns his face to kiss wherever he can get to; your shoulders, your throat, down your chest to the soft skin of your breast. He’s surprisingly gentle when he gets there, and even more so when he runs his tongue around your nipple. He stares up at you, eyes wide and shining, as if he’s waiting for something…your reaction, your approval. It’s not a side of him you’ve seen—you didn’t think he even had a side like this.

You run the pad of your thumb just under his eye, where a faint scar shines in the light, and he smiles again. His face disappears against you, so all you see is the top of his peachy-colored head. Seungmin squeezes you close before letting go, and he falls back to rest on his palms.

“Cute”

His eyes open even wider, “what?” And he very slowly lowers himself as you push him flat on his back. “Me?”

“Maybe”

“Maybe?”

“You know what would be really cute?” You ask.

“What’s that?”

“You…coming for me”

Seungmin smirks when you laugh, and slowly rolls his hips, “so I can come now?” Your laugh turns to a moan. He does it again, and takes your hands in his. “How’s that feel?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t stop”

He doesn’t. Seungmin rolls his hips, sliding in and out so smoothly, but the stretch, the pain—this pain feels so good, just like his pain, your bites and your scratches. And the pressure as you finally get all of him in, when your body finally slams into his hips, Seungmin moves faster and faster, pulling you down close enough to kiss as he fucks you. He bites softly at your lip, slides his tongue against yours. The kiss throws you over the edge, and your orgasm hits so fast, and so hard, you scream right down his throat. His cum runs warm out of you as he slows, and stops, but you keep kissing, and Seungmin returns it.

“Okay,” you don’t want to, but you pull away to breathe, and Seungmin pulls you back for one more, “okay.” You lay down on him and try to catch your breath, listen as he catches his, and close your eyes to the feel of his chest rising and falling. One hand slides across your shoulders, and the other sets at his side, fingers fidgeting and picking at the blanket, and everything feels good, and normal.

The rumble in his chest as he groans and sighs brings you back a little, but you’re not ready to be back quite yet. It’s too nice, laying here on his chest, listening to the wild beat of his heart. But you give in, and look up at him—Seungmin is just as relaxed, maybe more. You slowly lift yourself off of him, and pull at the blankets, but you’re the wrong way around, and covering up isn’t easy.

“Seungmin?”

His eyes open slowly, and then immediately shut again.

“Turn over, so I can look at your back.” He listens, but this time, he winces in pain when the skin moves and stretches. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Before you get up, you have to give your legs a stretch, and before you can walk, you stand for a moment and adjust. As soon as your shirt is back over your head, you carefully head to the bathroom, trying not to trip in the dark. The hand towels are in the very last drawer you check, but the water comes out ice cold, just like you need it.

You lost yourself with him. Pushing him on his back was stupid, and a few of the scratches broke open even more.

“How does it feel?” You ask, and very slowly drape the cold towel across his shoulders. He winches again, but it’s quickly followed by a sigh of relief. “It hurts now that the moment is over, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as it looks. I promise.”

Even if you do believe him, you can still see the pink of his blood coming through the opposite side of the thin towel. It spreads out and connects and starts to look like angel wings…butterfly wings. You think of the old note in his music box.

“Are there lots of butterflies in the greenhouse in spring?”

“Hm?” Seungmin lifts his head and tries to look at you, but you’re too far back. “Butterflies?”

“Yeah,” maybe you shouldn’t be mentioning the greenhouse right now, or bringing the trip back to his mind, but…he was happy for it. “The heliotrope and the asters, butterflies love them.”

“Yeah, you’re right…that’s why—“ he stops himself and lays his head back down on the bed, “that’s why they’re in there. Why do you ask?”

“Uhm, no reason…it just came to mind”

“We’ll see in a few months, I guess”

In a few months. In the future. That’s a nice thought. Will you both still be here? You look down at him and wonder as you gently lift the towel to inspect. “Do you have any antibiotic ointment?”

“You don’t have to do all that”

“Bathroom?”

Seungmin nods.

/ / /

He stares at you from his spot on the bed, right side up this time. Seungmin is on his stomach still, with one pillow fluffed up under his head and chest. You can’t tell for sure, but he might be a little annoyed at you for covering him in cream and making him stay still.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks in a small voice. “Are you tired?”

“No, I’m not anymore…but you look tired”

“I’m always tired,” he turns away and pushes his face into the pillow, “or I always look tired.”

“No, you don’t. Just very pensive, and sad, and handsome.”

“Handsome? You said I was cute.” His face is still mostly hidden, but you can see one eye peeking at you.

“Yeah, you’re cute when you think really hard, or when you’re worried”

“So, all the time?”

“All the time”

The quiet that falls over the room is nice—it’s not awkward, or filled with questions. There’s no tension. Seungmin just lies there, eyes closed, comfortable and content, and he doesn’t move when you lay down next to him. You could fall asleep if you allowed yourself, but you could also lay here and look at him for a little while longer. All night. You pull the blankets higher, grab a second pillow, and something familiar catches your eye. The little yellow puppy rolls and falls between the bed frame and the wall, but you catch him just before he disappears. “Do you walk around on your own?” His big black eyes stare silently, and they remind you of someone.

“Do I look sad all the time?”

There they are…they open so wide, and he seems to focus on a spot somewhere behind you—somewhere in the dark where the light doesn’t reach.

“No, you don’t look sad right now”

Seungmin reaches out and takes his friend by the paw, squeezes it. Now he looks sad, as if something suddenly started weighing on his mind. You glance to the table where his pills sit, and wonder, stupidly, if you should ask about them—ask very gently if he’s given them a chance. Not tonight, though. “Does he have a name?”

“Hm? Oh…him, yeah he does. His name is Daengmo.” Seungmin smiles as he says it, but it matches the rest of him; sad. “Daengmo,” he whispers.

“Does it mean anything?”

“Yes, daengdaengie is for puppy, mo is…uhm,” he stops and thinks. Or hesitates. “Mo, for a nickname I had when I was little.”

“Mo? Your nickname was Mo?”

“Mo, or Seungmo. My mom called me that when I didn’t listen…when I misbehaved.”

“Maybe I should be calling you Mo”

The sad look fades a little, “because I’m bad?” Seungmin lifts himself up on his elbows and turns on his side.

“You are, objectively, sometimes. But…” Seungmin does bad things, and you’ve witnessed some of it. He’s lied, and he’s manipulated. He might still be lying, for all you know. But he’s also told you truths. You’re choosing to trust him right now, just like you’ve been since he brought you home, because he has shown you a surprising amount of kindness even though it was clearly difficult for him. “No, I don’t think you’re bad," ...because you think you might be in love with him.

“I’m glad you think that. I am, though. I’m a nightmare."

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