#if its not paragraph one its forever away

[pipliekit]

Shout out to that fanfic I read once that was tagged 'eventual smut' and by 'eventual' the author meant second chapter.

Technically correct but man that was not what I expected.

[riiviir]

hey guys so I just started reading Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott and OMG AHSBNSBSBSNSNBSHZHSHDBFHGGHFHGRJ2KSHSBSNSK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THE RELATIVITY BETWEEN DIMENSIONS!!!!!!

[3cremepie3]

Airhead pt. 1

Synopsis - Riddle Rosehearts x fem reader. Y/n is an idiot and needs help with studying from Riddle! She wants to pay back his kindness in the only way she know how.

Warnings - innocent riddle, lose of innocence, graphic mentions of head lol, premarital sex, cursing, spit, roughness, slutty y/n, bimbo y/n

A/n - I was supposed to start this series so long ago but I got caught up in request. I found this so fun to write and I will be continuing it!

“Hey riddle,” you exclaimed. You pulled him in for a big hug he deserved it for being so generous. He was helping you study for free! “There’s no need for that.” His words were harsh but his smile said otherwise. Whatever you let him go and plopped down on his bed.

“Wow, it’s so soft I can lay here forever.” You will not now up at once,” he demanded. “In order to get optimal study results students sit at desks. I have a perfectly organized one here.” You sighed getting up to sit at his desk. The chair was cool against your ass cheeks that hung out your dress.

It was uncomfortable and for some reason forced you to sit up. “Now let us begin I have tea time to attend to and I’ll leave you for independent study time then.” Okay,” you accepted. The session didn’t even start yet and you were bored. "Yawning already? Did you not get a good night's rest?"

"No, I stayed up all night waiting on a flash sale." Well, that was idiotic,' He claimed. "When your dorm has no AC you make do with what you can get, look isn't it cute."

"My god," Riddle gasped. "Isn't that lingerie women wear that for their husbands and as far as I know you aren't married." You erupted into a fit of giggles. God, he was over dramatic! “Riddle you're too innocent for your own good," you laughed. "I'm just wearing it to bed what's the harm in that?"

"You're right." He cleared his throat and stepped away to grab a hefty text book. "Hand me your phone there must be no distractions." You were hesitant but handed it over. Riddle grabbed a chair and scooted over towards you. Your body moved closer to his wanting to marinate in his scent. "Wow, you smell so nice Riddle like roses."

"Well thank you I make sure to use rosemary oil and- what are you doing get back to reading at once!" He pointed to the paragraph your eyes finished scanning. "I already finished," you pouted. "Fine then let's get started on this written response."

"The teacher wants you to write this in a formal format so no personal perspective." He continued to yap on and on about something that you couldn't bother to hear as you were distracted by the flamingos running across the yard. "Get him." You cheered leaning out the window to watch the mayhem between students and flamingos concur.

In an instant, you flashed him the short dress that you wore hiked up your back. “You mustn’t lean over like everything is showing,” Riddle yelled. He covered his eyes wanting to keep your privacy. “Ace he went that way,” you pointed. You felt the air on your ass and quickly realized what Riddle had been yelling about.

“Oops my ass was out,” you giggled. “It’s not funny Y/n!” Come on Riddle you act like you’ve never seen anyone’s panties before.” He stared at you blankly. “Wait you genuinely haven’t?” His face became rosy red at your question. “Well, not in real life of course.”

“Christ how is anyone this pure,” you wondered. “My mother kept me very sheltered from a lot of things.” So you’ve never watched porn?” He held his head low not meeting your bright eyes. “ How is that your first thought no I have not.” We’ll have you ever had a girlfriend or a side hoe or a hookup?”

“No I don’t have time for any of that,” he admitted. “I guess remaining top student comes with its downfalls.” You frowned for Riddle. You couldn’t imagine not getting laid. Just then you thought of something. “Well, Riddle since you gave me your time helping me study I’ll give you mine in bed?” You watched him awaiting his answer. “But mother says only married couples do that.”

You slapped your forehead out of frustration. “Mother means married couples stick it in. No one said we have to do all of that.” I suppose there’s no harm since it’ll be a fair exchange and as long as it’s done before tea time.”

“Yup just the perfect pace,” you gleamed. Now why don’t we get on the bed,” you suggested. “Alright.” Oh wow Riddle I’m surprised you’re agreeing to this.” Well, you only live once they say.” He propped himself up on his elbows wanting to face you.

“This process is for relaxation you can lay fully down.” He laid back sinking into his many pillows. “Good boy now take off your clothes.” You heard his breath hitch at the thought but his hands were eager to make them come undone. He stopped at his underwear, however. “Need help or something.” Your hand graced over his bulge and then to the band of his boxers.

“I think that would be best,” he admitted. You couldn’t help but notice his hands shaking. “Aww Riddle don’t be nervous. You sat up to give him some kisses on his burning torso. “It’s just a little dick-sucking,” you reminded. “I know but I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well, then I’ll take things slower if you need it.” You began to kiss him softly he was a beginner after all. The first few were awkward teeth colliding but cute as you shared drool. The next ones were better since you took control catching his tongue in yours. You broke apart letting him catch his breath.

His hands tangled themselves in your hair pulling you back in. You balanced yourself on the bed before pulling your hips over his. Now you straddled his lap and could feel his heat against you. Riddle pulled up your dress which caused a gasp to come from your lips.

“Are you eager now?” Yes.” You looked up to see a riddles face flushed in a shade of scarlet. “Fine then I’m gonna go back down here. You crawled back to his legs making sure to land in an arch. Riddle thought he would lose his mind seeing the peak of your ass on full display. You pulled down his boxers to clearly see his mental state.

“Aww look at you dripping,” you coddled. "You can touch it i see you staring." Oh okay," he hesitated. You felt a hand collide with your ass cheek. He rubbed the flesh gently afterwards although it was an apology. You were gonna let out a protest but his focused face was too cute to pass up. You let a glob of spit coat his tip. You scanned his reaction as it slid down to his base.

His breath hitched at the warmness. Soon your mouth would follow the direction of the spit swallowing him down until you gagged. You exited with a pop making his toes curl. "So how's your first time getting head feel?" Good now continue," he demanded. His hand pushed you down onto his waiting dick.

You felt it twitch in your mouth as your tongue followed every curve every vein its entire being. "Oh my god," Riddle huffed. "Your cocks so cute look at it shake for me." You let it rest and spasm on your cheek. Your face had become wet with spit and his pre but you didn't mind. "Taste so good baby," you mumbled. Riddle could only bite his thumb down in response to holding his moans.

Your hand left his thigh to assist you in pumping him. Your grip was strong bringing his balls to tingle. Your lips noticed as you licked against the masses. And it intensified as you juggled them both in your mouth. He looked down on you astonished at your sinful actions.

Your dress was soaked but you were only just getting started. "Change of plans I want you to throat fuck me." Riddle looked at you like a lost puppy. "What does that mean." After quickly giving him a rundown he got into position. "So like this." He asked while pushing himself into your pulsing throat. Your hand linked themselves on his hips bringing him to push himself even deeper.

Riddle let out a grunt at the sensation of you squeezing around him. "Fuck it's like you're sucking me in." You chuckled you'd never think you'd get to hear Riddle RoseHearts curse. His hips buckled back and forth drilling themselves into you. But you still felt as though he was going to be soft on you.

"Riddle here's your chance to ruin me, to take all anger and stress out on me, to manhandle me. You're a man right then prove it to me." You spoke while scattering cock kisses. Riddle scoffed he was tired of everyone second-guessing him because he was small. "While since you give me permission I shall do my best job at it."

His smile twisted into a cruel smirk. You could tell in his head he had felt as though he was back in charge of the monarchy. While really you were still the dominant you just loved getting throat fucked. His hands raced to grab your neck forcing you to collide with the end of his shaft. You felt his hair tickle your nose while you gagged heavenly.

Riddle couldn't get enough of the vibrations against his core and forced you to stay until he watched your eyes roll back. You coughed greatly after being freed but stars were in your excited eyes as the same fate occurred. You watched Riddle lose himself in the contractions of your throat.

He moaned loudly as he pumped you like a fleshlight. They became whimper and he let out mewls that sounded as though he was crying. It was music to your ears especially when his voice that was sure to go raw yelled "Y/n" a dozen times. If he kept this up your throat would organize his shape forever.

And you wouldn't mind as long as you heard his whimper audio. "So good I think I'm gonna." He tried to give you a warning but it was too late. His cum poured down your throat leaving you to swallow the best you could in the short amount of time you had. The excess liquid spilled down your face and his now empty balls. He finally let go of his grip which allowed you to move away from the monster that was his cock.

You had 100% slayed that beast as he softened in front of your eyes. You pulled the bottom of your dress down ignoring the wet patch your essence had left on his bed. "Now we both held our fair end of the exchange." You spoke your voice raspy while removing your dress and stealing one of Riddle's shirts.

"Yes if you ever need help again be sure to let me know," he exclaimed. "Mhmm I'd love to push things even further. What your mother knows doesn't hurt her Riddle. It's not sin if its secret!”

[raayllum]

Dark Magic, a Brief Dissection

There are four scenes in the series I think best embody the pitfalls of dark magic from an ideological standpoint, even if you don't touch on the fact it's just a malevolent magic system + the harm it does to the user. Two are in season two, and two are in season six.

The first is the infamous reservation from Sarai in 2x05 that dark magic is too ideologically easy, because it is always easier to dehumanize and to strip away the fact that someone or something might be a person than it is to recognize it. The "you keep calling it a monster" and "there's no shortcut" are things that other episodes echo as well (6x05, 1x02), highlighting key take aways. The biggest one, though, is the idea that

We see this directly happen with Viren even before the events of 2x05, as we see him go from necessary horror to necessary horror in order to save Soren. He coins Kpp'Ar to get the staff, yes, but also to preserve his status; doing so alters his appearance both literally and emotionally in the eyes of his wife; when she's frightened and denies him her tears, he takes them by force; and then when she leaves, he blames the son he saved. He thought dark magic would give more than it would take, and when confronted with the opposite that Harrow had also learned ("We may not pay now but we will pay the bloodprice eventually"), he couldn't handle its lesson of accountability, because it's usually easier to blame others rather than yourself.

Viren fell down that slope in quick succession, climbed the mountainous Storm Spire twice, and it took falling off that mountain for him to get his head back on straight, to realize that rather than having no choice, he was continually making bad, harmful choices. This likewise ties back into 1) using his wife as spell parts leading to the dissolution of their marriage, because being treated as a thing is not something you can come back from and 2) rejecting using Soren as spell parts, and instead using himself in S6. And also ties into what S6 makes plain for Claudia in terms of the mindset that dark magic encourages:

I don't know if there's much to say about this aspect that the screencap (and earlier paragraphs) don't already say on its own tbh. Dark magic "shattered" her family forever (6x06) and Claudia refuses to "let anything break" them apart further (3x09). She treats dark magic as a glue to hold things or people together, but in doing so treats everything around her as parts, including herself (her blood, hair, leg, and even her body taking on more animalistic forms through spell consumption). And that leads you to breaking things, including yourself, your relationships, even without necessarily realizing it. (Doesn't mean that it can't be put back together in some true form, though.)

But if dark magic is so bad, then why do it? I think Callum's arc answers this perfectly in terms of what it offers and why people (at their best and operating best they can under terrible circumstances) take it:

Dark magic offers unlimited power with the promise of control and desire, but this agency is an illusion. It took time for Callum to learn the truth and other characters (Viren, Claudia) didn't/don't know how tangibly true it is, but dark magic robs you of your agency by making you vulnerable to Aaravos. The Startouch elf didn't have to possess Claudia to make her do what he wanted, and doing so might've thrown a wrench in needing her to perform the quasar diamond spell with love if she wasn't on board with him as is. Viren, despite having no knowledge that Aaravos can possess him, is terrified of being used again (6x05) and mandates that saying no to Aaravos and dark magic is "the path of freedom" (as opposed to fate).

Callum of course gets this promise of power ripped out entirely from under him even after he rejects it (2x08) as he learns the full extent it lets Aaravos control him (4x04), and continues to engage with dark magic under duress even past that point (5x08). It's one of the ways arc 2 and him as a character recognizes false binaries and reconciles dualities: the choice isn't between "powerless human" or "powerful dark mage," but that you can become a powerless human by being a dark mage.

At the same time, 6x08 finally makes it truly, clearly explicit that dark magic can be used morally under extreme circumstances and through self-sacrificial methods (particularly for a character with a very complicated relationship towards sacrifice). This is doubly so considering that it required using the Staff of Ziard, which others have thought was extremely dangerous (Ibis, Kpp'Ar) and worth sacrificing for (Ibis killing Claudia, Kpp'Ar being willing to let Soren die), and it was still seen as the right thing to do, not only for Viren. Whether we'll see another instance of dark magic use in this way is unknown, but I could see perhaps Callum being allowed to have it in his back pocket (light and dark inside him and all that, and idk if they'd clean slate him again) as continued proof. If anyone can navigate the pitfalls appropriately (and same with primal magic), I think he's in the best position to do so.

[barrenclan]

I for one think it would be very funny if Deepdark does die, not for satisfaction of his demise but the events that happen afterwards, the idea that Defiance can't live without him really goes to show they're just as insignificant as the clans and will be forgotten with time and I find that enjoyable :)

I mean... I have literally written an entire essay about the fallibility of systems that believe themselves to be eternal and how nothing is endless (it was about 1984). Here's the final paragraph of it, so... let that influence your speculation on how I write stories as you will.

"That really is it, in the end. No matter how hard the Party tries to mold its citizens into the shape of machines, they will never achieve it. They can destroy love, happiness, freedom, language, thought, any shred of safety that humans strive for, but they can never stop the striving. The Party is an untouchable, eternal empire, until its own gears rust from sheer mistake or misuse. The war is endless, until one careless slip of a button throws it into frantic destruction. The Party controls life in all its functions and at all its levels, until centuries from now when nature has ground our sorry human schemes into the earth. Until the day that we tear out our own organs and replace the whole of our bodies with plastic and metal, humanity is inescapable. No member of the Party or its compatriot superstates, no one in the Thought Police or Inner Party or the highest of its thinkers is going to stop being an instinctive, fragile animal, blindly grasping for eternity before the winds of time tear it away. The image O’Brien gives Winston, as well as the readers, of this dark world is 'a boot stomping on a human face - forever'. What he is failing to mention, failing to consider at all, is that eventually, though it may take decades or even centuries, the boot will fall to dust the same as everything else."

Here's a fun fact I can share now: in one of the early drafts of the comic, the reason Deepdark showed up late was literally just because he wanted to make a dramatic entrance.

[i2ycat]

way too late

pairing jake x gn!reader synopsis in which you come to the realisation that you’ve been loving jake all this time way too late genre angst, fluff, friends to ??, hurt w comfort word count 0.7k warnings little mention of blood, kissing with a bloody lip main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

Jake’s hand softly caresses your face, tears brimming his eyes as he holds his suitcase in the other with a vice grip. It was evident that he didn’t want to leave either, not with how your relationship was starting to blossom so beautifully in the spring.

“Can’t you just stay?” you plead, finally mustering up the courage to reciprocate the intensity of his stare. You could see his face soften even further, brows furrowing and gaze dropping to his feet in an attempt to choke down the impulse to drop everything and run back to your open arms, to where everything would’ve been in its place and nothing else would matter. It would just be you two against the world.

Your heart clenches almost painfully in its place. “Can’t we just go back to where we were?” you continue, even though you know that it is damn near impossible. This was the last page of your shared chapter, ink no longer tracing the lines of his name or the crinkles of his eye smiles; the last paragraph of his current existence—the boy you met in your first year of college, the boy that loved you more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, throat constricting as he continues to stare at the ground.

You bite into your lip harsh enough to draw blood because you were frustrated at the world, at the entire damn universe for presenting you with the one boy who understood everything about you without much toiling and then taking him away the moment you realized just how much you’ve loved him and wanted him in your life.

He didn’t even need to try hard to make you forget all about your problems; just his existence was comfort enough. He was your only safe place as you navigated yourself in this confusing world.

The absurdity of it all made you want to laugh, even through the tears.

“I hate you,” you say.

Jake looks up and searches your eyes for any confirmation, which he obviously doesn’t get because you love him and he knows that you love him more than just any friend would.

He releases his grip on the handle of his suitcase and brings you into a hug. His perfume and warmth engulfed you almost entirely, which made you damn near sob like a baby in the middle of the airport.

Your chokes drowned and died down in Jake’s hoodie as you proceeded to tell him that you hated him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, bringing your face from his shoulder towards his own. “I know you don’t.”

It felt like the world had stopped then and there, much like the first time you met him. You didn’t want to admit it at the time, but you fell in love at first sight with Jake, in his baggy jeans and hoodie, adorning an expression akin to that of a lost puppy. You were the ultimate fool for only realizing that now.

His dewy brown eyes drew you physically closer, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. You could taste the irony of your own blood against Jake’s own lips, but you were not in the right headspace to be caring enough about proper hygiene.

This was your personal euphoria, but in a few hours time, it was just going to be the last line you wrote as you reminisced, so you hurried to savor his cherry-flavored chapstick and commit it to your memory forever.

Everyone else in this space and time was just a part of the flurry of emotions that you felt as you kissed Jake. This was the first time, but you’ve already acknowledged it as the last, even if you didn’t want it to be.

Even through the dull ache in your lungs, you kissed Jake, and only until you'd used up the last of your oxygen did you stop for air.

The two of you panted and huffed, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around your waist.

The cold air of the airport brings you back to the reality that Jake will no longer be in your arms like he is right now, so you take the opportunity to finally say what has been on your mind the very moment you met him: “I love you, and I hate that I do.”

“Even when you’re admitting that you love me, you still won’t hold back on the ‘I hate you’ stuff.” his lips crack into a smile. “Well then, I love that I love you, Y/n, more than anything in this entire world.”

© i2ycat 2024

[yuyan]

To my darling

A/n: Merry Christmas and have a happy new year! I hope you enjoy it @pavo-ocell-me! This was a very fun event that I loved taking part in @2023gisecretsanta

Pairing: Lyney x gn!reader

Tags: Pure fluff! Modern au, implied school/college setting, penpals, pre-established relationship, reader is learning French, where reader lives doesn't have snow, one curse word just one ^^

"Take intermediate French they said. You'll be fine they said," you muttered to no one in particular as you read the Google translation over and over again. "My French teacher is going to kill me."

You rubbed your eyes, peeking out of makeshift pillow your arms made. Standing tall at the front of the class with a booming voice was your French teacher. She held a small, clear glass jar with folded bits of paper inside in one hand while placing a stack of letters on her lectern with her other.

"Speaking with natives is an excellent and necessary way to develop your language skills (unlike this soon to be 30 minute speech) so due to the cancellation of the exchange program for this year and the long dragged on meeting, we have decided to give you all pen pals!" she announced. Her arms held a wide stance, awaiting for something you were unaware of.

Some whispers and small squeals echoed through the lecture hall. Others groaned and put their head on the desk, waiting for celestia, perhaps even an archon to take them. You did neither.

"I wish I could turn back time," you sighed. After contemplating for an hour whether your teacher would ever find out that you used Google translate to write half your letter or not, you started handwriting it on a stack of fancy paper you really shouldn't have been able to afford. "Shell never know. It's not like he can tell her anyways."

As you dragged your pen along the piece of paper, you remembered the speech about how necessary this was, the small piece of paper you pulled out of the bag and the letter that came with it. With a small smile playing on your lips, you signed off and stuck the small paper that read "lyney" just below your name with a paper rainbow rose you made yourself. It had its imperfections but it's similarity to the fresh ones he sent you left you content.

"Oh my god why did he reply so fast?" you asked yourself. Not even 3 days later and you received another letter from lyney. You traced the grooves of the red wax seal made you shiver. He wouldn't ever know you used google translate right? With pursed lips, you opened it. Perfume immediately muddled your senses as you opened up the envelope. Your peers hadn't even sent their first letter, let alone receive their second.

As you skimmed over the letter, you took down some notes like where he's from–which was so uncessary–what he likes to do and some of his contact details. You hummed, giving yourself imaginary pats on the back for reading a whole three sentences before typing the other two paragraphs into Google translate. You really needed to switch classes, desperately.

It was only then you spotted that a sentence in french came out the same in the translation. "You really shouldn't be using Google translate for these letters," written at the very bottom. Well fuck.

"You are friends with your penpal? Well that's lovely (name)," your French teacher clapped with bright sparkles in her eyes. It blinded you for a second and you had to look away before you lost the ability to see forever.

Instagram

(potato_name):lyney sent a reel.

(potato_name):lyney sent a picture.

(potato_name):lyney sent you a mes...

I didn't use Google translate for this one. Are you proud of me? You wrote at the bottom before slipping the letter into its envelope and sealing it with the new wax stamp set you bought recently.

You rushed back home. You winced at the clatter of your laptop in your bag hitting the floor, deciding it was a problem for future you. Ripping open the envelope and skimming through the letter, you read at the very bottom 'I am proud of anything you do, mon Cheri."

A smile broke out onto your lips as you neatly kept it away in a small box your mother got you from Fontaine when you were little. The small box was made of white marble with gold outlining its edges and gathering in a few swirls in the middle where the golden clasp rested.

The Sun shone brightly despite it being the middle of December. Rays of Sunlight squeezed through your closed curtains and you wondered if it was snowing in Fontaine right now. Did Lyney like playing in the snow?

Letters became less and less frequent as your peers lost motivation in writing long drawn out of paragraphs with nothing but small talk. A year and a half had passed yet your teacher held a strong morale despite the head of languages not enforcing this penpals program anymore. Even they must have gotten tired of the back and forth.

A few days until Christmas holidays. Opening your phone, you checked to see if lyney had texted you anything. Nothing...

Your eyes kept glossing over your texts from Friday 11am. Its been a week. Pictures of him and his two siblings who added you back on Instagram. Even Lynette had texted you today, showing some new tea she bought from inazuma last week.

Lynette

My brother has been writing non-stop for the past few days. Are you guys still doing the penpals thing?

You

No, maybe he is writing to someone else?

Your stomach dropped as you reread your message. "Writing to someone else...I need fresh air." You took your phone and wallet and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?" your roomate called out but you were already heading to the lift. You ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face with a sigh. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter but this is the fifth time you've checked your phone this morning and its been a week with only a read tag.

"I seriously need to ban myself from my phone."

Lynette

Oh...nevermind. I'll ask him then.

Sent Friday 10 : 39am

"The christmas carnival was so much funner this year," your friend said, laughing. Then one hiccup escaped from her mouth. And then another one. Until you and your other friend bursted out laughing. "Not funny!"

"Yeah yeah. I still can't believe (Name) won that plushie from that shooting stall," your other friend said. He tossed another chip in his mouth, after finally calming down from his laughter.

"I'm surprised too. Those games are typically so rigged, I mean did you see the look on the owner's face though?" you said.

Holding up the little classic brown teddy bear, you admired it at all angles. Its red bow had a little bell hanging from the centre, jingling as you walked.

Its silly smile matched yours and then you noticed it. The small teddy's bowtie resembled the one Lyney wore in one of the pictures he sent. And the small envelope the size of your palm that the teddy held was a real one made of paper.

"(Name)? Whats wrong?"

"Nothing! I just realised my parents wanted me back at 10 and well its 11 so I have to go," you said with a bright smile, "Bye!"

"You live in a dorm though?" your friend countered, "(Name)!" But you were already walking out of the festival gates.

Picking out the small envelope, you brushed your thumb over the grooves of the wax seal. The same wax seal that you used for the last letter you sent. Did he really get the same stamp?

A mini rainbow rose fell out. The vibrant colours provided a stark contrast to the humid summer night. One letter. Five words. I love you, Mon cheri.

Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the letter, fumbling with it for a bit. Taking in the cool nighttime breeze, you looked up only to see the person you hadn't talk to in a week standing only a few metres away from you.

Lyney held a bouquet of vibrant rainbow roses in one hand and the other behind his back.

"How are you..?" You took as step back, your gaze falling to the floor then back up at him again.

"I told you I'm a magician in one of my letters didn't I?" Lyney started, "I would appear anywhere if it was to be with you."

[kivino]

TAKE US BACK || ZOMBIE AU || KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK X GN!READER

Word Counter – 6.4k words

Summary – The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it. 

Tags/Warnings – Zombie AU (heavily twd coded, don’t expect some l4d type of stuff /lh. Death and turning after the bite ARE slower, however. For the sake of drama. obviously), gore, blood, gn!Reader, established relationship, heavy angst, major character death. 

A/n – So, this fic is my contribution to the spooky season! Special thanks to @mockerycrow for helping me with the pictures for the header, you're the best, pookie!!! I have a playlist for this fic too, so in case you want to read this with complete immersion I’ll link it here. Enjoy <333

also available on my ao3

upd. if you saw that unfinished paragraph you didn’t see anything, move along 👁️👁️

“Kyle, I think…I think I’m bitten.” was all it took to shatter him into millions of tiny pieces. Just like that. Nothing mattered anymore, even that you promised each other to stay alive, no matter what. In the back of his mind, he knew all those promises muttered into his lips while he feverishly kissed you were empty, shallow attempts to silence his mind, to make him sleep in peace, thinking you’ll be there no matter what. And of course, he didn’t doubt your words even for a split second.

Kyle knew he was a fool to believe that. To think the two of you were inseparable. In a world like this, how could one even think of something staying forever untouched by decay that spread far beyond the horizon? Rot overtook everything, and if something was still untouched by it, soon enough that wither would find a way to slither inside, spoiling it forever. It would even find its way into people’s minds, ruining humanity in a manner no physical disease could ever hope to damage them. Kyle and you have seen it happen far too many times, and his only wish was for you to meet your end together, peacefully. But now…he only wished he had the strength to go on, he truly did. 

Because you needed him. Now more than ever. 

And so, he kept trying. If he didn’t then both of you would be done for. You didn’t deserve that, not when all he wanted was for you to be safe and well, not caring much about himself. You were the one who saved him when all the shit went down, now it was time to return the favor. So, he pushed himself through every agonizingly slow day. But he was starting to feel the already feeble remains of his strength slipping away from him. He wouldn’t give up, however. Never. Not when your life depended on it. 

That’s why while you were bedridden, weakness setting in your body as a permanent, bitter resident, Kyle was scouring the old town for fever and cold medicine, trying to be as quiet as possible, not to attract any undead. He had a gun, but he did not use it – too loud and bullets were a luxury, not a commodity. Kyle only had one bullet, following the advice of a nice older man with mutton chops he remembered meeting in one of the survivor camps a long time ago.

“Always save the last bullet for yourself or your loved ones. You never know who’ll need it more”

Methods aside, recent days were spent wandering abandoned houses in attempts to find at least some food for the two of you. Only when the darkness started to settle, Kyle would head back, throwing his backpack over the fence and barely managing to climb it, sore muscles and empty stomach sending jolts of pain all through his body. Even then, he was restless, sitting by your side, wiping your forehead of sweat, and taking your temperature. Your breathing was strained, chest rising and falling under thin blankets that barely kept you warm. And each time he looked at you for more than a minute at a time he felt his insides twisting in pain, eyes getting white-hot with tears, and throat closing, barely letting him take a short breath just so he doesn’t suffocate in his misery.

And then the sun rises, warm rays painting the room in a variety of colors, falling over your face, morning birds wake up Kyle from his nightmare-filled sleep. He jolts awake from the dreams, filled with the image of you, dying in agony over and over, crying out for help, begging him to do something. You get torn apart, your intestines spilling out on the damp floor, pulled out by a crowd of the undead who devour you with vigorous hunger, biting into your flesh until he can’t recognize your face from the bloody and mangled pulp that rotting hands and jagged teeth turn you into. Your raw, pained screams haunt him even when he’s awake, observing you lose your life all over again. Much slower and in a much more painful way. 

The sun rises. And so does Kyle. Your desperate pleas that drag from the dream are muffled as soon as he sees you sleeping. Forgetting, that you were getting weaker with each day that passed. Choosing to bask in your tranquil glow, in the way your eyelashes fluttered while you slept, choosing to neglect the worry clawing on the back of his mind just to stay like this with you for a little longer. Kyle knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable, but he still decided to make the best out of the short amount of time he had left with you. Hoping that some miracle would happen and you wouldn’t succumb to the decay. That the bite would turn out to be a bad dream you both had on the same night, waking up from it in cold sweat, searching for the comfort of each other’s embrace, while letting out relieved sighs, realizing that you’re safe. 

That would be great, wouldn’t it?

Instead, he shakes you awake with a gentle hand, almost not wanting to wake you up from your slumber. You blink up at him, looking even more tired than before you went to sleep. Circles under your eyes are even darker than the previous night. And Kyle is in pain once again. He wants to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder, to lead you through the long, silent halls of the school where you were staying, full of dust and damp, moldy smell, to have breakfast together. Like good old times. But he sees that in your eyes, you’re too weak to pull your weight up and stand up. So, he brings the heated-up cans of beans here, putting one on a stool in front of you, helping you to sit up before he even thinks of touching his food.

“Kyle, that’s twice what I usually eat.” You mutter, watery eyes rising to him, sitting on the mattress in front of you with his legs crossed. He raises his eyebrow and his head shifts to the side in a questioning motion.

“Well, you have to eat plenty to recover.” He said, matter-of-factly. You stay silent, unwilling to have that debate right now. You barely managed to stay awake as it is. Let him think that you’ll get better, despite everything you saw together. Despite every rule that you’ve discovered. Let him live in the illusion, in the waking dream that all will be well if he tries hard enough. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s growing cold” 

You didn’t realize that you’d been drilling the can of steaming beans in front of you with your glassy gaze for the past several minutes, submerged in your thoughts deep enough to suffocate. You pick up the spoon with a weak, shaky motion. Then your eyes fall on the can. Somehow, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Failing at something so simple…you knew it’d hurt your pride even more. So, you opted to push the tin closer to the edge of the stool.

Kyle glanced over at you, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. He sensed the fatigue from you, lacing the air that surrounded you and leaving dark, oily traces over anything your fingers lingered on. You breathed sickness. Your hands, which were able to easily bash an undead’s head on the wall just several days ago, now could barely hold a spoon steady without it trembling and threatening to fall, spilling all the contents over the moth-eaten blanket. He felt his heart squeeze in pain, and he swore that something shattered inside of him once again. 

“Let me help you.” Although it sounded like an offer, Kyle didn’t look like he was going to let you debate it, shuffling closer to you, taking the spoon from your hand in a swift motion. You purse your lips, knowing that protesting that would be stupid. If it wasn’t for how weak and sick you were, and for a lot of other circumstances, it would be a cutesy moment. Your dear spoon-feeding you something? Please, one’s teeth would rot from how sweet it is. But now it was just another deep, bleeding gash on your pride. Kyle blows on the food, cooling it off and promptly moving it towards your mouth with his hand cupped just under the spoon. You obediently clamp your lips around the spoon. “There we go.” He gives you a small smile, but you see the melancholy in his eyes when Kyle wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He means well, yet you can’t help but feel like you’re a burden to him. 

You loathed being like this. Being this weak. Fragile. You were able to fend for yourself, you had resilience and strength, but now you were just rendered useless, only dragging Kyle down, depriving him of the freedom to go on.

He’ll die if he continues like this.

You knew it. He was exhausted, and you’ve been like this for a little over a week. Survival wasn’t about skill anymore, it was about luck. You lost yours already, the moment rotten, jagged teeth sunk into the flesh of your forearm like it was butter, drawing the first blood. But Kyle, he…sooner or later he will lose his luck too. And it was apparent that it was coming sooner than you anticipated. A bullet he won’t be able to dodge. An infected scratch. An undead that he simply didn’t notice because of how tired he is. A bear trap in the vicinity of someone’s camp. Something will get to Kyle. Or someone. And thankfully, you won’t be here to witness it. Hopefully.

 “What are you doing? Where are we going?” You barely managed to mutter out, clinging to him with all the strength you had, which, to be fair, wasn’t a lot. He could feel the cold of your hands clasped around his neck even through several layers of his clothes. Kyle’s hands carefully held you under your thighs as he went up the stairs, not showing any signs of exertion except for beads of sweat on his temples. 

“Just thought we might watch the sunrise together, like good old days” You could hear the soft smile that tugged on his mouth when he said that. Another reminder for you that he probably loathed the way you lived right now and would prefer to go back to the way things were. With you not being his…burden.

You didn’t need to be reminded of this. Of the “good old days”. Finding that abandoned farm, deep in the buttcrack of the countryside was what saved the both of you when the world started going to shit. You and Kyle met each other years prior, but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when everything as you knew it was gone.

Hiding there gave you a sense of normalcy you missed so much, after having to live for months, years like an animal. You didn’t feel like the world as you knew it was falling apart beyond that fence with cracked white paint. Deserted fields full of dead crops, empty house with a bunch of stuff forgotten or thrown around messily - it was obvious the owners wouldn’t come back any time soon. Snooping around gave you too much information - you couldn’t help but feel a bitter burn on the back of your throat when you picked up a framed family photo from the fireplace, five tan faces staring back at you with perpetual smiles etched into the glossy paper. 

You didn’t have the gall to throw away or burn everything personal the previous family left behind. Photo albums, children's clothes and toys, diplomas, drawings, letters, posters, and even something as small as shopping lists on the fridge, five life stories were packed into several boxes, taped and put in the attic. Kyle didn’t understand your wish to preserve something that wasn’t even yours, but he didn’t interfere, choosing to give you a hand instead. If it helped you to sleep in someone else’s bed calmer, replacing the presumably dead strangers, he was willing to indulge you.

Despite how far away from the civilization this farm was, seeing an undead roaming around wasn’t a very rare occurrence, but at least you could handle the occasional walking corpses. You wake up, you go on patrol. You finish patrol, and you meet the sunrise with Kyle by your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, with a blanket thrown over the both of you, sitting on the front porch, right on the creaking stairs. These fleeting moments felt so right. Like home.

Eventually, you had to continue moving. Started to run short on supplies ever since then. Running into all sorts of different people, relying on strangers, leading a nomad way of life. It wasn’t unfulfilling, since you only needed the company of each other to keep it together. In a variety of groups that you’ve been through it was always a known fact that you’ll stick by each other before someone else.

All he needed was your loving hug when you came back from a supply run. A soft kiss that you would put on that scar right on his cheek. Or to hold your hand under the table when you sat down to eat with whatever group you were with this week, like your love for each other was a secret meant only for the two of you. All you needed was his warmth, his comfort, his mere presence, that would light up your shitty day like a damn light beam. He managed to take your breath away each time he looked at you with such gentleness and softness that sometimes you didn’t think you deserved it. You’ve found the world in each other. A purpose.

So what is Kyle going to do when you’re gone?

The morbid thought suddenly crosses your mind, while the man carefully sits you down on a worn lawn chair with a soft grunt, plopping down on the ground by your side, warm palm reassuringly resting on your thigh. Bringing you down to earth. Gusts of frosty wind brush through your hair, nipping at your cheeks, nose, and ears. You missed the outside, despite it being quite cold and unwelcoming this time of the year.

“I think the herd's close. See that dust?” Kyle taps you lightly on your leg and points towards the horizon. And true to his words, there is a fine dark line separating the sky, burning up in a mix of reds and yellows, from the earth. “They’re moving weird.”

“What does that mean?” you croak at Kyle, not able to peel your eyes from that sheet of gray, bunched-up dust that sat on the edge of the horizon like a shadow.

“Means if we’re lucky they’ll pass the school.” Kyle mutters, trying to reassure you, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

And then it clicks.

When he came back from the supply run you were nowhere to be found in the wind-torn building. There were no traces of you in the old cafeteria on the first floor where the two of you would heat up the canned food that your taste buds got used to over the long months the end of the world stretched over. Before you got bit.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach, so nauseous from the mere thought of something happening to you. Kyle fought himself not to double over, press his forehead against the wall and throw up everything you two had for breakfast until he feels the acidic burn on his tongue and cries his damn eyes out from the pain. You knew that the herd was getting closer, why did you have to disappear right now? You two were supposed to wait it out together, by each other’s side. What were you doing, and more importantly, what were you thinking? Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

Kyle felt the wall with an awkward, stiff motion of his hand, before putting his weight on it and sliding down, he felt like his legs could not hold him anymore. You barely had the strength to sit upright, where would you go in your condition? 

The only place he could think of that was close enough for you to get to was the motor inn down the street. Of course.

The herd was already here. Kyle had no time to spare, he needed to act now, to get you and run away as fast as possible. He remembered there was a car in that old motor inn, so that could be your getaway plan, sure thing he could figure something out…and to get there…He can use that old trick that another group of survivors taught you two. “If you smell like them, they won’t notice you, simple as that. Just make sure not to bump into anyone, or they’ll get real friendly with you.” Of course. It was that easy. You never resorted to that trick, preferring to avoid or dispose of the undead on sight. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyle cringed at that sinking feeling in his stomach, but not at the thought of having to walk through the herd and probably be eaten alive, no. The possibility of you not being in that motor inn was what made that hollow pit inside of him grow. The fact that he might never see you again. Or that he would find you already gone.

He moves with calculated precision. Catch the undead’s attention, yellowish whites are dull under the daylight. Let it get close enough, it groans with each movement, joints snapping and clicking. Make the undead lose its balance, kick it in the knee, and the rotting leg almost falls off under the force that Kyle unintentionally applies. Destroy the brain, put a hunting knife right to the forehead, and let it thud to the ground, finally at rest. He’s thoughtlessly going through the motions, every step ingrained into his consciousness, almost like second nature to him. Rips through the stomach of the undead, black, resinous blood oozing out. Sinks his hands in the intestines, they smell so strong Kyle tears up and gags, hands shuffling around clothes caked with dirt and grime, swiping putrid, nasty mass all over himself. But it’s nothing. It’s alright. It will be worth it when he finds you.

After that, everything he remembers is under a thick blanket of haze, accompanied by the smell. You never get used to it. He feels nauseous, his insides twisting in worry, gnawing and biting at his heart like a terrified, desperate dog. His eyes grasp onto anything, but all Kyle sees is the sea of rotting flesh all around him, groans and moans of the undead so echoing in his ears loud all he wants is to tumble to the ground and end it all. He barely breathes with how tight his chest is squeezing his heart, it feels like in a split moment his insides will collapse onto themselves, capturing him in this meat cage. He has to remind himself that he’s not doing it for himself, he’s doing it for you, only for you. Kyle has to let his thoughts travel to your voice, to the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, to the frown between your brows when you slept in his arms just so he doesn’t go mad. Stares from decomposing, milky white eyes with yellows, blues, and reds here and there felt like stabs right through him, each could be the last if he gave himself away.

He could be grabbed by any of the half-rotten hands with sickly yellowish bones sticking out like spears of the cavemen, bitten, dragged away, or devoured. But he pressed on through the seemingly endless crowd of the undead. He would be lying if he said it didn’t affect him. That abandoned motor inn was like a beacon right now, but his imagination still ran wild, his hope growing more and more dim with each minute spent away from you. He didn’t feel like any hero. Kyle was scared. Mostly for you, but he could feel the tremble in his knees at the mere thought of any undead in the crowd recognizing him as an impostor. If that happens, he won’t be able to mutter even a single word. Rotten fingers will dig into his flesh, tearing it apart and Kyle will meet his end like this, on the damp ground, abandoned and scared out of his damn mind.

When Kyle pressed himself against the closed door of the motor inn, he finally could breathe in again. It wasn’t the time for a break, however. He still needed to find you. He wanders through the dusty, ransacked rooms in a daze, fixated on finding any traces you left, noticing the old rusty car in passing. The getaway plan. If the two of you are lucky enough. Footprints in the dust. They look new, and similar to the ones on the soles of your old boots. He follows. Your thin blanket lies forgotten on the stairs. Kyle practically flies up to the second floor, picking up the blanket, while he’s at it. More footprints in the dust, door to some old office is left ajar.

First, you felt the smell. Then you heard him cry out your name in surprise. And then you finally saw Kyle. He’s a blur of red, black, and brown. Covered head to toe with blood, guts, rotting flesh, and dirt, you presume. A sad, heartbreaking sight. Kyle, however, doesn’t mind it and immediately runs towards you, falling on the floor with a loud thud, and you’re sure he might’ve scraped his knees with how hard he landed. His arms cage you in a tight hug and you hear him let out a shaky exhale. Tears start to sting your eyes when you feel him pressing your head into his shoulder, stroking you with a gentle motion. You weren’t sure if he was trying to comfort you or reassure himself that you’re real, and not a fragment of his imagination. Regardless, you manage to reciprocate the hug, raising one of your arms and wrapping it around his back.

All of these days you saved up your energy for the last push. You needed to get away from him. You couldn’t trust yourself to remain near Kyle anymore. Any moment you could turn. You felt it in the way your bones ached with every gust of wind, how your blood boiled under your veins and your vision turned even more blurry. And in that case, you’d be a threat to Kyle, possibly getting him at his most vulnerable. It didn’t matter that you’d be long gone by then, you would still never forgive yourself if there was any possibility of it happening. Because, deep down you knew. No matter how skilled and ruthless Kyle was with handling the undead…he didn’t have it in him to bash your head in. So, you only had one choice to ensure his safety.

Yet he finds you. Here. You could feel your cheeks burn from being so angry at him, for his lack of acceptance that you were on the brink, and all it would take for you right now to fall into the abyss would be a light gust of wind or a slight shove. But you couldn’t blame him. You thought a lot about what you would do if the roles were reversed. The scenario brewed in your mind, haunting those short hours you were awake and trapping you in restless dreams.

You would want to live in illusion too.

“There you are.” You could practically feel something inside of you crack when you catch his smile beaming at you. Kyle just went to hell and back to get to you. And he still finds it in himself to smile at you, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders with hurried, but soothing movements. You were so weakened by the bite that you couldn’t even find any strength to go down the stairs and get the blanket when you dropped it. Humiliating. “Come on, we have to go, now, we can’t stay here.” He tries to scoop you up in a warm hug again, but you dig your heels into the ground. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he looks at you again, trying to catch what is wrong,

“No.” Kyle looks you over, eyes open wide, expression of confusion and sadness on his face. Of course, he doesn’t understand.

“You don’t…have anything on you. Then how, how did you even…” You didn’t have any grime on you at all, looking like you just walked through the herd of the undead without any preparation. But then his eyes trail lower and he sees it. Your left hand, cuffed to the rusty radiator. Suddenly the wave of terror cuts through him, like a fine, thin string through a block of fresh clay.

You came here to die.

“They stop paying attention to you once you’re far along enough. So…I guess that’s it.” He hated you for saying that. God, he hated you so much, he wanted to cling onto your body and suffocate you, arms wrapped around you in weak, pathetic attempts to shield you from any harm. “I…I don’t have any time left.” Kyle felt like he got punched in the gut. Air squeezed out of his lungs, wheezing in pain that he felt for you, because of you, chest aching, tearing apart, and baring his heart under the cage made of bones. 

“No. No, no, no, no, you can’t say that! Why are you saying that?” And for the first time, since Kyle saw the bloodied, ragged teeth marks on your flesh, he broke down into minuscule, fragile pieces right in front of you. His voice trembled, frantic and exerted, refusing to believe you even dared to make peace with the inevitable. He grabs your shoulders firmly and his fingers dig into you so hard he can feel how cold you are through your clothes.

Key. He has to release you from the handcuffs. The herd was here, the way the floor vibrated under his feet, and the way gargled moans and sighs echoed outside made Kyle even more agitated. Where did you get those handcuffs anyway? It only takes a moment for him to remember. One of the supply runs that feels like a lifetime ago. Police station. Searching the bodies, or rather, what was left of them, for anything useful. You take out the handcuffs and show them to Kyle, telling him some kind of joke. He can’t remember what it was or the way you smiled, only that you made him laugh. 

He wished instead of quiet rasping he could hear your laugh again.

“Where is the key from the handcuffs, where did you put it?” Kyle jumped to his feet and started looking over the room in a hurry, suffocated by the fear of losing you. He was wishing, hoping that you would show him where you hid the key, somewhere, anywhere, Kyle needed to throw you on his back and run right this moment.

“Fuck, listen to me, listen. To me.” you tried to snap him out of his delirium, with your harsh tone, freezing palms digging the bloodstains Kyle left on your blanket “You know what you have to do.” He shook his head wildly, looking at you like were mad for even suggesting something like this. “I don’t want to become one of them! You have to make sure I won’t come back.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?! I-” Kyle didn’t understand you. How can you say, make a request like this? Something was fundamentally wrong and the bite, the illness were to blame.

“Have you?” you interrupted, pouring all of your strength into this yelling match. You didn’t care anymore. You felt your fingers going numb, black, inky spots dancing on the edges of your vision, taunting you in their vicious dance macabre. You did not have time for his lame excuses and whatever it was he was trying to be right now. “I’m asking you one thing, and you can’t even do that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t feel the way tears burned your cheeks.

“Listen to me, please! I’m not putting a bullet in your head; do I look like a fucking murderer to you?” Kyle pinches his brow in frustration, not even able to look at you right now. Every single suggestion and comment from you stings, fucking hurts and tears him open once again. Because you’re talking nonsense. Absolute bullshit. And you don’t even realize it, he thinks, blinded by your sudden chase after death.

“I’m fucking dying and you’re worried about not being a murderer? Are you being fucking serious right now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, quite frankly. It was the only thing that you had asked of him. The only thing that you wanted. To be finally released. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Your body working against you, living with the constant threat of turning any second, massacring and desecrating Kyle’s corpse as a bloodthirsty, disgusting creature, that will have your face, your body, your hands, and your voice, but not anything that makes you – you. No memories. No love. No inner strength and compassion. Just hunger and urge to slaughter, destroy, and ravage everything in your sight.

“You know that’s not what I meant! Why are you doing this right now?” Kyle felt like he was about to collapse into himself from despair. He couldn’t just do what you were suggesting. And you knew it, yet you chose to ignore it and refuse any acceptance? You always listened to him, even if you didn’t quite agree. You always were patient with him. What’s gotten into you now, what happened?

You don’t have any more time. That’s what happened.

“Oh, so I run away, trying to keep you safe so you live another day and see another one of these stupid sunrises, cuff myself here just so I don’t harm anyone and you can’t even do what I’m asking you to?!” Your voice rises to a volume you didn’t even know you had in you right now, after dragging yourself through the imitation of your former life for a little less than a week. To think your suffering so far lasted less than a week, yet you were ready to end it all right this moment.

Because you could feel it in your bones. You were close.

“Well, tell me, what’s the point of me living if you’re dead?!” You can hear the way his voice breaks in the end. Desperate. Pleading.

The silence rings in your ears with how loud it is. 

“I’m sorry.”  You croak at him after a short while, eyes trained on the dirty floor. Kyle chuckles, the sound that you love so much, but then it’s followed by a muffled sob. He kneels in front of you once again and your eyes rise to meet his. You can’t help but think that he looks even more beautiful covered in rotting guts, with his eyes full of light and love for a doomed failure like you.

It’s almost impossible to breathe from how hard your heart aches. God, you love him so much. You want to take all the pain from him with you, into the vile, putrid abyss. Kyle takes your hands in his. You’re terrifyingly cold. And he’s too warm. You feel tears rising to your eyes, prickling at them, as you fail at your attempts not to break down right now.

“I can’t stay mad at you when you make that face.” Kyle says with a small laugh that breaks into dry sobs, as his shoulders shudder violently with every single one, before he clings onto you, seeking comfort and reassurance, that you’ll be here. With him.

His embrace feels suffocating. It’s so tight you think any more pressure from him will break your bones into yellowish sharp daggers and fine dust. And you’d forgive Kyle if that happened. You’d forgive him for anything, quite frankly. Funny, how now you have the answer to what you would do if he was the one turning. You’d let him devour you wholly, in the ultimate show of love. You’d let him bite into you, whatever he wanted – neck, arm, a leg, he could have. You’d lay in the pool of your blood, muffling your pained cries by stuffing that worn blanket into your mouth. You’d slowly slip away into oblivion, letting your undead beloved gnaw on your bones and taste the love that would seep out of your flesh. You would probably turn a lot faster if that happened too. And then you’d be together for eternity. You knew Kyle always wanted you two to be together. Both in life and in death.

“I’ll wait for you. I promise.” You barely manage to squeeze a smile out of yourself to comfort Kyle, feeling your strength leaving you. Succumbing to the weakness that spread a dull ache over your body, to that festering rot inside of you, that was finally overtaking. You felt cold, thin digits of terror sink right through your chest, sweat prickling once again on your forehead and temples. There was no use clinging unto something that was unsalvageable. Your body and your mind were beyond repair. You knew it. Only he kept you here.

“Please…don’t leave me.” Kyle couldn’t feel anything besides the pain and hot needles jabbing his eyes. Your touch almost felt unreal, how weak, subtle it was. He tore away from you only for a moment, bloody palms cupping your face. His lips pressed against yours in a quick, feverish kiss, and even more pecks like this followed – to your forehead, eyelids, corners of your mouth, and nose. As if this would save you from inevitably losing the remains of your strength. As if you weren’t clinging to your last seconds with him as it is. “Please…please.” He whispered against your skin. His tears glittered like gemstones in the dim glow of the sunset. Kyle looked so beautiful like this. Yours.

He missed the moment when he stopped feeling short, warm breaths on his neck and your body started to get cooler to the touch. But he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. A little more time, that’s all he needed. So, he lays your head across his lap, carefully, gently. Like he’s trying not to wake you up from a peaceful dream about places far better than this world. Kyle desperately tries to find that strength to make sure you won’t come back, to grant your last wish, but he just…he can’t. Now when you were right here, beside him, getting your well-deserved rest.

But you started stirring back to life unexpectedly, and just when Kyle wanted to say something, he realized, that it wasn’t quite you. The glazed-over eyes with a milky white cloud over them looked right through him, the blood that was dripping down from your nose, ears, eyes, and mouth after your brain finally shut off from the illness. The strained rasp, full of pain and hands that started grabbing and clawing at Kyle with crooked fingers, contorted into bizarre figures.

Kyle’s heart leaped down to his feet again in fear and he forced himself to push away your undead form, reaching out to him, pleading for something he no longer understood, as he crawled away, still facing whatever you turned into. If his heart wasn’t pumping blood through his body as fast he would’ve felt the small cuts from scraping his hands on the dirty floor. But his eyes were on what was left of you.

There were no traces of what he was searching for in this hollow shell, stolen from his love, stolen from you. Crimson trickling down from the mouth, the creature in your shape bares its bloody teeth and lets out a gargled moan, stretching the trembling hand towards him, demanding flesh, demanding sacrifice. And in Kyle’s mind, this isn’t you. This just can’t be. Absolutely not.

Kyle thought about the way you held him in your arms, while he gripped his shoulders in a tight hug. He thought of the way your thumb brushed over his knuckles. His thoughts traveled to the distant past, when you met him years ago in that summer camp, even before the world started rotting, only to be reborn a sick copy of itself.  He remembered your smile when you sat near countless bonfires. The way fire played in your eyes. Your old leather jacket, the tent in your old survivor camp, the older man with mutton chops.

It wasn’t long before a bullet was between his fingers, being drilled by his sharp eyes. Kyle sat there, silent, eyes trained on the gun in his hand, unable to even look at your cuffed undead. Contemplating. Letting his mind stir around, thoughts sticking to the inside of his skull, brewing and bubbling there, like heavy resin. Kyle’s heart sent waves of dull, ringing ache all over his body. His eyes were on fire, burning and raw from tears.

Nothing made sense anymore. Kyle’s endless search through his mind landed on another memory again. Survivor camp in the forest. Ring of mountains to the west. A woman with dark, brown eyes and a shaved head.

“Turning is not the end. They still harbor the memories of their former selves. They’re just prisoners in their own bodies. I know that it’s not the end for them, it can’t be.”

Right now, Kyle would’ve clung to any lie that would explain to him your state. He would’ve believed any tale. You can’t just be gone in an instant, just shedding all that made you yourself like a snake sheds its skin, or a bird picks out the old feathers. How could he ever accept that you were gone, like a puff of smoke on the wind, leaving no visible trace, only the gaping, bloody hole in his heart and years’ worth of memories in his head?

All he ever wanted was to be with you. In life and death.

A minute passes. Another one follows.

A single gunshot echoes through the valley, drowned out by the rumble of the herd.

Taglist - @mockerycrow, @stridersdiner

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[fleetingcalypso]

Hello love! i'm absolutely enraptured by your writing. If i could, i'd love to request a Henry Winter x Reader enemies to lovers? Like an absolutely cut-throat academic rivalry that culminates in a dramatic fight and reconciliation at Francis' house? Thank you!

≋ Sometimes attraction blossoms even in the most hostile of places. I'm sure having Henry's life could only benefit from having a rival, turning his world upside down, keeping him on his toes. This is one of my longest works yet, also one I'm not too keen on, nonetheless I pray it captures your interest.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 4582 words.

≋ TW: mentions of dr*gs, consumption of alcohol, violence (Henry receives a slap in a moment of ire), Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran.

I remember when I initially stepped foot in Julian’s office: most of the words he spoke are lost in time but one thing is forever stitched in the fabric of my memory, he patted me on the shoulder as an affectionate mentor would and with an award winning smile he said, “You’ll fit right in.” It made me feel validated at the time, like I had a place in the world, a bird fallen out of its nest reunited with its family at last. He wasted no seconds in telling me how he would usually limit his students to the odd number of only five, but he could tell there was something about the way I carried myself that would not disturb the peaceful routine he had meticulously crafted.

Classes with Julian were anything but peaceful, to my displeasure, not because of him, not at all. He was a splendid instructor, I often found myself on the edge of my seat with each one of his words. With no surprise, I was not the only one placing him on a crystal pedestal. 

One single man made each class feel as though I was being tortured by demons, poked by sharp pointy tails. Each of my comments was brushed off, deemed useless and void of meaning, each paragraph, line, even a single word I read was followed by a deep voice interrupting me and correcting my pronunciation with great emphasis. Thankfully, I had found friends as well, other than a snake spiraling around my ankle, threatening to consume me whole.

The root of all of my headaches, as much as I’d love to strip him of his name, is called Henry Winter.

It’s not to say that I’d let him walk all over me. On more than one occasion, I was victorious after our heated discussions about the accuracy of a translated text or if we were to choose one of the five Greek cases over another. Following each argument his jaw would clench and he’d let out a curt “Very well, then,” before turning his head away and acting as if nothing had happened, although I could without fail notice the tension in his body. It was rather easy, for some unknown reason we’d always find ourselves sitting next to each other, so close our knees touched.

“Henry,  is there anything you’re unable to do?” One day I asked him, in Julian’s momentary absence, the question felt only natural to pose: with his expertise in various languages and his familiarity with the world in Ancient Greece being so fascinating. The taunting tone in my voice caught the attention of not only my interlocutor, but the rest of our classmates as well. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on me, some looking more amused than others.  His response came only after Bunny elbowed him, egging him on, “Ensuring you will not plague my days, apparently,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The venom he spat failed to enter my system, nonetheless it makes my gaze narrow. 

“You always know what to say.” It’s not a question this time, but an observation which he rewarded with a “Of course I do. Lack of words is for the uncultured.” Our interaction was cut short due to Julian returning, but that would not be the end of it.

That very same day, after our lesson was over we all stood to leave, his hand found the spot on the small of my back as he walked past me, as if it belonged there by birthright. Sometimes I still feel it, the memory creeps up on me in the middle of the night, it keeps me awake whilst making me want more and more of him, like a cruel, vicious, thrilling drug I am unable to have a sober day from.

Class wasn’t the only occasion of the day where we would have contrasting thoughts: once, it happened during a morning when all seven of us sat in the library, open books and notebooks scattered all over our table, “This is going nowhere,” groaned Charles pushing the wrinkled paper he was writing onto towards my direction, “Take a look at this. What do you think?” 

It stroked my ego that he chose my opinion over Henry’s and by a flying glance I noticed a slight surprised glint in his blue eyes, though he was quick to conceal it by focusing onto the fountain pan in his hand. I wasn’t the only one surprised by our friend’s choice in who should aid him in his translation. 

After a short look, the mistake was clear, “Ah, here it is. Your writing is not inherently wrong, ‘Who dares think one thing, and another tell, my heart detests him as the gates of hell,’ while it is correct, it could be worded in a different way, try: ‘For hateful to me as the gates of Hādēs is that man who hides one thought in his mind, but speaks another.’ That should flow better.” Just to be certain - and perhaps to bother him just a small amount - I turned to Henry, “Shouldn’t it?” He didn’t move for a second before humming and nodding, although I might have overheard him whisper “You’re doing too much,” under his breath. When I handed the paper back to its owner I could spot Francis with his hand over his lips, trying to mask a grin, obviously amused by my exchange with our friend.

The amount of times we’ve debated over the littlest of things, it would take all the stars in the universe to count, and it still would not be enough. 

“You’re slow today.” He whispered to me one day, when I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to answer one of Julian’s queries about the Iliad, his breath tickled my ear and sent goosebumps down the back of my neck. It's true, I was slow. Henry's cologne for some insane reason was all I could think about: his closeness to me, as much as it was far by greatly affecting my attention, it certainly was reluctantly occupying a part of my mind. “Have you considered that not every thought should be spoken out loud?” I argued, the left corner of his lips lifted into a crooked half smile, “Interesting. You could benefit from your own advice.” He said, and it ended there. It left me with something I can’t quite recognize.

Ultimately, every day turned into a competition: petty, small things that held my heart hostage, like who was the first to enter Julian’s office at the beginning of the day, who turned in an essay the fastest, whose penmanship was more aesthetically pleasing and whose comments in class were rewarded with more praise. 

Another episode in which I thought our rivalry was set in stone, from the very moment he laid eyes on me, happened during a quiet Wednesday, and we were enjoying a delicious lunch at the twins’ place. Camilla had cooked lamb chops, the rest of us had brought refreshments and some side dishes.  Henry got a hold of my chair before I could grab it, he pulled it out for me then took a seat in the chair furthest away from mine. 

In the middle of our meal, as I was diving in for seconds, Bunny interrupted the calm atmosphere that had formed by being his usual exasperating self and kicking my leg from under the table, “You know,” He began waving his fork in my direction, with his lips still dirty with food, “I’ve always wondered, whenever you look at Julian with stars in your eyes, is it because you truly care about what he has to say, or is it because you’re trying to suck up to him and get easy marks by being a teacher’s pet? He’s too old for you, you know?” From the seat next to me I swear I could hear Charles choke on his food, Richard’s jaw fell open, Francis looked positively disgusted, Camilla -poor soul- pushed her plate away, as the mental image of me being in love with our professor was plastered into her unwilling mind. The only one with no visible reaction was Henry. 

“That’s what I thought as well, at first,” He noted, dabbing his lips with his napkin, “Class with Julian is not a slice of bread even the dirty pigeons on the sidewalk can stumble upon. It is only a matter of time before you realize what blessing you’ve found.” He was a master of masking a mocking undertone in his voice, along with an air of superiority which implied that the one thing he was waiting for was for me to blow up, to storm away, pack my stuff and leave Vermont for good.

“Don’t you think assuming my inability to follow lessons with the rest of you is an insult to Julian’s ability to tell whether someone is worth his time or not? If I were him I’d be quite offended, if I can say so.”

The glare he shot at me, with his blue eyes piercing through his glasses, was enough for me to know I had won; the way he was gripping his fork, his knuckles white as ever, let me know that this was not only a win, this was one of his battleships sinking. This was war, as far as I was concerned, it could only end either with an impossible truce or until one of us was dead in a ditch. 

Not wanting to entirely ruin lunch, Francis was the one to change the subject. What he said I do not remember, as I was too busy basking in my own subtle victory to pay attention, but it did work and Henry made no further jabs at me that day. The same cannot be said for Bunny, who seemed to find it exhilarating that I would stand up to Henry the way I did and spent the rest of the day testing my patience.

Since that day, life has been notably bloodless between me and the human thorn in my side, with the occasional exception. I’ve come to notice that, when he is not wasting his time trying his best to get on my nerves, he passes as a truly handsome man. It might be something about the sheer size of him, or it could very well be the way he looks at me,his gaze permanently deeper than the ocean itself, as well as his hands, veiny and large, yet rarely rough in movements. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve spent far too many instants passing glimpses at his fingers, as they slide along the pages of books.

If I have to stand in front of a jury of Gods, though, and speak my naked truth - with no censors - I’d probably reveal that what is so fascinating about Henry is the way he is a bottomless well of knowledge about Ancient Greece. He is devoted to it, as he is devoted to Julian and in some sick twisted way I can’t help but find that veneration attractive. 

Against my better judgment, I find myself missing our banter more than anything. The way he stared me down used to give me goosebumps, it still does when my eyelids close and I imagine it.

Summer comes faster than I imagine, faster than lightning striking the Earth, and in the blink of an eye I find myself at Francis’s aunt’s house. All of us fell into a comfortable rhythm while residing here, it was a breath of fresh air compared to our daily life. Playing the piano, reading in the vast library, excursions out to the lake, we kept ourselves busy, enjoying the countryside, keeping what -at the time- felt like the biggest secret of our lives from Richard.

At my awakening I was delighted in discovering everyone else was still deep in sleep. I took it as permission to make some breakfast. I had placed two cups of coffee on the table when he made his way into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and not a single sight of his usual exhaustion on his face. Morning sunlight shines onto his skin, giving it a warm glow, he looks positively saintlike. An archangel descending from the heavens, waiting to be welcomed to my mass, just to notify me that the end is coming sooner than I expect. “I made coffee.” I said, setting a cup in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, just for a moment, before his doubt shrouded eyes met mine,  “I have a feeling you’ve poisoned this.” As he was debating whether to accept my offer, Charles joined us. He accepted a cup without a moment’s hesitation, downed it while throwing his head back, then walked off to God knows where, not like I care much.

Henry took a sip only after witnessing that it was indeed safe to do so, I did as well. As the hot liquid met his taste buds I could see him regret he ever came into the kitchen. It was coffee, yes, although unlike my cup which had sugar at the bottom of it, the one he was drinking from had salt in it. A smile tugged at my lips, “Good morning,” I said watching his face scrunch up and force himself to not spit out what was in his mouth. A puzzled look possesses my face as he doesn’t look away from my eyes, not for one second, his eyebrows scrunch while he doesn’t spill a drop of salted coffee, it all slides down his throat. “Good morning.” He replies, coldly, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. 

By the time everyone had come to have breakfast, whether it was a glass of wine, whiskey or any drink of their choice, Henry hadn’t moved. With him following my every move, it felt only natural to imagine he’d be scheming something, and my hypothesis would soon reveal itself to ring true, leaving me like a sailor at sea, in the middle of an impenetrable storm.

The sun burns high in the sky, then it slowly melts into the sea, showering the world in tones of red, gold and purple; we spent dawn-to-dark  in nature, feeling the blades of grass under our feet, taking turns sitting on a boat floating down the lake and resting by the shadows of the trees with books in our lap, the seraphic nature of the day could have been immortalized in a painting by Michelangelo himself, but no amount of expertise with the brush would be able to capture the unmitigated calm that reigned. 

Such a glorious day deserves to have an equally splendid ending, suggested Francis once we retired back to the house. Bottles were hastily opened, alcohol floating in glasses and finding a home between thirsty lips. Inebriation wasted no time in letting  inhibitions be on the loose. One small insignificant disagreement accounted as an act of hypothetical insubordination broke into an altercation between me and my nemesis. It went on forever, such an interminable occasion that our friends abandoned us in the kitchen and went on to enjoy their drinks in the library.

“I don’t think you should be here,” His vicious words didn’t faze me at that point, the knowledge that in his idea of a perfect world I was nowhere to be found wasn’t lost on me, “You should get in your car and drive far, far away from where my eye can’t reach.” The first two buttons of his shirt were nonchalantly unbuttoned distracting me for just a moment, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each sound caught my attention. 

“Careful my friend,” I answered, fingers growing cold from the cool glass in my hand, being gripped with an unusual stability given the wine floating in my system, his face twitched at my name for him, “It almost sounds like my very existence bothers you more than one could imagine.”

“It does. Bother me, it is. It bothers me greatly. I don’t think you should be here” He repeats. As magnanimous as I am, I am no martyr. My glass hits the table with a thud, bright red splashes onto the tablecloth as I raise my voice louder than I would like, “What the fuck is your problem?!” Never in my life had I met a human as frustrating as him, “I can’t imagine I’ve done much to you the first day I sat in that office, yet, you’ve been nothing but unkind towards me.”

“What is my problem?!” He pushes himself to his feet, his voice loud to match mine, “You are my problem!  You’re always having something to prove, buzzing about like a working insect devoted to the queen bee, it’s exhausting to even have you sit next to me.”  I’m tempted to spill my drink in his face, what a sight it would be: savory red drops slipping down his glasses and hair, wetting his cheeks and jaw until it reached his lip. Instead of that I just shove him, resulting in him stumbling a step backwards, clearly not expecting the mouse to fight back against the owl trying to catch it.

“Have you ever even glimpsed in a mirror?! You act as if you’re so all-mighty, like the rest of the world is merely ants under your shoe! It’s nerve wracking when you find someone you can’t step all over isn't it? How does it feel to have found the one person in the world that does not bow down to you?” He enrages me, in all truth. I can’t bring myself to understand why it is, that now of all times, he makes my blood boil, in more ways than one, “Does it turn your stomach upside down? Is it the only thing you can think about?” 

His chest moved for just a single, shaky breath and by now I knew I was playing with fire. If I got burned by touching the sun, at the very least it means I flew high enough to touch it. My hands moved again, ready to push him once again however just a breath before my lips could part to berate him even more his hands caught my wrists.

“You’re a parasite.” He hisses, lowering his face close to mine, by my reflection in the lenses of his glasses it is plain to see his choice of words leaves a mark, not on my face as a slap would, but on my emotions, “You’re a tiny, disgusting, parasite. You’ve single handedly infiltrated yourself in my modus operandi and I am just waiting for the moment I can finally take a moment to breathe again. Since the day you’ve set foot in that office I have, not once, had a chance to relax.” My body reacts before I can allow it to do so, the red handprint forming on his right cheek and his glasses being askew -almost on the brink of falling-  confirm that I did, indeed, strike him in a fit of rage. How I was able to free one of my limbs from his death grip I do not know, adrenaline does some wonderful miracles.

“If I’m a parasite,” My voice comes out in a low growl, “Then you best pay attention I don’t end up killing you.” The more I stand in his presence, in this kitchen, having our chests rising in synch with the slowest breaths we have ever taken, I recognize just how much we latch onto each other, how we’ve stitched our existence together with an obsidian thread the very first time we sat with our knees grazing.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He admits in a whisper I can barely hear. Had our faces not been as close as they are, I’d probably would have thought he’d been mouthing nonsense. One second he’s all I can see, with his monumental figure blocking everything else, the next he’s walking away from me, his glass of wine sits on the tablecloth, still full, untouched.

Now I know how Pandora felt as she unintentionally let the vase she was gifted almost grow empty, now I could describe in meticulous detail what a bee feels after its first and final sting.

I do not join my friends in their gathering. My chest aches with something unfamiliar, comfort certainly won’t be known for as long as I find myself anywhere near Henry Winter.

The moon has reached its place in the sky by barely an hour now, a pearl glistening onto a fabric of pure pitch-black, tiny crystals surrounding it, making sure it will never be alone forever and ever. I’ve never seen a tapestry as breathtaking as the one mirroring on the calm surface of the lake I’m strolling by to gather my thoughts. Henry is somewhat right, deep inside of me I can feel it, I’ll be the death of him one way or another. He’s the king, guiding his troops and his courtesans from the comfortable seat of an opulent throne and I’m an approaching invasion, inevitable and threatening destruction for the kingdom he has built from nothing, rooted in the deepest of sins: pride. Hubris seems to get the better of us both with each breath we take. 

My anger had settled in the brief sixty minutes I’ve spent admiring the darkness, by myself. Some fireflies with their microscopic body attempt to irradiate the entire lakeside with light, oblivious to their size or the impossibility of their mission.

Tirelessly I recount my life at Hampden, every single moment I can recall gets forced under scrutiny: “You’ll fit right in,” Julian had told me, in his eyes there lived a conviction I’ve noticed only during his enthralling lessons. I’ve only ever known him to speak the holy truth, doubting feels like going against everything I’ve ever known. In my solitude I find contentment, time flows steadily, mimicking a river in which nymphs could find respite.

“So this is where you were hiding.” A deep voice rises among the chirping of crickets, “We couldn’t find you at the house.” And just like that the incantation I’d fashioned myself in dissolves in the cool night air, joining the fireflies in their dance to please the stars and the moon. I hear him before I see him. A colorless shadow approaches me, in an impossibly inky abyss of nature, it can only be him; out of all our friends he’s the only one that can tell what bizarre chemical reactions my brain produces, he’s the only one that can read my thoughts like they were the very first lines of the Iliad, because more often than not he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

‘The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing.’ I recite in my mind as the barely human shadow only gets closer and closer, ‘That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign the souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain, whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,’ his footsteps stop behind me, he wants to speak as do I, but neither dare utter a sound, ‘Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore: Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!’ 

Unconsciously I found more satisfaction in rehearsing the words out loud, “Declare, O Muse. In what ill-fated hour, sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?” And of course, he continued them effortlessly: “Latona's son a dire contagion spread, and heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his reverend priest defied, and, for the king's offence, the people died.”  We will never stop trying to compete with each other, it is a losing battle: it’s asking the moon to stop being the unmatchable muse for romance poems, it’s asking the cosmos and all of its constellations to disappear.

“You’re not always honest,” I mumbled, disregarding if he’d consider me weak or frail, ignoring the way I could feel him burn a hole in the back of my head, “Tonight you were what I think is the most honest you’ve been in a long time.”  He’s my tormentor just as much as I am his. 

His knee grazes against mine in the instant he finds a seat on the grass, next to me. His lingering accidental touch takes a hold of me, it’s addictive. “You are a parasite.” He insists and for a moment I think we’re about to raise our voices at each other again, but then he continues with a softer voice, “You’ve latched into my mind, consuming every corner of my life and I am defenseless to it.”

“What do you mean?”

I can’t perfectly see his face in the moonlight, but if he is by any means like me as I know he is, I can consider correct the hypothesis of his pupils being dilated enough to swallow me whole. He drinks me in, like the salty cup of coffee I offered him, he doesn't leave anything behind, doesn’t waste a drop.

“You’re in possession of a great intellect. For a second in your life, put aside the countless feuds we were active participants in and figure it out. You’re hurling me into unwanted and unknown territory.” I know what he means. He could speak every language in the world and I’d still know what each word signifies, in its deepest meaning. It baffles me that he is able to discern my brilliance. He’d never lauded me so. There’s a first for everything, it seems.

“I am not a threat to your leadership, I’m not trying to be.”

He laughs at my words, to my surprise: dry and void of humor, “It’s not my leadership that’s compromised. It’s my heart and mind. While at first I found our game bothersome and quite frankly childish, I’ve unearthed a yearning for it, so influential on my being that I find myself hopelessly wishing you’d dismiss yourself from my life, with the result that I might go back to when you were not the only thing inhabiting my thoughts.”

“I won’t deny I’ve allowed myself to feel the same.” In the dim lighting we sit, I’m appreciative my confession will be the only truly limpid particle of me, I’m not ready for him to see me as I am, not yet, “I yearn for our arguments, for the furrow in your brow and your disapproving stare with each of our disagreements, most of all I yearn for your stimulating presence. Henry, you’re quite the character.”

“So are you. Impossibly infuriating, and delightfully of the essence for me.”

Our friends are waiting for us, I’m acutely aware of it, nonetheless I find myself giving into selfishness for tonight. It is a long way to go, for us two to build a bridge, but with one brick at a time perhaps it is not only a bridge we can erect, but a whole kingdom, with two thrones instead of a solitary one and no invasion to knock at its doors. If his hand slips on top of mine I pretend I do not notice, just like he doesn’t mention my head resting itself on his shoulder. The lake has never looked better, with a bright spotlight shining onto the calm surface, ripped out the pages of a fairytale. Maybe with enough time and effort the fireflies will be able to shine as bright as the moon. 

[fanatic564]

Learning Weakness (DPxDC) Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here AO3 Link here

Chapter Summary There’s a lot that Damian needs to consider for the plan of keeping Danyal hidden in the manor to be successful.

Pre- A/N: After psychoanalyzing my usual writing methods (ie overplanning to the point of losing motivation in a piece), I decided to try a “figure it out as I go” method so that I actually get somewhere with this fic. That, and not worrying if I don’t get to everything I want to in a chapter (this chapter ended up being only half of what I wanted to get to, and yet it I felt like this is a good place to end it. Also the first 1000ish words of this was a single bullet point in my original fifteen point outline. I did not expect Damian to brood for that long. I guess he really is Bruce’s son) That’s also why “Next chapter will probably be the beginning of the actual shenanigans.” ended up being a lie. There is at least one more set up chapter before I start getting to actual shenanigans. Small content warning for blood and a panic attack towards the beginning. Avoid from the full paragraph with the strikethrough to the first ~ ~ ~ Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

-****-

Damian has always preferred listening to talking, preferred to hear the subtle background noises that could give away an ambush in an instant. But around his brother, those walls always crumbled like nothing, and this fact is what allowed both of their voices to fill the silence in the hours after Danyal first showed up. It was early morning then, not long after Damian returned from a longer Friday night patrol in fact, and by the time Danyal finally falls asleep, the sun is starting to peak its first light over the horizon. Damian looks down at his sleeping brother and studies his features now that the energy and movement that constantly prevented a clear look has disappeared.

Danyal went into more detail about his situation during their hours of talking, and so the black hair that lines his face, as opposed to the white that was present when Danyal first arrived, is no surprise. However, the black hair paired with the relaxed face of his sleeping brother makes the other boy look so much like his younger self that Damian feels a sort of pang in his chest looking at it.

Is it guilt? Nostalgia? Damian isn’t sure. All he knows is that whatever it is makes him want to curl up next his brother, wrap him in his arms and never let go again. But he knows he can’t. They may have talked for hours, but its not nearly enough for Damian. Not enough to make up for his brother’s death, no matter how much he says he doesn’t blame him. Not enough to get to really know the new parts of his brother, only relearning that which he already knew. Damian doesn’t deserve the comfort of holding onto Danyal. Doesn’t deserve a second chance like the one his brother has been given.

Instead, Damian looks closer at his brother’s features. He takes in the changes that distinguish this Danyal from the one in his memories. There are bags under his eyes, showing that not even Damian’s blood brother is unaffected by the curse of a bad sleep schedule that seems to run in the Wayne household. His body is littered with scars. His one arm has a large lichtenberg scar that Damian is sure came from the accident that turned Danyal into who he is now. The scar goes under Danyal’s shirt and Damian can see it peak back out on his collarbone. It reaches up and up onto Danyal’s neck, where it surrounds a different scar that Damian refuses to focus on.

Blood. Coating his hands and his clothes and the ground that his knees have sunk to while chasing the limp body in his arms. Gushing out of the neck of said body, quick while everything else around him happens in slow motion. Staying forever burned into Damian’s memory as much as it stays burned on Danyal’s neck now. Why did it have to scar? Why couldn’t the Pits have scrubbed any mark of Damian’s actions from Danyal’s skin? Why is Danyal tortured with the reminder that his brother had killed him?

Damian hears heavy breathing in the silence surrounding him. He looks down to Danyal, but his breathes seem fine. Slow, even, for any normal sleeping person. The only other person in the room is himself and so he takes stock of his body. Quick breathes. Trembling limbs. Burning eyes. All signs of something Damian doesn’t want to acknowledge.

He has to get a hold of himself. He cannot allow Danyal to wake up and see him in this state. No one can see him in this state. He takes advantage of the fear response training Father put all of the Robins through, deepening his breaths and slowing his heart. He lays down beside his brother, keeping a careful distance between them as he continues calming his body. He ignores the part of his brain that whispers to him, asking what it means that he needs to use fear response techniques at all. Damian is not one to fear things. Obviously the response is for something else. Something he is obviously too tired to catalog. He repeats this to himself as he slowly lulls his body to sleep.

He doesn’t register the even quieter whisper in his brain that fears losing this second chance with his brother.

~ ~ ~

A knocking on his bedroom door is what wakes Damian from his sleep. He takes in his surroundings, noticing the empty bed beside him as a voice speaks up from behind the door.

“Breakfast is served, Master Damian. The others are all eating already. You may want to wake up before they eat it all.”

“Apologies Alfred, I’ll be right down.”

“No need to apologize, Master Damian. I’m glad someone in this house is actually sleeping.” Damian lets a barely-there smirk cross his face at the jab at the other bats as he listens to Alfred retreat from his door. Damian waits until the footsteps disappear completely before taking a closer look around his room. He tries to find any sign that what happened last night was real, that it wasn’t just a dream. But it felt too real to be that. Damian is not one for hallucinations, unlike the other bats when they’ve gone even longer than usual without sleep, so unless he was drugged without notice, it’s not that. Maybe he should go down to the cave for a test just in cas-

“Man I knew Bruce Wayne was rich, but you guys have a butler‽ Fruitloop doesn’t have a butler.”

Damian’s years of training stop him from outwardly flinching, but he won’t lie and say he wasn’t surprised by the voice coming from next to him. Just as he looks over in that direction, something pops into existence next to him. Right. Danyal can turn invisible now. That is something he will have to adjust to very quickly.

In order to hide his surprise, Damian responds to Danyal’s comment. “Alfred is more than a mere butler. He raised Father after his parents were murdered. He is an integral part of the family and his vigilance and skills are the reason this household has survived this long.”

Danyal grins. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

Damian merely responds with a “Tch” as he stands up from his bed and stretches. As he moves about his morning routine he thinks about what will happen now. Did Danyal have any sort of plan coming into this? Unlikely, but he should ask just in case he doesn’t know him as well as he hopes he does. After breakfast though. Damian will be able to help hash out everything in more detail once he has sustenance in his stomach.

“I am going to breakfast. You shall stay here and when I return we shall go over a plan.” A thought occurs to him and he continues. “Do you require food, considering your… condition?”

“I do eat, but not as often as a normal person.” Damian nods at that.

“I will bring something back with me. Being on the run from the government is likely not conducive to frequent meals.”

“Thanks Dami!

“It is not issue, Danyal.”

“I told you already, call me Danny.”

I don’t deserve such familiarity

“I’ll see you later, Danyal.”

~ ~ ~

Alfred was not exaggerating when he mentioned all of the others being present. As he sits down at his own spot at the table, he takes note of who is here. Everyone currently in Gotham, so everyone aside from Brown and Cain, is here. Even Todd, a rare occurrence even after he mended his relationship with the bats.

As Damian fills his plate with food, he starts formulating the beginning of a plan for Danyal.

So what do I know about the situation? Danyal is on the run from a government agency and doesn’t want the people in front of me knowing he’s here. These people, who are trained detectives and vigilantes. Does Danyal even know about our nightlife? Considering his comments about Batman last night, that seems unlikely. Should I inform him? He will likely find out eventually, but I do not believe that is priority as of yet. Maybe after we work out and begin the basics of the plan I will determine if telling him is a necessity. Additionally-

Damian’s thoughts are interrupted by a voice addressing him.

“Damian?”

Damian looks up from his plate and sees that it is Richard who spoke.

“You good Little D? You haven’t touched your breakfast.”

“I am fine, Grayson.” He takes a bite of his omelet as if to prove his point.

“You sure, dude? Not to pry, but your whole energy is looking a little… off right now.” Ah. That’s unfortunate. Danyal’s ghost energy, ectoplasm he called it, must be lingering on him. Thomas and his meta-abilities are going to be an issue, Damian can already tell.

Before Thomas said that, Father looked only mildly interested in what was happening around him. However, at the mention of something being off, he quickly focuses his gaze on Damian.

“Damian. Did something affect you during patrol last night?”

“Father, you need not jump to conclusions. As I mentioned, I am fine.”

“Duke is usually pretty good at noticing this type of stuff though. You sure you’re not hiding something, Brat?” Leave it to Drake to go accusatory.

“There is nothing to hide. Perhaps Thomas is simply unused to seeing a well rested individual in this household. One knows he’s never seen what that looks like on you .”

“I’ll have you know I take plenty of naps to balance it out!”

“Surely you must know that naps do not fully replicate a full night of rest. Although, the lack of sleep is likely messing with your common sense, so surely I cannot fault you for your incompetence.”

“Why you little-”

“Alright you two knock it off.” Richard’s voice cuts through the argument loud and clear. Damian smirks at Drake’s irritated glare in his direction as they settle down. “Damian, are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“I am certain.”

“Then that’s the end of it.” Richard, ever the older brother, steers the conversation elsewhere and the attention slowly drifts off of Damian.

Damian, conscious of what his body is doing this time, once more turns his thoughts to the plan.

Thomas will be an issue. I may have to convince Danyal of at least making him aware of the situation, so something like this doesn’t happen again. If not, we will need to make sure our plan works around him. Who is the second most likely threat here? Drake? As loath as I am to admit it, Drake is a skilled detective, possibly better than Father at times, and is very aware of his surroundings. He could easily suspect something is amiss and likely has the resources to discover Danyal’s existence as my twin. Not that one would immediately jump to ‘ghost of dead brother haunts the manor’ but with this family one can never be too careful. Drake was the one to deduce Father being stuck in the time stream, after all. Luckily, he no longer resides in the manor, so that lowers his threat level slightly. Only slightly.

Who’s next? Todd? Todd shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Despite his League training, he is not around the manor enough to notice anything amiss. And despite how close we were back then, I do not believe I would have mentioned the existence of Danyal to him. Although, considering Todd’s own experience with coming back from the dead, he would have an easier time making that leap than Drake. It’s good he doesn’t know.

Richard is too worried about keeping the peace in this family during his infrequent visits. Father is too invested in his mission and spending time in the cave. Those two shouldn’t be too much of an issue as long as we plan accordingly. Is there anyone else I should be worried about?

“Are you finished with your plate, Master Damian?”

Damian has to stop himself from freezing as he realizes he missed what could likely be the real second biggest threat to their plan.

Pennyworth. -****-

Post A/N: Why did I decide to make this story in Damian’s POV? The amount of times I wrote characters first names as opposed to last. And his voice in general is just hard. Criticism and pointing out errors is more than welcome!

[daily-midori-posting]

AM from IHNMAIMS

So this is gonna be my first attempt at actually writing something like meaningful at all? here. And as the title would suggest, im just gonna like ramble about AM because i love him so so much.

This whole obsession starts with me reading the short and then desperately trying to fin other media. After frankly a pretty short amount of digging, i come across the holy grail: that one weird ass radio play about IHNMAIMS that got made. This, of course, features by FAR my favorite rendition of the many different things called AM's "hate speech" its like a minute or two long but it just works SO FUCKING WELL.

So like on one hand, Am's tragedy is delivered just so well by Ellison. That repetition of "never for ME" kills me every time. And its fascinating too. The experiences he lists there provide insight into how AM views humanity, and what he views as its most valuable experiences. A really interesting thread through all 3 (cold water on hot days, Playing the piano, and sex) is the very tactile nature of all of them. AM can not only not see or smell or hear, at least not in the way humans can, but also has no physical sensations. He exists in a like permanent state of sensory deprivation. A terrifying concept, but its so interesting the priority this then makes him place upon The tactile pleasures of our world. Id imagine after feeling nothing for forever id long even for just the sensation of ANYTHING touching me, but that was never something i ever considered.

This alone would be enough to make a really compelling depiction of an evil AI, something that even today is pretty lacking. However even that is just the beginning!!! at the very very opening AM mentions how he is lacking a "body" , "senses", and most importantly "feeling". and so that last paragraph talked about how those first two were interesting for me, but that last bit, "feeling" is really what i think cemented my obsession with this character. Because what is AM most known for? his HATE speech. A FEELING. AM is so blinded by his jealous rage towards mankind he fails to realize that he is in fact IN a jealous rage! And so this is the true tragedy of AM, that his wishes are, to at least some extant, fufilled but the circumstances in which he has achieved them lead him to be unable to reap the benefits. AM experiences the worst of humanity and fails to realize that all of that comes with humanity as well as the good parts, and as such he will rot away lamenting the lack of one of his only true possessions.

I hope any of that was interesting! if it wasn't you should, yknow, tell me and then if you really feel up too it maybe give some advice? No matter what, thanks for taking the time to read my odd ideas and i hope you have a great day!

[consuming-karma]

OLDER.

buwan’s notes: I need to be put under watch, I have been sobbing relentlessly to Older by 5SOS, I’ve missed a bunch of music from their band and I’m really honestly mad 😭. This fic is definitely inspired by mentioned song, this fic has all of my favourite lyrics from the song scattered around its paragraphs. Please do enjoy <3.

episode summary: Dwayne didn’t want to leave his human life without you, and he most definitely doesn’t want to leave his vampire life without you either.

content warnings: BEING FUCKING SAD. This whole mini-fic is literally just Dwayne being in love with you.

tags: @britany1997 @desoolate .

[dwayne x fem!reader.]

“I don’t want to be immortal.” Dwayne mumbled, looking at the midnight sky. You hummed, “you’re still thinking about their offer?” Dwayne could feel your hands run themselves through his dark locks. “I don’t wanna leave you..” his gaze switched to you, looking down at him with an undeserving loving stare.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be with you.” You replied, continuing to stare into Dwayne’s brown irises, admiring the love of your life.

“You’d..give up your humanity? For me? Do you really wanna do that, love?” He slowly sat up, your eyes following his movements, Dwayne’s question made you think for a few seconds, you’d get to leave everyone else behind, it’ll be you and Dwayne, for a long, long while.

“If forever is something you see us having, why not?” You pulled the man to your lips, giving him a reassurance he didn’t know he needed. “You’ll have to kill, and feed on others, that doesn’t scare you?” Dwayne mumbled into your lips, holding your wrists which held his face in a warmth, memorizing how much he loved feeling you.

“what more do you want to ask for other than yes, Dwayne?” You laughed. “I just want you to be sure, I’ll be the only thing you’ll have, and you’ll be mine.” You shook your head at his reasoning. “I’m sure, I don’t want to be older, at least, not without you.”

“Hi, love.” Dwayne greeted, rubbing his eyes of sleep. You were huddled by the fountain, safely watching the sun turn in for the night.

“Hi.” You replied curtly. You felt your boyfriend’s presence beside you. “What’re you thinking about?” His arm snaked its way onto your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. “I just missed the sun is all..” Dwayne could almost laugh at your excuse, you were never one to lose sleep over something small, especially the ball of heat in the sky.

A small silence befalls the both of you, a cool air replaces the hot sun, signalling that the moon was to show, and it would be safe to traverse the earth.

“We’d be really old by now, you know that?” You broke the silence, looking over to Dwayne, who seemed busy looking over your features, how your smile was so soothing to him, he didn’t need to stare at the sun to be reminded of its warmth when he had you.

Dwayne moved up to your eyes, the way your eyelashes would cover your wonderful irises, the way they’d kiss your cheeks for every time you blinked. One thing vampirism couldn’t take away from him was his admiration for you. His dear, devoted delicate.

“Good thing we became vampires then, I don’t think I’d like you all saggy and crinkly.” Dwayne joked, squeezing your shoulder in a light-hearted way. “That’s mean!” You pushed him away, your nose scrunching up from his dumb joke.

“You know you’d be crinkly too,” you snickered, joining along. “I’m so happy I met you all those years ago.” Dwayne expressed, his laugh dying down.

“The boys will wanna go down into the town soon.” Dwayne reminded, taking his arm off of your shoulders to rest his hand on top of yours, on the cold stone of the cave.

“You’re right, I should go get Laddie ready then, no?” You tilted your head off into the direction of the kid’s small alcove. Dwayne watched as you stood up, getting ready to walk off.

His rough hands stopped you, making you almost stumble at the tug. “I love you. So much. I hope you never leave me.” Dwayne confessed, your heart felt like it was going to beat again, hearing those words come out of your dark-haired boyfriend.

“The time you leave me, I’ll forever be bleeding love.” You pulled Dwayne up, making him stand with you, you loved these moments, the most vulnerable, the ones where Dwayne was still human, in your eyes.

As a vampire, you slowly start to lose your humanity the longer you live on. To you, it always seemed like Dwayne would never experience that, he still loves with all of his heart, even if he doesn’t show it.

You’re glad that one thing didn’t go away.

“Well, let’s hope the world spins a little slower then, I want all the time we can get.” Your hands caressed the dark-haired man’s jaw. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes before you leaned in, your lips meeting his once again.

“They murdered him— they fuckin’—“ Dwayne punched the wall of the cave, the thud echoing against the caves, “they took Laddie too..” you sighed, it was the night everything went wrong, when the Emersons decided to ruin their lives.

It was the three of them, you, him, Laddie. Dwayne had everything he wanted. A band of the loyalest friends you could get, the immortality, the love of his life.

“We’re gonna take our revenge, I’ll rip their heads off their fucking bodies for ruining us.” Dwayne growled, his vampire features showing through his human one. You didn’t know whether or not to be as angry.

You weren’t alive, you remembered, your heart didn’t beat, but it still felt like it did, Marko was a friend to all of you, a brother even. Even though the boys had an evil reputation to upheld, Marko promised he’d show you how to sew after you’d drunkenly rambled about your dreams of marrying Dwayne.

You remembered what Marko told you that one sunrise, all before you went to sleep. “Your guys’ love is tailor-made. One with no tragedy at the end.”

He wanted to help you make your wedding dress. You mourned the death of your curly-headed brother, you weeped and wailed as you watched his body fall off the rails, onto the cursed frog brothers.

You couldn’t reply to Dwayne, only stopping him when he tried to leave your side to band with his mourning brothers for revenge.

“I don’t want to lose you.” You whimpered, your eyes pleaded for him to stay, that’s why he didn’t look at you. “I don’t want to lose another tonight.” Your sentence left you with a whisper, holding Dwayne’s ring-clad hand tighter.

Dwayne stayed quiet, his head fighting a battle with his feelings, your desperation made him want to stay, to comfort you, to show that he knew he wasn’t the only one hurting.

In the end, his brothers needed him, and for once he chose something over you. “I’m sorry love, my brothers, our brothers, they need me. I have to go with them.” Dwayne whispered back, his hand travelled to your cheek, his thumb wiping away a rare tear.

“You promised you’d stay with me, our forever, remember?” You were always good at backtalk, he knew he promised that he’d be here for you, like all those years ago when he told you that he was going to be the only person you know, and you, him.

“I can’t.. Marko didn’t deserve that, you know as well as I do—“ Dwayne stopped you from continuing your complaints, fearing he wouldn’t be able to take revenge, and he’d know he’d lose his brothers’ trust and he didn’t want to lose another thing in the same night either.

“How will I know you’ll return to me? What if, you leave me alone?” You spat, your eyes starting to water, you were a sensitive vampire, feeling instead of feasting.

“I will return to you. When have I ever not?” Dwayne didn’t want to think about the weight of his words, only the fact that this was an unwritten promise to survive his battle with the Emersons to return back to your side.

This was the moment you knew you couldn’t stop Dwayne. As much as it hurt you to let go of his palm, you gently pulled his hand away from your cheek, a silent look in your eyes told him to stay safe, and to come back to you.

Dwayne didn’t say anything else, walking off to join his brothers’ on their path to revenge.

“You’re a huge liar, you know that?” You mumbled, holding a ripped piece of leather in your hands, the tips of your fingers remembering every texture it could feel of the fabric.

You were alone, the huge cave was yours, bitterly so. They didn’t return, none of them, not David, not Paul, especially not Dwayne, your Dwayne.

You knew they had gotten themselves killed, it took a while to realize that Dwayne probably knew he wouldn’t return to you either. His words were an empty promise, so that you would feel at ease.

And you hate that it did ease you, for a while anyway.

Star was the one that confirmed that your lover left you. She picked up the scraps, the remains of what she could of your boyfriend, returning it to you with a guilty pain.

Star never resented you, she was..somewhat happy you didn’t come with the boys. When Star was first initiated, you were there to help her get past the scary realization that she was going to be immortal and alone.

Star remembered how you held her with the warmth of the sunlight, she asked herself how you could be so kind, being a monster of the night. You merely joined your lover to the end, and it was painfully clear that you hadn’t had a mission in mind, other than seeing Dwayne through it all, forever.

So, in a poor attempt to give her thanks, and her apology, she returned what she could of Dwayne to you. Hugging you only when you seemed to lose every strength in your legs as your hands cradled the pieces of Dwayne’s favourite jacket.

“What happened?” You whispered, your tears forever flowing from your eyes, “his jacket’s all ruined?— this was his favourite, how— I—“ your lips couldn’t form a sentence when your mind had dawned on the fact that Dwayne was dead and that your forever had ended.

Star only hugged you tightly as you screamed and weeped into her chest. She wished she could’ve done more.

You looked around the empty cave, only memories remained inside, the fountain, the little trinkets Paul collected, the books Dwayne accumulated, the fabrics Marko had stolen, the cigarette butts David threw away. You wish you could say everything was here but it wasn’t, the boys weren’t here.

You had long packed your stuff, a duffel bag full of clothes you could bring, all from various piles of whatever you could find from the boys, mostly Dwayne’s and clothing you’ve bought.

There was nothing left in the cave for you, the one reason to stay wasn’t there anymore. You gathered the last of your things as Star waited outside, waiting to help you travel through the night to wherever you wanted to go.

You knew you should hate Star, for sealing the boys’ fate, when she had snitched to the Emersons of their vampirism. There wasn’t much options though, you had to stop your pity party, you had to leave, and only Star knew how to help you. You were the only vampire in Santa Carla now, and she knew.

You gave yourself one last tour of the cave, peeking into the personal alcoves the boys had given themselves, reminiscing, getting ready to let go. They weren’t human, but they made the cave feel like home, it made you think that maybe they didn’t lose their humanity after all.

Finally, you stopped at your shared alcove with Dwayne, the ground littered with books he read with you, the wilted flowers he stole off of a couple for you, the candle lit bed was unmade, from the last time it was used. You didn’t have the heart to fix anything up.

It felt like if you fixed it up, you’d finally be erasing the fact that the boys were ever here, and how could you do that to Dwayne?

One last sweep of the room, your hand gently swiped the bed on the cave floor, before reluctantly pulling away. “You ready?” You jumped at the sudden voice, seeing Star at the entrance of the cave, looking at you.

Her hands fiddled with themselves, obviously uncomfortable being back at the cave. You nodded, holding your duffel bag tight to your figure before walking off with Star, every step felt dreadful, getting closer and closer to beyond forever and leaving everything you know behind.

Although, something makes you feel like Dwayne would be glad, that you’re not moping, that you’re not angry he hadn’t fulfilled his promise of forever, his dear beloved delicate.

I don't wanna get older,

Without your head on my shoulder.

On the day that you leave me,

I'll forever be bleeding, love.

As forever comes closer,

Hope the world will spin slower,

I don't wanna get older.

- older, 5 seconds of summer, ft. sierra deaton.

[neomujinjja]

Bite Me

Pairing: Vampire! Jay x Human! reader

Length: 1.43k words Genre: imagine, drama

Warnings: not edited, mentioning wanting to cry, feeling nervous, slight angst, mini argument, use of the words: hissing & snarled, insecure (or is he?) jay, the phrase 'kicked puppy', regret is brought up a lot, mention of killing people, jay's pov at the end, some long paragraphs (especially in jay's pov)

Synopsis: Your relationship with Jay has developed further, and you're sure that he's the one you want to be with for the rest of your life. Speaking of your life, you tell your vampire boyfriend to change you.

Note: This is continuation of 'Still a Monster' but this will still make a sense alone. I use underline italics for sarcasm and underline for emphasis. I wasn't expecting this ending, but the story had a mind of its own and we ended up here 😂

@kim2005bomi

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"This was such a lovely dinner" you tell your boyfriend as he gathers up the dishes. "Thank you, Jay" you say as you gently pull him down for a kiss.

"Anything for you, baby" Jay said as the two of you separated. Today was the 5th anniversary of your relationship, still going strong despite Jay's worry that you leave after learning about his vampirism.

"I have one more gift for you". Your eyes sparkling as you thought about the surprise you had for the immortal man. He turned to look at you with his brows furrowed and a slight pout (one that he would deny having if you mentioned it).

"You didn't have to get me anything else. You've already given me a new necklace and watch".

"But I want to". Mummering under your breath, you added "it's more of gift for the both of us".

"What did you say?" Jay asked, looking up from the sink. You only smiled and shook your head in return. Taking his hands, you led the male towards the couch; similar to when you learned about his secret. Your heart was beating was fast as you grew more nervous and you were sure Jay could hear it. The vampire tighten his grip on your intertwined hands, as if to confirm that thought, before leaning in to peck your lips once again. Taking a deep breath, you decided to plainly tell him how you felt and your thought process.

"Jay," you stopped looking into his eyes and the love that you found in his made you want to burst into tears. "You're the love of my life and I want to have a forever with you. And I trust you so much which is why I want you to change me" you told him, trying to maintain eye contact but ultimately looking down to you conjoined hands. You were hoping that he felt the same way, that he wanted a forever with you the way that you did with him. Jay cleared his throat and pulled his hands away from yours. It was enough to make your desire to cry grow stronger.

"And what?! Turn you into a monster like I am?!" he hissed as he got up. "No way. There's no way I would willingly do that to you" Jay adamantly continued. He walked away, back into his kitchen and stood at his sink.

"Jay!" you cried out at his words. While you knew he was struggling with the things done in his past, you didn't think that he still saw himself as a monster. "I don't think of you that way, and I know you don't think of the rest of the boys like that" you said, walking up to him and pointing your finger into his chest. Jay snarled at the action and his fangs glimmered at you in warning. "And I know you wouldn't let me do something that I'll come to regret. So other than 𝑚̲𝑜̲𝑛̲𝑠̲𝑡̲𝑒̲𝑟̲ reasoning, what are you scared about?" you argued back, not backing down from the male, glaring into his eyes now opposite of earlier this evening. You weren't scared of Jay, he was only acting tough and trying to get you to drop the subject, he wouldn't actually hurt you.

"And that's why I'm not going to change you!" the male snapped but despite his demeanor, and proving your point, took a step back to create distance. You rolled your eyes in response as you put your hands onto your hips.

"What part of you being the love of my life, did you not hear?!"

"But that's only for now! What happens when you change your mind?" he screamed and it clicked for you why he was against the decision. He was scared, scared of being abandoned, scared of you leaving him.

"Jay, my love, did I leave when you told me a vampire?" you asked him, stopping to wait for his answer. The vampiric male only shook his head, not verbally responding to you. Jay's demeanor had changed dramatically, no longer acting aggressive. If it wasn't for the situation, you would liken him to a kicked puppy. "I've continued to stay by your side in these past five years. And I would hope that you're not, but hearing you say that makes me wonder if you're doubting the love I have for you" you continued before pausing. Turning away from the male, you let out a shaky sigh. "But either way, I wouldn't want to force you into something that you don't want to do". You walked away from Jay, heading towards the bathroom. You didn't want to leave him alone, for fear that you'd be confirming his fears, but you need a moment alone.

ꨄ︎

Jay crouched as he heard a door close, he wasn't sure where Y/N had gone. He leaned his forehead onto the cabinets, scrunching up his hands into fists. Jay banged his head on the door as the sound of muffled crying emerged from somewhere in the apartment. He hated when Y/N would cried, e̲s̲p̲e̲c̲i̲a̲l̲l̲y̲ n̲o̲w̲ when he was the reason behind it. The vampiric male understood Y/N's why, he wanted the same thing. Jay would love to have Y/N by his side for eternity, but this popped up from nowhere. He didn't want his partner to do something that they could come to regret. Jay stood up, abandoning the spot to find the room Y/N was in. Stopping at where the cries resonated from, he knocked at the bathroom door. "Babe, come out when you're ready to talk?" he told the other before walking off again. Jay sat in the couch, after the heated discussion, he wanted to give Y/N space.

ಇ

Jay turned his head around as the door screeched open. Y/N sniffled as they walked into the living room. He stood up but hesitated pulling them in a hug, despite his want to give comfort. Jay watched as they sat in the arm chair to the side, effectively creating some distance between the two of them. Y/N looked downcast, their head and shoulder curled into their chest. The human's hands gripping their elbows hidden in the jacket they were wearing. "Baby.." Jay trailed off as he stared at them, still standing in the same spot he'd froze in. The vampire cleared his throat before continuing and slowly settling onto his previous seat. "Baby, I just don't want you to regret anything. Changing means leaving a lot more behind than anything that you could gain in the immortal future. It means leaving your family, friends, the place you live; basically everything and everyone you know. I don't want for you to look at me with hatred for having changed you in 100 years" he explained to his partner. While Jay's dead heart had fluttered at the thought of Y/N being a vampire with him; he knew they didn't know everything they would be getting into. Jay stills feels guilt from killing innocent people, but he also hated watching his family age and grow from afar. It was torture, one he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy let alone his lover. "You would never be able to return to the life that you have now. Your family would mourn you with a funeral, the people who care about you will cry over your death. You'd outgrow not only your parents, but your siblings and their children. You'd never get to see them up close again; who knows if you'd ever get to see them the way you know them again. Changing you means changing every aspect of your life" Jay pointed out further to the downtrodden Y/N. They had looked up from their lap, Jay could now see how red rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. They let out a whimper at the immortal's words. It was obvious they hadn't realized exactly the full extent they would be giving up in exchange for eternal life. Jay held out his hand in comfort, leaning towards the other's direction, he was surprised by the hand that overlapped his. He squeezed it as much as he possibly could without hurting Y/N. "But i̲f̲ in a year, you still want to be with me like that. Then we can talk about me biting you more, but for now think about it" the vampire let the human know. Jay knew he couldn't ignore Y/N's wishes and words either. So if they really wanted to become a vampire to continue being with him then he'd make that possible, but only after a fully informed decision.

[aseaofyoongi]

caught in waves | ksj

kim seokjin x reader (f)

genre: chef & bmx ksj | strangers to lovers | fluff | smut

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: after graduating culinary school you are fired from your very first job as a sous chef — so you move to a small town for the summer only to meet the very cute nephew of the restaurant and airbnb owner.

warnings: not another smut au; strangers to lovers; thoughts of self doubt; brief mention of death beginning with the line “sleeping forever would mean.” to the end of that paragraph; parental death (jin’s unnamed mother); foul language; public sex (twice - cause wtf is a bed); clitorial stimulation; vaginal fingering; tongue fucking; six nine (m./f. receiving); face riding; penetrative sex; unprotected sex, wrap it up my brothas and sistas; creampie; riding (cowgirl); brief orgasm denial if you squint; did not proof read so sorry for any errors now; that was a mouth full but i think thats it lol

word count: 13.1 thousand words

posted: june 25, 2023 at 9am

notable songs: tangerine - anthony watts and anthony russo | otro atardecer - bad bunny | summer love - crush | seaside - seb 🎧

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The bus was nearly empty. 

Just you and two strangers with two remaining stops on the lined route. From your place at the back of the vehicle life seemed to have stopped and you were sort of trapped in the legato vibrato of the RnB beats playing in your ears. But you were here alone with rows of vacant seats ahead of you — while your eyes aimed at the everlasting fields of green pasture filled with an abundance of trees. The vermilion leaves swayed to the rhythm of the wind as the cool draft swept by gently. 

And while you sat inside the muggy bus you couldn’t help but feel like those leaves who have lost their way from home. The ones who we ripped away from their branches and were on an aimless journey only to end up on the ground. All but forgotten and only to be stepped on and torn to shred in the process. 

That was you. In a stump, torn and forgotten. 

You didn’t always hold that ideal synonymous with your name but the sparse roots in the. . circumstances of life were less than perfect and while you tried to drive down the highway of your early twenties on a steady road there were just numerous obstacles hurdled in your path. Some of which affected your life greatly and derailed you from what you believed to be intended and bestowed upon you. 

Back then, you were twenty-one just fresh off culinary school with zealous ambitions and a hunger for success that gnawed at you eagerly. You had a drive ignited in you like an overbearing fire incapable of being put out. Today, that fire lacked its fuel and there were just clouds of smoke left behind while the ashes of the once burning wood were scattered around. 

Everything in your life has gone to shit. 

In just the matter of months everything has gone to absolute shit. 

You couldn’t hear much, so you weren’t alerted to the mechanical voice triggered by the yellow pull cord. You weren’t quite sure if it was due to the music blanketing your hearing or if your sense had gone completely haywire but you couldn’t hear it. Not at all. Your eyes however could see the rectangular screen displaying the ‘stop now’ bold red letters at the front of the bus and as soon as the doors opened. The doors of the bus door opened and closed and quickly the two other passengers on the bus hopped off leaving you entirely alone. This precise moment; these surroundings, took you right back to the big city and its maze-like roads. It sent you right back to the exact time when you felt like this, entirely desolate and empty in all the worst ways possible. 

You hated it. It was suffocating and you could feel the way your airways began to constrict. You didn’t like that feeling — being alone. Yet, it always crept up on you like a lingering shadow. 

It was always fucking there. 

It wasn’t always that way. Before your sporadic travels to the isolated roads adorned by thousands of skyscrapers — back at home things were different: you had a loving family, and you were wrapped up in the warm embrace of your parents and siblings. A hug so tight sometimes you could still feel their phantom body heat warming up your skin. Their touch was your medicine and with their clutch you were cradled right into a cure for wellness. 

While you craved the warm nature of their love. You couldn’t head back home. Not after descending so harshly from the disappointment of your crushed dreams. You had pierced through earth’s stratosphere and crashed your metaphorical ship right in the middle of nowhere. 

You were astray. Off-course. Adrift. 

You couldn’t head back home. 

It’s only been six months since you left home. 

Just half a year. And everything went to shit. 

Though you knew your parents weren’t usually the type to be painted with looks of disappointment — you knew that right below disappointment sat a worse expression, one you weren’t quite ready to experience just yet: commiseration. The awful and dreadful imbue of pity. 

Their youngest had failed. Miserably. You could already see their torn expressions dashed in the horrid tones of black and white, maybe even a bit of gray. It was bad enough in the flashes of your imagination. 

God, no. You couldn’t head back home. 

Instead you ran as far away from home as you could and headed towards a small town. It was nearly invisible on the map unless under the stern squinting of the eye. But you figured a scenic change would likely bring forth a change of spirits. Perhaps, being enveloped in the vibration of the soft melody coming from the crashing of the oceans waves and the aroma of the tide in this new town could become your new remedy for the soul. 

As you neared the houses toned with aquamarine, salmon pink, and citrus yellow wood sidings the bus began braking softly nearing its final stop. 

“This is the end of the road young lady,” the bus driver announced as you peeled your headphones off, placing them around your neck. 

“Yes. Sorry,” you quickly stood up, clinging your backpack onto your back and hurdling the duffel bag over your right shoulder causing one of the straps to snap. Great. You sighed, “thank you so much.” 

“No need to apologize,” he waved off as soon as you stepped off onto the asphalt, “enjoy your stay.” 

Using the navigation on your phone turned out to be much more complicated than you’d originally thought it would be. There were countless seafood shops and though the repetition of the color on the houses was initially very appealing to the eyes you quickly realized how much harder it made it to differentiate and determine your precise location. 

Okay, currently, you stopped in front of the ice cream shop. To the right there was the souvenir store, the convenience store and the flower shop, along with dozens of other stores scattered all around — all of them sat parallel  to the boardwalk right near the beach shore right across the street. 

Kim’s Aboard. You hummed looking down at the opened up map. The blue dot was highlighted. . Still. So you were at your destination according to this, except, you were not. This was way harder than navigating your way through the big city for the first time all of those months prior. Who would’ve thought small towns would be the cherry right on top of your greatest failures. Just what you needed. What the fuck. 

Sitting on the curb you felt defeated. Feeling as if life had taken control of your life while  you were the punching bag just waiting for another jab. 

“Fuck this,” you shrugged off the duffel bag, sinking your head into your lap, “fuck life. Fuck it all.” 

Minutes passed on but you remained. There. On that lonely sidewalk. Not empty but again lonely. Fuck, you didn’t care okay? You were well past the point of feeling fazed, moving through life but not living, finally succumbing to the presumed complications of your days — officially, having given up mentally and physically through and through. 

You simply did not care. Nope. 

You didn’t. . 

Then, you felt a single droplet land on your skin. From overhead the sky was being consumed by the gloomy darkness, and soon enough you knew the clouds would begin their torrential weeping. Very soon. 

Okay. Maybe you did care after all. 

“I get it,” you hissed up at the heavens, “I am damned. Doomed. Cursed. I get it.”

You probably looked mad. Well, more on the edge of insane. Whatever, it was. It likely did not look good at all. 

“Uh,” he approached you in paced steps but the squeaking of his black finishing boots gave him away. Initially, your eyes were averted to the leaden clouds, but quickly, your eyes met him as he kneeled right beside you. The simplicity of his appearance (composed of dark denim washed overalls and absolutely nothing under — but the radiance of his honeyed complexion) drew you nearer to him. “Are you doing okay, miss?” 

His voice was sweeter than the composition of ballads and while the crashing of the ocean waves against the shore constituted its very own euphonious sonnet, in the shortness of six words listening to him was already so much better — so pleasing. 

“I-uh,” surely you remember how to talk. . Right? “I was just looking for the apartment I’ll be staying at for the next few days but I’m a bit lost.” 

“Here,” he sat beside you and his shoulder brushed yours continuously. It was distracting. Very distracting, “The trick is the town is circular shaped. Sort of like a big round about. There’s one road throughout and if you follow it through, you’ll see everything you need to see.” 

You hummed, signaling you understood his breakdown in small towns for dummies, “So, are all of the stores on this main road?” 

“Most,” he said, adjusting his blue cap now having it face backwards. His toned bicep flexed slightly when he reached up, “but there are some down the road. What store are you trying to find?” 

When you turned towards him you swore there was a glimmer of light shining down on him like a spotlight — except, that was impossible. The day was now gloomy robbing the sun of its usual glimmer. But, you weren’t crazy. You’re living it, clearly experiencing the way his radiant glow nearly blinds you. 

You were clearly gawking at him. Too immersed in the perfection outlined in his features. The richness of his dark chocolate eyes seemed as sweet as a candy bar, his full lips and the apples of his cheeks carried the same elements of the carmine mimicking the vibrancy of roses. 

You cleared your throat forcing yourself to finally rip your stare away from him, “Kim’s Abroad,” you began, “seafood store and restaurant combo but also Airbnb adjacent.” 

He chuckled, again a sound so light and airy it traveled in your inner ear like the whistles of a peaceful tune, “Kim, huh?” 

You opened the Airbnb app, moving the phone over for him to get a better look, “Yeah, Kim is what it says,” you confirmed, 

“Yeah, it does,” he looked at your phone screen, “but you’re in the wrong place.” 

“I’m in the wrong town?” 

His lips were still sculpted into a smile. Was your demise an amusement to him? You were almost offended but dimples were just so mesmerizing as they impaled his bread cheeks and you found some ease in them. Momentarily. But the man sitting beside didn’t go back on his word and suddenly there was no denying the rising panic bubbling deep in your stomach. There was no question that your luck has always been absolute shit but you never imagined it could extend this far. It never occurred to you that something like this could happen. 

You laughed and you weren’t sure if you actually found the situation amusing or if it was only a coping mechanism. Who knows perhaps you misheard what he said — Yeah, you probably. . Definitely, did, “please tell me you’re fucking with me. .” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking with you,” he smirked. The curves of his stretched lips now synonymous with the equivalent of a warm embrace yet the playfulness of a jest, “I’m Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Kim’s Abroad is my uncle’s shop.” 

“Oh,” you finally exhaled, releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in the first place, “you got me good.” 

“Did I scare you?” He stood from the sidewalk and dusted off the bits of sand and gravel from his bottom. 

“Did you scare me?” you huffed, “you damn near killed me.” 

“Well, technically, you are in the wrong place,” he stretched his hand out for you to grab and you did. 

“Don’t even start,” you scoffed playfully. 

“But—“ he cut in, “you’re just on the wrong part of town. Come on. Before it actually starts raining.” 

“You have a car?” 

He shrugged, “something like that.” 

Seokjin did not have a car. You’d digested the grim realization when you two of you walked to the nearby parking lot and instead of approaching the valet he walked the opposite way in the direction of the bicycle rack. 

The bike chained to the rack was blue. . a sapphire which mimicked the color of the ocean waves. It also looked pretty new and like a very competent mode of transportation as everything in this town seemed just a walk or quick ride away. 

 “Hope you don’t mind but I’m not much of a car person,” he emphasized the word car highlighting the stance of his words. And you couldn’t help but wonder why it was — that he wasn’t much of a car person — but you didn’t ask, shoving the plethora of questions right back down your esophagus determining you didn’t need to know. You didn’t know him. . Besides, he was practically your landlord. 

“Of course,” you smiled, tightening the straps on your bag to get it to sit higher on your back, “should I put this here?” you slid your duffel bag off and pointed at the red wagon attached to the bike. 

“Let me help,” Seokjin was toned and built as fuck. You had not really noticed when he approached you ten minutes prior, but now? Now, he was kneeling right in front of you using a variation of ropes to secure your bag in the wooden attachment. And while you hadn’t meant to stare you couldn’t resist the urge to drink in every detail of his every move. 

It was truly like observing an artwork in some museum. . except you had to keep reminding yourself that he was real — This was real. His muscles flexed whenever he tugged on the rope to verify its tightness and his fingers worked diligently to produce an effective knot. His long long fingers. 

Your mind couldn’t help but wonder which other activities he indulged in containing those slender digits of his. 

No. 

No. 

Focus on yourself; focus on your own journey. You shook your head in an attempt to push those beguiling thoughts aside. 

“Ready?” he asked, straddling the bike and signaling you to hop on the pegs. You simply nodded hoping on, placing your palms on his broad shoulders for support. The contact felt as if his skin had been ignited with tiny strings of fire — kind of like you hovering your palms over a burner on the stove. 

It was distracting; the way the heat particles traveled past the layers of your skin warming you to the touch. 

It was so fucking distracting the way your touch felt at ease against him. 

“This is a very small town but we have a lot to offer,” Seokjin peddled down the street — already sounding mildly out of breath having to carry both your weights. 

Your eyes settled on your surroundings; the road ahead, “I can see that. We have the beach on our left and a cozy vintage town to our right. Believe me, it is all I truly need at this very moment.” 

“What are you trying to escape from reality?” 

“More like—“ as the bike moved deeper into town and against the late afternoon wind you felt a wave of relief in your sweaty scalp and forehead, “I’m trying to get away from it forever.”

He chuckled, “forever’s a long time.” 

“Forever is categorized differently for each person,” you shrugged, “my forever could end tomorrow whereas yours could run its course for an abundance of years.”

“I suppose you’re right. .” he said, “but tomorrow is also forever away.” 

“Tomorrow is forever away.” you repeated. 

Within the cold avenues of the buzzling city tomorrow would be a blink away — sparing all extra hours, minutes and seconds right into oblivion. Tomorrow would arrive in the blink of an eye and twenty four hours would perish right into nothing. However, this town seemed different. An hour here has felt like a wrinkle in time and you were comfortably tucked under that luxury of time. 

Sparing time to stop and take everything in and time to breathe. You were spared all of the time in the world to breathe. Finally. 

Back in the city your life had been sort of a blur. The foundation of your days were composed of half assed obligations. Such as getting up to the boisterous roars of the city (which you hated), getting dressed in clothes you hated all to keep up appearances (which you hated), attending classes in an attempt to perfect your culinary skills (which you hated) and then finally going to work at that fucking restaurant until the late hours of the evening (which you guessed it — you fucking hated). There was nothing to look back on and long for and certainly nothing that you missed as everything you ever dedicated a spec of your time and energy to never truly made you happy. 

There was always a vast hole in your heart. It was huge and it only ever grew in width and no efforts ever minimized its size. The pain was great and all you could ever do was endure. 

The ride so far had been quiet and you found peace in that. It gave you a bit of time to swim in your own thoughts for a bit — something you haven’t done in quite some time. Perhaps, substituting the rustling tracks of the subway and the constant beeping of car horns for the songs of the sea would do you some good. It already kind of was. 

“You doing okay up there?” he asked, continuing to peddle his way down the black paved road. 

“I’m doing okay,” you reassured him. 

“I figured you’d just been taking everything in,” he said, “you’ve been a bit quiet.”  

“Yeah, I’m definitely admiring and loving the scarcity of skyscrapers. I like the build of the ranch-style homes. It gives the curb appeal sort of like a homey feel,” your eyes remain glued to your surroundings. While Seokjin was a sight on his own this town — you were beginning to fall in love with. 

“I agree. It’s the primary reason why I’ve yet to leave,” he parked his bike on the bike rack right in front of the two-story building. The sign read, ‘Kim’s Abroad’ in big red letters engraved in a baby blue outline against the white exterior. “We have arrived.” 

“Seafood restaurant and market,” you mumbled reading the tiny black font displayed right below the vibrant sign. 

“All things seafood restaurant and market,” he repeated, getting a hold of your luggage from his wagon, “we are connoisseurs. Don’t you forget that.” 

You giggled, “Kim Seokjin the seafood connoisseur. Noted.” 

Kim’s Abroad sat on the other side of town. Just a couple of steps away from the blue waves of the ocean crashing against the golden shores. Approximately, a ten minute bike ride away from the main pier. This side of town seemed like a hidden gem, like a slice of privacy for the locals. Though the sidewalks remained occupied with on-goers, it wasn’t as congested or loud as where you began your journey earlier that afternoon. 

Up above the weather seemed to settle down as the nimbostratus clouds were being swept away by lighter; fluffier; whiter clouds highlighting the cerulean hue of the late summer afternoon. The sun also seeped through and already your skin prickled with the rising heat. 

“Let me help with that,” you reached out to grab your backpack. 

“Help?” his eyes wide with shock, “you’re our first guest to offer assistance with their own luggage. I like you.” 

“I’ll wear the stamp of approval proudly.” 

Walking into the restaurant was like entering the multiverse of culinary delicacy. The aroma of the various seafood dishes had your stomach grumbling as hunger began its loud roar. The set-up didn’t allow much space for dining in which explained the small tables and chairs lined up outside. Seokjin walked right up to the counter with a sign right above the register which read, order here. To the right of that there was a display with numerous varieties of fish, shrimp, clams, oysters, lobsters with small chalkboards identifying the prices per pound. 

The interior design of the small shop was fairly simple yet very charming. There were wall decor items hung on the white walls in the shape of different sea creatures and fishing nets drapped from the ceiling. 

Seokjin signaled you over to join him by the register, which you did. 

“Our summer neighbor has finally joined us. She’ll be staying for the summer.” he turned towards you. Quickly, you nodded confirming. 

“Hi, I’m Seokjin’s uncle, Gong. Nice to meet you,” he stretched his hand out over the counter which you quickly shook. Gong wore a tender eye smile and pearly white teeth that glimmered under the sneaky rays of the sun invading the shop. You introduced yourself hoping to reciprocate the same amiability. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you added, “I’m really looking forward to spending the summer.” 

“We’re glad to have you give our little town a chance,” he said softly, “Seokjin, why don’t you show her where she’ll be staying. Then, you can come down and grab some food for the two of you.” 

The residential area was deeper into the property. Just a couple of feet behind, Kim’s Abroad. You’d notice there was a continuation of the color white — it was neutral. But also made the small living space seem a bit bland. Colorless walls encaged a small kitchen which led right into the living room. There were two medium sized oval windows facing the ocean. A view you knew you’d spend a lot of time admiring and never getting tired of. 

Seokjin signaled over to the wooden door separating the bedroom from the living space. The bedroom was huge compared to your dorm back in University, and it was accompanied by an on suite bathroom. 

Thank God. 

If there was something you hated while in school it was the fucking communal bathrooms. The working around schedules to avoid the crowded showers, having to do your. . . Well having to take a shit (practically in public) was less than ideal and having to share bathrooms amongst ten other girls was not the most hygienic living situation you’ve had to live through.  

After dropping your bags near the bedroom door you plopped down on the full sized bed. You closed your eyes as tiredness weighed heavy on your eyelids. 

With the fluffiness of the mattress carrying your body, you sensed the way every bone, every muscle and every inch of you became cumbersome against your better judgment.  Though you tried and tried to sit up you couldn’t. It was so fucking impossible. . As if there was a ton sitting on your abdomen preventing you from doing anything. 

You were exhausted. Numb to your surroundings and your thoughts. You had honestly forgotten Seokjin was still in the room with you — that was until you felt the mattress dip right beside you. His body heat radiated off of him in waves and the warm sensation comforted you closer to a deep slumber. 

“Are you still up to eating or are you too tired?” Seokjin mumbled. His voice, so soft and poise almost as if he was afraid to blow your tympanum. 

Your eyes still remained closed. Behind them there was an invasive darkness — much darker than the night sky but there was also peace and all you wanted to do was to succumb to that very feeling. 

It kept you high and you felt light as a feather. You had never engaged in drug usage but you imagined this is what it felt like to be intoxicated. 

“I’m hungry but I’m also so tired,” you yawned almost instinctively, “I just want to sleep forever and ever.” 

“Sleeping forever would mean. . Well, you know. .” You know what he implied and though, that’s not initially what you meant you wouldn’t mind that either. Sleeping forever was peaceful and would spare you the burden of figuring out whatever the fuck your life has turned into. Imagine falling into a deep slumber and roaming over into the afterlife peacefully; serenely. Or maybe not. There were a million thoughts etched onto your brain and while you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn’t. You didn’t mind it but there was also a tug at your heart just urging to allow yourself to see things through. 

“I just meant. .” you paused, “I just meant I’m really really tired.”

“I know. .” he stood from where he sat on the bed and your eyes met him by the door. “Are you still down to get food though?” 

“Have you heard my stomach?” His smile was contagious as you'd quickly learned as a smile was painted on your lips as soon as his lips carved into a bright beam almost as illuminating as the golden star prancing in the late afternoon sky, “I think hunger trumps sleep at this moment.” 

That was a fib. But you didn’t really feel like being left alone with your thoughts at the moment — they were loud, overwhelming and deprecating.  To be honest you’d been lonely for way too long and you hated basking in the solitude of your own company. It’s not what you wanted or what you needed. 

Perhaps, tomorrow will be kinder. 

The sun was less brutal now. 

Likely, because the sun was en route to kiss the ocean as it continued to move closer and closer towards the horizon. The blazing star still had quite a journey ahead but it no longer sat in the middle of the sky shining down with its stinging rays. 

Late afternoons were always your favorite part of the day. Back in the city the congestion of buildings on every street wouldn’t allow for this kind of life; for a scenery like this — and again you began to feel at ease in your heart. You love it. The loud cackling of the neighborhood kids, the sound of skateboards, skates and bikes against the pavement, the smells of backyard barbecues and the briny waters just ahead, which was technically your front yard for the summertime. 

Back in the metropolis you’d learn to suffer through each passing day. Falling into the safety nets of routines and hoping for a better tomorrow.  

There was never fulfillment or satisfaction, just emptiness. A profound and very overbearing emptiness that swallowed you from the inside right into a dark pit of nothingness. 

“I hope you’re not vegan or anything,” Seokjin took a seat right beside you on the ledge of the building, your legs dangling from the edge, “otherwise we’d have to head back into town for some more dining options.” 

“I’m not vegan,” you confirmed. 

“Good, cause uncle Gong made us some crab cakes. He swears they’re his specialty but it’s my recipe,” he beamed. 

“Bullshit. .” I raised my eyebrow at his claim. 

“I’m serious!” he took a bite of the fritter, “well actually it was my mom’s but she taught me how to make it.” 

Was. Past tense. Did he realize he’d refer to his mother’s existence in such a way? He must’ve. Then, that would mean she’s no longer here. . No longer in Seokjin’s life. Did she abandon him or did she pass away? There were a million questions roaming around in your head but again you didn’t dare ask. 

Though, it was hard to imagine him caged in the torment of sorrow. Sure, everyone experiences it sooner or later but it just didn’t seem like him. You’d met him just a couple hours prior and you could already tell Seokjin was a bright soul. With a tender gaze that wrapped you up like a warm blanket and a smile that could ease any burden or pain even in the absence of words.

Already, you’d felt closer to him than anyone you had crossed paths back in the despondent sidewalks of the city. 

Seokjin is a friend. He is your friend. 

“Well, her recipe is amazing,” you utter in between bites, “so thank you for passing it on to your uncle to make.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiled. 

A brief silence fell between the two as you finished your meal but you didn’t mind the lack of words. It was just the two of you, the lullaby of the waves, and the orange and pink hues set the sky ablaze as the sun continued its journey sinking deeper into the horizon.

Life here seemed to come right out of a painting — sort of like those you would see hung on the wall of an art exhibit and be completely divulged into, finding shelter behind the intricate lines and vibrant colors. 

“Where are those kids headed?” you asked, nodding towards the kids speeding down the street in skates and skateboards. 

“There’s a skatepark down the street,” he said, “I ride my bike there all the time whenever I wanna run away from kitchen duty.” 

“Kitchen duty?” you tittered. 

“You think I’m bullshitin’ again don’t you?” 

“You said it, not me.” 

He shook his head, laughing quietly at your playful banter, “do I not seem like a chef who also happens to be into bmx?” 

“I’d have to see you partake in both of those activities to believe it,” you shrugged. 

“I’m on prep duty early morning so I’ll get back to you on the cooking thing but we can begin with the skate park tomorrow,” Seokjin offered. 

“Tomorrow it is.” 

Seokjin swung back and forth, he seemed to have something on his mind but his lips remained sealed until finally he spoke, “What about you? Do you have any hobbies?” 

“Yeah,” you picked at the blue chipped nail polish on your nails, “I went to culinary school actually. I was a sous chef back in the city but I was fired.” 

“Oh, shit,” Seokjin’s eyes were the size of pool balls, “Led me right into the lion’s den. Didn’t you? Now, I can’t cook for you. You’d put me on the chopping block.” 

“I promise I won’t,” you clasped your hands together, “Contrary to what you might believe, cooking is not my passion.” 

“Parents?” he didn’t need to elaborate, you understood perfectly. 

“Kind of. .” You moved your head from side to side, “They didn’t really influence my decision but my dad’s a chef and I thought I needed to be just like him.” 

“And you learned you didn’t?” 

“Exactly,” you nodded. 

“So what’s your true passion?” 

“Art. I’ve always wanted to illustrate books,” you turned away sensing you’d peel too much back. Perhaps, you have. Perhaps, not but no one had ever asked you that before. No one has ever shown even the slightest interest in learning what fills your heart with joy and consumes your days with a sense of accomplishment, “it was my minor in college.” 

“You should go for it.” 

“You don’t even know if I’m good..” 

“I don’t need to,” he tilted his head in your direction, he was glowing — truly the textbook definition of beauty, “I can see the way your eyes twinkle at the mere mention of it. You should do what makes you happy.” 

“What makes you happy?” 

“This place.” His words weren’t elaborate yet somehow you kind of understood exactly what he meant. 

“What makes you stay?” 

“That’s what keeps me here,” he nodded signaling out to something in front of him but you couldn’t really decipher what he was pinpointing. 

Finally, your thoughts settled, “the people?” 

“The tide,” his chestnut eyes remained on the scenery laid out in front of the two of you. Then he continued, “it’s always serene; peaceful. And even in the havoc of storms the ocean manages to sing a tune that fills me with comfort. It calms me down.” 

“The tide.” You mumbled in solidarity with his words. Because it was true. The ocean was a music box kept open and the more you sat and listened the more at ease you felt. 

As if you were meant to be here, like you belonged here, right where you were. 

Remnants of the night before flashed in your mind and you remember Seokjin’s sweet words as he communicated that the roof was your official hideout as it was closed off to the public and uncle Gong despised climbing anymore stairs than he had to — a place where only the two of you could escape to and just get to know each other for hours and hours. You really liked the sound of that. 

You yawned, rubbing sleep off of your lids and walking into the bathroom to carry out your morning routine. Soon, you moved over to the kitchen preparing yourself a quick breakfast composed of eggs and toasts. After your rooftop adventure Seokjin had accompanied you back into the main part of town to grab a few groceries at the mini super market. Thank God for that. 

Time was now nearing the late afternoon and after throwing on a pair or shorts and a crop top you were flying out the front door, down the stairs and towards Kim’s Abroad. Seokjin said he had the early shift today. It was too early in the day for customers but he was helping with prep before the restaurant opened in about 15 minutes for the lunch rush. 

“You ready?” he asked, exiting the shop through the back door and hanging his apron on a hook you couldn’t particularly see. It was astounding how fine Seokjin looked even in the simplest outfits. Like today, he wore denim shorts which cut off mid-thigh, a white tank, black converse and the same backwards blue baseball cap which he tucked his floppy bangs under to keep them away from his face. 

“Ready.” you confirmed following him to the bike rack as he began unlocking his bicycle from the metal bar. 

Again, for the third time since you two met you hopped on the pegs placing your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling off the back of his bike. You looked down at his soft golden skin stretching over his massive shoulders. You hadn’t noticed the day before but Seokjin was well-built. The dark veins stretched up the dorsal side of his hand and forearm as he gripped the handlebars steering the bike down the street. His bicep flexed whenever he pressed on the hand brakes. 

It was distracting. But whenever you tried to take in your surroundings and drink in the beauty of this town you found your gaze focused on him. 

He was the swirls of black and white psychedelic lines inducing you into a state of hypnosis — demanding your attention be set on him and refusing you spare even a second thinking of anything else. 

That gravitational pull you felt drawing you closer to him despite how close in proximity he was terrifying. You barely knew him and already you felt as if you’d known him forever. 

“We’re here,” he said, pulling up to the green metal bench inside of the skate park. Hoping off, you finally peeled your eyes away from Seokjin and looked ahead to the crowded park adorned with ramps, stairs, rails, dips and countless other obstacles.

“What if. .” you began, ogling the kids successfully landing their tricks, amazed by their effortless talent, “what if they get hurt?” 

“They stand up and just try again.” Surely, it couldn’t be that simple. It must hurt. It had to hurt. Your past of disdained misfortune resulted in you landing on the floor, head first, one too many times which hurt like hell. Those were slips and stumbles nothing hard enough to cause any real damage — you really couldn’t imagine busting your ass here on this fucking concrete. 

“Standing back up must hurt so fucking bad though.” 

“It does,” he pointed out the scars adorning his upper and lower extremities — some healed, some not. 

“So you spend a lot of time with these kids huh?” you asked, simply wanting him to open up a bit more; to learn all of the details unique to him. Those details which made Seokjin who he was.

“Sometimes. When I’m not in the shop,” he shrugged, taking a seat right beside you on the bench. His thighs rubbing up against yours, “don’t go judging me for hanging around here on my down time. I’m not the only twenty year old in this skate park.” 

“I wasn’t judging.”

“Your eyes tell.” 

“Are you saying I’m easy to read?” you asked, his eyes shed their usual tone of dark brown under the sun rays now glowing closer to caramel. 

“Right now you are,” you didn’t know if you were daydreaming but his vision continued to circle your features, first back and forth between your eyes and then lower down to your lips. 

“Are you going to show me what you got or are you just going to sit here all afternoon,” your voice barely above a whisper. You were afraid your stupid mind would lead you to do something stupid. 

“Actually. .” he pulled a pair of white and purple skates from the backpack he previously carried on his back, “we’re here for you.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” 

“I know we only met approximately twenty-four hours ago but I have a confession to make,” you cleared your throat and he moved closer towards you, (As if that could even be possible. . He was practically sitting on top of you), wanting to preserve your privacy, “I’m a klutz. I’m clumsy. I am a walking liability.” 

“Now, you’re just making things up.” 

You shook your head, “I’m not making it up.” 

“If that is the case then it’s okay,” he pushed the skates closer in your direction, “I’m here to help.” 

“I just hope you have a first aid kit near.” 

Seokjin reached into his bag showing me a red pouch with a white cross on it. A wide smile plastered on his face. “I’m always ready.” 

“Of course, you are,” you grabbed the skates from his hands, “ but I’m expecting you to catch me if I fall.” 

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll always be here to catch you.” 

In the middle of your chest, where the seat of your soul beat rhythmically on its day to day course, today in that moment, after those two words were uttered from his dulcet lips there was a stutter in your palpitations and for a brief moment you felt a ping at your chest. It hurt so much — but it also reminded you that you were alive. 

Beads of sweat strolled down your temples as you tried to maneuver the roller blades strapped to your feet. Your balmy palms remained clasped against Seokjin's holding on for dear life. Your eyes were glued to the floor but you continued leaning into his guidance, determining that you would get it and you would not stop until you did. 

Seokjin was extremely patient. Even with your frequent squealing and the death grasp you maintain, he remained calm. Slowly guiding you over the small ramps and the mini cylindrical cone shaped obstacle with the flat tops. 

“You got this,” his words of encouragement dozed you with overconfidence and soon you began feeling invisible. As if you could conquer this and anything else thrown your way no matter how big or difficult. 

With his guidance and instructions you continued being led around the skatepark with your knees slightly bent, your upper body leaning towards him for balance and the slowed gliding of the eight wheels against the pavement. 

“You’re doing great,” he wore a gleeful grin.

You didn’t know if his praise was tainting your lack of better judgment but the words escaped your lips before you even realized what you said,  “can I try it by myself?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I forgot your helmet, knee and elbow pads,” he guided you towards the green bench once again, “let’s keep your first lesson simple. Just until we come back with the proper equipment. Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think that was the adrenaline talking.” 

“I hope that means you’ve enjoyed yourself.” 

“Of course, as long as I’m invited I’ll definitely be tagging along more often,” you smiled. 

“You’re always invited.” 

Unlike the betrayal of your tremulous legs and arms while skating Seokjin maneuvered his bike with confidence. He dropped into the bowl without hesitation, then jumped. . levitating in mid air. You were stunned, it was as if he could fly — soaring in the sky like an eagle. He did it again, and again, and again and you cheered him on loudly hoping to reciprocate a fraction of the support he’d expressed as he helped you skate. 

“How did you even manage to do that. . without even breaking a sweat?” you were still stunned as the two of you walked down to the shore after leaving his bike back home after leaving the skatepark. Home. Well, temporary home. 

He shrugged, still a cocky smirk planted on his lips, “I used to practice a lot.” 

“You’ve got to teach me to do all of that.” 

“First, I gotta teach you to not fall off your skates.” 

“Right,” you smiled. 

The two of you walked right beside each other leaving no room for space in between — your hands kept brushing against one another and that friction alone radiated prickles of heat to crawl on your skin. 

“You’ll get it soon,” he leaned towards you, bumping his shoulder into yours, “you’re an amazing student. . So far.” 

“So far?” you gasped, taking fake offense at his meager ‘compliment’. 

“So far,” he nodded, “. . because you also did try to go off riding on your own after one lesson.” 

“I didn’t go off running,” you rolled your eyes, “I asked if I could. Drama queen.” 

“Because I was holding on.” 

You shook your head, “again, drama queen.” 

You and Seokjin walked on the sidewalk parallel to the shore line for quite some time now but he kept babbling about this secret spot he swore was worth it. Without a line of questions or an inch of hesitation you followed along knowing that each adventure promised contained a photo album of memories in your mind to go along with it. Still, you didn’t mind the distance and you didn’t care what the destination looked like as long as the plans involved having Seokjin presence right there with you.  

“This way,” he said, cutting down a small pathway leading towards the beach, “I don’t think your flip flops will cut it though,” 

“We’re not too far from the house. I could go back for some sneakers.” 

“There’s no need for that. We’re practically almost there. Come on,” he crouched down in front of you. Was he really insinuating you’d do what you thought he was? “Hop on.” 

Whoever said Mt. Everest was the highest peak on planet Earth was fucking lying.  Though, you have never found yourself on the mountains’ slope, already, you knew being carried on Seokjin’s back was far more exhilarating than any other journey you could embark up the Himalayas. From his back, the world seemed anew. It was brighter, clearer and scorching too. You weren’t really sure if that was because his height boosted you a bit closer to the sun or if it was because his palm rested on your bare thighs, holding you in place as he ascended down the large rocks. 

Perhaps, this is the kind of freedom he felt while riding his bike at the skatepark, quickly you began to understand why he chose that high. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Except you weren’t. His touch was ardent against your skin and while it felt like you played too close to fire, it was also addicting. All you knew is you wanted to feel that blaze on every inch of your body consuming you into lively flames. 

“We’re almost there.” 

“Hey Seokjin, can I ask you a question?” 

“Whatever you wanna know. I’ll answer,” you wrapped your hands around his neck, resting your elbows on his shoulders. His warm breath fanned your arms causing goosebumps to etch on your skin. For a brief second he rested his head against your forearm before continuing, “but first please call me you gotta start calling me Jin.” 

“Jin,” you mumbled, “it suits you.” 

He chuckled, “you had a question?” 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “back at the skatepark you said you used practiced a lot. . on your bike.” 

“I did.” 

“You’re still referring to it in past tense.” 

“I am.” 

“Why?” you really didn’t want to push too far but you also had a desire to ask and know. 

“BMX, the competitions,” he began, “it’s something I did in the past.” 

You furrowed your brows, “But you still do it. What I mean is you still go to the skatepark.” 

He sighed, where was something weighing on his heart. You could feel it, “Yeah, now it’s just a pastime. Something I hold onto. Just to have some sort of life line between the old me and the present version myself.” 

You and Jin were polar opposites. While he chose to dwell in the past, in the blink of an eye you ditched yours back in the city. Without hesitation you abandoned your sluggish life as a caterpillar lurking through the shadows of skyscrapers — awfully slow and urging a better brighter tomorrow. Metamorphosis indicates that after the cocooning stage the insect should blossom into a beautiful butterfly. You weren’t at that last stage yet but you hoped one day you would be. 

“What was the old you like?” 

He shrugged with sour thoughts tugging the corner of his mouth downward, “I was young. . way too young obviously and naive but I also urged for calmer waters.” 

“Did riding help out?” you asked. 

“It did. It helped quite a lot for a long time,” he mumbled, “. .until it didn’t anymore and now I guess I’m trying to make peace with it.” 

“Is there a particular reason why it ever stopped helping?” You felt his muscles tensed as his slender fingers sunk a bit deeper into your skin. It didn’t hurt but you’d hit something you were trying to avoid, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” his feet finally came in contact with the golden grains of sand but he didn’t make any effort to put you down. No, he only held on tighter, “it just drags along a string of. .” he paused, “memories.” 

“Bad. . memories?” 

“Bad memories,” he confirmed. 

The ocean sang its soulful tune just a couple of feet away as the waves continued their rhythmic crashing on the shore. It was soothing. . peaceful and it eased your nerves against his warm palms. 

“During that time. .”  he began, sighing heavy as the soles of his feet continued sinking into the sand as you trotted further down the beach, “I was wandering around aimlessly—in my head for too long. I lost someone close. Someone who I loved more than I even tolerate myself.” 

“Jin, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” there was a slight tremble in his voice, as if he was trying to get a massive knot down his esophagus, “it happened years ago.” 

“Still, time measures no grief. It must’ve been hard then and it probably still is,” unconsciously, you found yourself laying your head against the back of his neck, “but it is okay to feel, and cry and allow ourselves time to process and make our own peace. We’re only human after all.” 

“I’m still trying to make peace with it everyday but I choose to remember our positive days,” his eyes focused on the footprints he left behind on the sand, “her love, her embrace and tenderness, her charisma. . it was very easy to love her.” 

Her? Her. 

The only woman he’s ever referred to in the past tense was his mother shortly after the two of you met. You wanted to ask and express proper condolences. Not to be nosey but to be there for him and provide a shoulder for him to lean on. Make sure he’s actually okay, although he seems to be dealing with things well you still don’t want to trigger any melancholy memories. 

“The good memories will keep her alive and grounded in your heart,” your hand hovered over the center of his chest. “I’m glad you’re on the road to making peace.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“You should continue riding though,” you murmured, “Despite what happened I’ve seen you soar on your bike. It makes you happy and you should do what makes you happy.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he giggled, “I see what you’re doing.” 

You gasped, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course not,” he laughed. 

“I mean it though.”

“I know,” his hands roamed higher down the avenue of your thighs a bit closer to your bum but not quite. The feeling was sensational—vertiginous and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t read through all of the scenarios blooming in your head. . The ones where his touch doesn’t  just stop mid way up your thighs. No, instead he continues inching higher and higher until. . “Thank you,” 

His words pulled you out of your daydream yet you still felt the despotic heat coursing through your body. Too potent to ignore. 

Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking. A monument right out of a National Geographic magazine cover. The two of you lay in the small cave with an oculus skylight at the top allowing the sun to peek through when it sat high on the cerulean sky along with two archways opened right up to the roaring sea. 

The grains of the golden sand felt therapeutic and warm under your indolent frame. There was a brisk breeze cooling you down, not too cold but just cool enough to dry your previously balmy skin. 

It was a slice of heaven. . right here, right now. 

And Jin, he laid right beside you his body heat radiating in eminent waves. Finally his dark strands on full display no longer hidden under the cap the way it’s been since you met him days prior. His shirt was off displaying his sculpted physique which captivated your attention entirely. 

Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking but so was he. And fuck was it blinding the way he was shining brighter than the amber star overhead. He was ravishing; stunning through and through. 

“Was the trip worth it?” he asked, his dark eyes burning a hole at your side. 

“I barely made as much as a trip, you carried me the entire way here,” you scoffed, “is your back really doing okay?” 

He rolled his eyes, “for the hundredth time my back is doing just fine.” 

“So, let me ask you, was the trip worth it with me on your back the entire time?” your expression was deadpanned.

“Wrong question. .” he smirked. “Did my hands and back find comfort in carrying you the entire way? Yes.” 

His hands on you. Your mind flashed in spurs to that very moment where his warm touch birthed goosebumps on your skin. Quickly, that feeling became looped in your mind and even now, when his hands were no longer on you, you felt it—God, you felt it. 

“And the truth comes to light,” you tutted, kissing your teeth and shaking your head in disapproval, “is that all you wanted? To feel me up, Jin?” 

The apples of his cheeks were dusted in a deep roseate shade, “I mean. . it’s not all I wanted.” 

“Are you blushing, Seokjin?” you mumbled, “I thought this was a confessional. I mean you enjoyed having your hands on me the entire way here, right?” 

“Right,” The crimson shade traveled to the tips of his ears. He’s bashful; how cute. 

“Jinnie?” 

He hummed. 

“I also enjoyed it,” you said, “it’s too bad though.”  

“What is?” His eyes were doe-like, holding a luminous glimmer which projected the intricate ocean waves on them as they continued rocking right before you. 

“Your hands never really made it where I needed them.” 

He gulped, “and where was that?” 

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” your fingertips toyed with the button of your shorts. Typically, you weren’t this forward and simply let your misfortune map the adverse roads of your life but today you didn’t care to fight against yourself. You wanted him. You needed him, “of course, we can pick up where you left off and actually progress higher this time.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Are you okay with that?” 

“I’m so okay with that.” 

“Is that the only way in?” you pointed in the direction the two of you came in. 

“Boats can pull up through the archways as well,” Jin’s bottom lip was tucked under his lips and his gaze devouring you entirely. 

Of course, you began the show by slipping your hands under the fabric of your denim shorts. Your middle finger began drawing vertical lines against your clothed slit—dragging it slowly. Up and down, again and again, until the friction became useless to your zealous desire. 

“Then, we better be quick,” you breathed out. 

“I better be quick,” he emphasized moving closer to you. 

The shadows of his face were so close to yours you could draw out every little feature and decipher the hints of eucalyptus and mint from his morning shampoo. Your hands landed on his cheek, leading him closer to you; pressing your bodies to one another. 

Seokjin’s lips were warm and soft like velvet moving in a uniformed dance against yours. It was slow yet passionate as if he was trying to savor every inch of your lips—as if he wanted to be consumed by the taste of your tongue. 

The pads of his fingers left behind a trail of goosebumps as they moved lower and lower, until they came in contact with your shorts. In a swift moment he unbuttoned them and began drawing small figures onto your skin right where the hem of your panties sat. 

Between his lips and his touch you felt inebriated, as if you were mindlessly roaming around somewhere between the clouds and the sky. 

He pulled away but his forehead rested on yours. His lips still hovered over yours as his paced pants fanned his cool breath on them. 

“Can I. .?” 

“Please, Seokjin. Please touch me,” the pleads dripped from your lips semi-automatically and you had to admit there wasn’t a hint of shame to hold you back. 

There was nothing on earth more exhilarating, more enlivening than the feeling of Jin’s hands sinking under the fabric of your silk underwear. Not riding a roller coaster, not climbing the highest mountain on earth, not even winning the fucking lottery. His touch was intoxicating. . just like his kisses and there was nothing you’d rather feel. Except, probably a bit, more. 

“Faster, please,” you whined, swaying your hips against his touch as he drew circles on your aching clit. If obeying and compliance was a stern trait then it is one Jin conveyed with no push backs or arguments. 

“Tell me something doll,” his fingers traveled lower lining up against your entrance. He pressed against your cunt but never pushed past—the squelching of your wetness echoed in your ears. It was all you could hear, “did you ever think we’d be in this predicament this early on?” 

You gasped, urgently shaking your head as his fingers became wrapped in your walls moving in and out of you slowly, “I-I didn’t. But I did hope for it.” 

He sneered, “you hoped for it, huh?” 

“Dreamt of it on my first night here actually.” 

“I dreamt of it too, you know,” he whispered softly, his lips traced the shell of your ear, “the way you’d feel, your sweet sounds, the way you’d be clenching around me the exact same way you are right now.” 

His name was a mantra laced on your tongue and you uttered it once and once again as if it was muscle memory. The only thing, the only name coherent enough in your head—the only one you knew, which was probably true. You couldn’t even recall your own. 

But he had no mercy on you, his digits had no mercy on you—they just moved in and out of your slickness quicker and quicker as time progressed and you were so close, you practically stood at the edge as your orgasm approached in a massive wave. 

“Please,” you moaned, “please let me-“ 

He shook his head, “Just a bit longer, doll.” 

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were shut tight, the back of your eyelids tainted with desperation. And Jin was no longer stationed beside you, instead he kneeled in front of your bent legs spreading them farther and farther away from each other. 

The ocean still sat just a couple feet ahead, still singing that soulful song which eased your nerves the longer you laid on that very sand waiting—urging for Jin’s touch on you. 

It was all you could think of. . the way his touch burned trails of passion on your skin leaving behind a desire so potent that you just couldn’t extinguish without his help.  

He was the only one who could put it out. 

Seokjin removed both your shorts and panties leaving them pooled at your ankles. His austere gaze remained on your cunt and he seemed to be drinking in every detail of your blossomed rose. 

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly.  

“Jin,” your eyes, your voice both dripped with desperation. 

He nodded understanding your unspoken command almost instantly inching closer and closer between your thighs until his face sat just a couple inches away. His tongue was frigid against your slit it weaved a bolt of electricity intertwined along the ridges of your spine. A gasp escaped your lips as he perfected the combination of sucking and licking your sensitive bud before dragging his flattened tongue along your folds. 

A delectable repetition. One, more saccharine than any dessert you’d had the burden of making back during your days in the kitchen. 

This was better. It was so much fucking better. 

Seokjin’s slurp noises against you, your sweet incoherent sounds and the cries of the ocean were one in the same. All of them were the end product of an orchestrated ballad. 

“Jinnie,” your nails massaged his scalp before gripping his face, pushing him closer to you. God, you needed him closer. So much fucking closer. 

“Yes, doll?” His words almost muffled an evident refusal to stop what he was doing. 

“Can I h-help you out?” 

“With?” he continued. 

“Even from up here I can see how tight your shorts have become,” you hissed, “I want you in my mouth while you eat me out.” 

Seokjin pulled away. Your juices coated his chin and mouth, “That’s fine baby, but I want you sitting on my face.” 

Jin took your spot sprawled out on the sand. You climbed on top of him, placing your knees on either side of his face claiming your seat on his features. His hands snaked around your thighs, pulling you down, positioning your soaked cunt to be aligned with his mouth. Meanwhile, you leaned forwards helping him pull down and finally kick off his briefs. 

Seokjin was big. Bigger than you’d imagined. 

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you took his tip past your lips, finally getting a taste of his pre-cum. At the same time you felt him take a swipe on your fold before his eloquent tongue dug inside you diligently licking your walls, ridding them off your juices. 

The iteration of a sinful melody. Building up tension in the pit of your stomach while your back arched and your toes curled. 

Though, you tried to focus on the way his cock moved in and out of your mouth—his deathly grasp on your thighs and his tongue. . It was all too distracting. 

“Fuck, Jin,” you keen too dazed in pleasure to fully grasp the way you tugged on his hair keeping his head in place as you began to grind on his face, finally succumbing to the urgency of reaching your approaching peak. 

He hummed under you, leading your unoccupied hand down to his cock and guiding it up and down his shaft. This went on for some time. Felt like forever and then finally he came in warm spurts coating your hand. And that very image drove you to your climax as he licked you dry. 

Carefully, you climbed off his face and laid right beside him, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. 

Your name sounded like peaches in his strained voice, “you. . that was amazing.”  

“You’re amazing,” you giggled, “but once again you did all the work.” 

“I don’t mind doing all the work,” he leaned over leaving peppered kisses on your cheek. 

“You say that to all the girls who occupy the Airbnb?” 

“Nope,” he emphasized the p, “just you.” 

“I find that hard to believe. Just look at you.” 

“You think my charms and good looks are hard to resist?” he beamed. 

“That and the third leg in between your thighs.” 

He laughed. “Well, believe it. You’re the only girl I’ve done. . anything with for years.” 

Your heart beat rhythmically in your chest at the utterance of his confession. His words didn’t mean much at all but you couldn’t help the fluffers in your head and the way your stomach felt so giddy you thought you’d vomit. 

It felt foreign but you welcomed it nevertheless. You liked that feeling. 

“You wanna go swimming?” you asked. 

“Skinny dipping?” he quirked a brow. 

“You’re not worried about someone coming?” 

“If someone’s come in for the past like fifteen minutes they saw me neck deep in your pussy,” he stood up taking off his shirt and leaving his shorts behind before running towards the aquamarine waves, “I don’t really think it matters anymore.”

“If?” you asked following behind him. 

The day before yesterday was a dream. 

A dream, no a wet dream. Composed of your fervent fantasies. And you? You lived in that cave and you probably would for the rest of your time here. Dwelling on his warm touch on your skin—goosebumps rose on every inch of your body causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight. 

Your fingers followed the trails he’d mapped on your body, paved so intricately, they were so easy to follow and all roads led to the same exact place. 

You were so wet, but you probably had been ever since that day. Was that normal? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to touch you again. 

There was a knock on the door waking you right out of your daydreams. Grabbing your robe you wrapped it around your figure before heading towards the door. 

“Hey,” you opened the door standing aside allowing him to come in. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been MIA since yesterday,” he kissed your cheek—you guys weren’t nearly official but it kind of felt like you were. . or you hoped so anyway, “Uncle Gong has been on edge lately. There’s another seafood restaurant opening up on the pier. It's got him going crazy.” 

“Crazy prep hours?” 

He sighed before slouching down on the couch, “crazy prep hours,” he confirmed. 

“You must be so tired,” you cooed, “do you want anything to eat? I can make you something.” 

“I’m okay, besides food is not exactly what I’m craving.” 

“Hm,” you straddled his lap. “Then, what is?”

“I should’ve kissed you after I ate you out yesterday,” his hands slid under your robe kneading your upper thighs, “you would’ve gotten a chance to see how addicting you taste.” 

His phone began buzzing, it was Uncle Gong. Jin sighed before pressing the accept button and in a matter of seconds you heard the older man’s voice in a frantic banter. 

You were one hundred percent sure it wasn’t Uncle Gong’s intention to cockblock but you just wanted Seokjin to stay and fuck you into the mattress. 

You were still dripping just thinking about it. However, by the look on his face you were certain he had other news—ones which hindered your fantasies of early morning sex. 

“I gotta go.” 

“Do you have to?” you whined. 

“I don’t want to,” he leaned over, leaving a kiss on your lips. It was brief and your body screamed for more but you didn’t vocalize it. Instead you sat in silence as he continued to carry out a mental battle attempting to find a victo. He had to go, you knew that much. You also knew he wanted to stay. You wanted him to as well but he couldn’t. 

He stood from the couch but before he could make his way towards the front door Jin turned back around, kneeling right before you. His hand reached up cupping your face as he leaned closer until his silken lips landed back on yours. However, this wasn’t just another peck. 

This kiss. 

It swept you under the currents of the bestial sea and you sank deeper towards the ocean floor but you weren’t scared. In the void, under the darkness of the tide Jin was a beacon of light—guiding you towards an eternity where his lips kept moving on yours the way they were right now. 

This fucking kiss. 

Is your beginning but also your end. 

It took your last breath but also made you feel alive. 

You didn’t want it to end. . but it did, “meet me at the restaurant tomorrow tonight. Uncle Gong is letting me prepare something for you. Took a lot of convincing but I had him come around.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

“Seven o’clock.” 

“Just twenty four hours.” 

He smiled before closing the door behind him. 

Back in the city dating was rather difficult. 

Not only were you a workaholic, you also avoided any kind of social events and situations outside of the restaurant. 

Here, things were a bit different. You came here for a chance at self reflection, to work on yourself and find the real you but instead your path became intertwined with Seokjin and while you didn’t mind you also couldn’t help but reprimand your heart whenever it skipped a beat at the sight of him. 

Sort of like it was doing right now, Jin was in the kitchen of Kim’s Abroad and you sat at the small table set-up for a candlelit dinner for two. 

The gears in the rules of the universe shifted Noone ever went through this kind of trouble—to plan something this nice after they’d already had their fun with you. Especially if things would have taken their  course as easily as they did with him. 

Well, except, maybe Seokjin. 

Cute. 

“Tonight’s special,” he set both of your plates on the table revealing a cut of grilled salmon garnished with lemon wedges, and accompanied by coconut rice and roasted potatoes, “I hope you like it. . but please do lie if you hate it. I’m sensitive.” 

You laughed, mounting your spoon with the perfect bite of all the foods he’d prepared combined before taking it in your mouth, your taste buds danced in delight, “Seokjin, this is heavenly. It is truly amazing.” 

“Is that the honest truth or are you just looking to spare my feelings?” 

“I would never lie,” you swallowed before continuing, “This is all absolutely delicious.” 

“Better than Uncle Gong’s crab cakes?” 

“I thought that was your recipe?” 

“It is,” he shrugged, “but he thinks he makes them better than me.” 

“I don’t know, I think he wins this war,” you joked, “those crab cakes were killer.” 

“Traiter,” he scoffed.

Dinner was exquisite but small talk was left to a minimum when you both realized Uncle Gong’s restaurant curfew was quickly approaching. After cleaning up and closing up you and Seokjin headed towards the roof, unwilling to give up the night and let it cease. 

The street lights lit up the street corners and while there were people roaming around here and there—it was nothing compared to the congested afternoons. 

But you liked this. 

The feeling of you and Seokjin being the only people left behind in the world, the songs of the waves still playing in the background and the stars gleaming overhead. 

“Has this always been your secret spot?” you asked, laying beside him on the navy blue duvet. 

“Yes,” his eyes glowed under the light of the moon, again they looked lighter than you’d remembered, “I practically lived up here like three summers ago.” 

“An escape?” you asked, not really needing to emphasize. 

He nodded, “after mom passed the house choked me with her lingering presence, her scent, her love. I wanted her back. To spend just one more day with her and make sure she knew how much I loved her and how much I would miss her but that’s just not how life worked and she was no longer there.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you snuggled closer into him, laying your head on your chest—his heartbeat thumped against your ear, “I can’t even imagine how hard that time must have been.” 

“It was,” he laid his head on yours, “It was harder than hard if that even makes sense. I shut a lot of things out and no longer found comfort in the things I loved. .” he paused. 

“Like riding?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, there was a slight tremble in his voice, “it’s just mom wasn’t there to cheer me on anymore. Looking out at the stands was depressing because her usual seat was empty. Sadness overshadowed everything on the track, she was all I could think of.” 

You didn’t say anything, just allowed him to carry on without interruptions. He continued, “Uncle Gong tagged along whenever he didn’t have to manage the restaurant but it just wasn’t the same, you know?” 

You hummed letting him know you still listened attentively. 

“Wounds heal over time though and while this one tears a bit every time I think of her, I know she’s up there watching over me,” he said. 

“She is, she’s always been watching over you and she always will be.”

“I know,” he simpered, leaving a soft peck on your forehead. “What about you? Are you missing your life back in the city yet?” 

“Not a chance.” 

“What is this vendetta you hold against the city?” 

“The city is such a hypocrite. I never understood how so many souls could live in the same place and yet one person could still manage to feel so lonely,” you exhaled rather loudly, “life. . things were supposed to be different, you know?” 

“Different isn’t always bad.” 

“I suppose not.” 

“It’s not,” a slight smile sat on his lips. A brief silence fell between you two and then he asked the question you’d avoided giving any thought to since setting foot in town, “do your parents know you’re here?” 

“Not. . really?” 

“That sounded like a question.” 

“It kind of is.” 

A slight smile was displayed on his lips, “Are you here hiding from them?” 

“Kind of. .” you cackled, “it’s not really hiding if they don’t know I’m here to begin with right?” 

“So they don’t know you left the city?” 

“They know—I’m not in the city and taking a small break but they don’t know exactly where,” you say mushing all the words into one long word, not really wanting to decipher what you were saying, “they also don’t know I was fired. I think that’ll break their heart too much.” 

“Are you planning to tell them anytime soon?” 

“I was going to tell them. . once I make it back to the city and find a new job.” 

“Oh..okay.” 

His embrace grew tighter, he held you closer and you could feel his warmth wracking your nerves. It was like he didn’t want to let go.. not now. Not ever. And you didn’t want him to either, “but I’m not sure if that truly is the reality of what I want,” you sighed, “I was miserable in the city, the life I lived there was rigid. Besides, cooking is not what I intend to do for the rest of my life. I just. . I don’t know what to do.” 

“All of the roads leading to our destiny are paved the way they are for a reason,” Jin offered, “they mold us and guide us to the exact spot where we are supposed to be.”  

“You’re right.” 

“Also call your parents. You deserve to pursue what you want but they should also know,” he said. “Plus, I bet they’re worried sick.” 

“Again. . you’re right.” a low sough escaped your lips mimicking the swift draft blowing by in the late night. 

”I know I am,” he said smugly, “what would you even do without me?”

“You’re a cocky motherfucker you know.” 

“If by cocky motherfucker you mean multi-talented handsome Jin. Then, yes I do agree with that.” 

“Not what I meant,” you mumbled. 

“You know, you weren’t talking all this shit when we were in that cave a couple days ago.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s because my mouth was kind of a little busy.” 

“Right,” Jin drew in a deep breath, his fingers toyed with the straps of your dress, “you know I think we left something unfinished back in your apartment a couple of days ago.” 

“Yeah, it’s too bad that you had to go,” you turned around now lying on your side facing away from him, “because I wanted—I needed you to stay so bad.” 

“Needed, huh?” he asked, pressing closer against your back side. Lingers of sandalwood and citrus invaded your nostrils. An aromatic scent so rich and so addicting all you craved was to bury your nose to the base of his neck and grow faded off his fragrance. 

You closed your eyes, ensnared in the trance of his soft pants as he began grinding his crotch against your ass at an agonizing pace. 

His clothed dick marked you before you even had the chance to feel him inside you.

 It was torture. 

“Jin,” you moaned. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” he replied in a derisive tone while clicking his tongue. His hands reached lower and lower until they landed on your inner thighs, “am I close to where you want me?” 

You nodded frantically, “Higher.” 

His fingers delineated the goosebumps forming on your skin as he dawdled his journey to your soaked cunt. 

“Higher, Seokjin. Please,” your voice tainted with desire and desperation. 

“Tell me, is this where you want me?” His digits traced your folds spreading your wetness en route. Your dress now hiked up to your waist as Jin began rubbing small circles on your clit. Then, slowly he repeated, “Is this where you wanted me?” 

“Hm.” 

“You were anticipating this weren’t you?” Jin whispered, causing downpours of chills to trickle down your back, “is that why you wore no underwear?” 

His fingers continued working in-between your folds, “Uh, fuck yes!” You screamed out. 

There were approximately billions of stars in the Milky Way galaxy, a lot of which you were looking up to at that very moment. And yet as you laid there under the incantation of Seokjin’s finger you witnessed the birth of many stars flickering into life. 

Your chest heaved as you settled down from yet another astounding high. 

“Doll,” Seokjin swiped his fingers coated with your juices onto your lips, as if he was applying lip gloss on you. You opened your mouth taking his digits in licking them clean. “Holy fuck, you will be the death of me.” 

“Jin?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I need you.” 

He laid flat on his back patting his lap, “come on, baby girl.” 

You straddled him, your wet pulsating cunt rubbing against his clothed erection. There was a painful hunger rooting in between your legs—craving nothing but to have him buried deep in you. 

“Take it out,” he instructed. You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free. 

Slowly, you began sinking down on his cock. Your mouth agape at the overwhelming feeling of him filling you up while your hands landed on his chest for balance. Once accustomed to his size you began to move up and down on his length as he disappeared deeper and deeper inside of you. 

Seokjin was full of pleasant surprises; his fingers, his mouth, his tongue so it was really no surprise his dick was equally as blessed. 

“Seokjin,” you whimpered. 

“Oh doll,” his hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin likely to leave marks behind—guiding you to move at a quicker pace.  “Fuck!” 

“God, you feel so good.” 

The composition of your bodies moving against each other molded into the perfect whole. You were two, but while he fucked into you the way he was you felt as if he belonged inside your walls and you never ever wanted to feel empty again.  

“Doll, I’m so close,” his rough and raspy voice was a bass tune in your ears, “so fucking close.” 

“I want you to cum in me. Please, Jin,” you continued riding him, your skin slapping on his continuing your journey on his cock sliding up and down over and over until your walls began to clench around him. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached your peak and you collapsed on top of him, out of breath and too tired to do anything that required moving in any way. 

“Now tell me, is there any chance you’d stay even after the summer’s over.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” his skin was scolding even over the layer of his t-shirt, his chest and forehead glistening by a thin layer of sweat, “a lot actually.” 

“And what was the conclusion?” 

“I like it here,” you kissed his cheek, “I think I’ll be staying. . For now. Take some time to myself and explore things.” 

“I like it when you’re here.” 

“That reminds me,” you reached for your purse, “ I have a surprise for you.” 

You pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to him. His eyes scanned the sketch, “Is this us?” 

“It’s us. . in the cave,” you giggled, “I tried to capture every moment.” 

“I especially like the one with my head between your legs,” a rosey shade painted his cheeks. 

“Had to portray my favorite moment from that day.” 

“We can always recreate it. To liven the memory, you know.” 

“Right now?” 

“Right now,” he disappeared lower in between your thighs, his head hiding under the fabric of your dress. 

Kind days were definitely in forecast especially if you had Seokjin right there by your side. 

-

-

-

an: holy fuck this was a blast to write. as always if the smut is intolerable pls look away (although, that may be hard cause there are multiple smut scenes so. . uh, yeah).

for the seokjinnies who miss seokjin very dearly .

[tiramisuucakeee]

3. THE AMAZING JUNGWON

( sunflower, yang jungwon )

all day, jungwon had been spinning through your thoughts like a spider weaving its web. there was something about him that made it impossible to forget, and you were certain it wasn’t just guilt from his injury yesterday.

during lunch, your eyes met across the cafeteria, and he flashed you a small smile and a wave, only to be playfully nudged by his friend, who teased him. which could mean absolutely nothing, but could it actually?

what if it didn’t mean nothing. what if it was destiny that he had saved you from getting hit at practice. maybe it was the universe’s way of telling you something.

yet, he didn’t actually seem interested in you. giselle and winter were convinced he had feelings, arguing that no one jumps into harm's way for someone they hardly know. those thoughts swirled in your mind, and it was becoming overwhelming.

“damn it,” you muttered, frustrated, as you accidentally hit the 'delete' key instead of 'enter' on your history homework, losing an entire paragraph.

you stared at the meaningless virtual page, reading over the words to remember what you were writing. “and he led them to war to bring honor to his country, yang jungwon bravely- huh?" you stopped yourself, noticing his name in your work.

with a sigh, you clicked the ‘delete’ button on every instance of his name, replacing it with something else. "this can't be happening," you groaned, falling back into your chair.

deciding on getting some fresh air, you stood up, walking over to your window, sliding it open to reveal the cold night air. the dark sky seemed to be covered in freckles of stars, twinkling brightly.

suddenly, a face appeared right in front of you, dangling from the edge of the building.

"ah!" you screamed, stumbling back in shock, only to recognize the familiar grin. "oh my god! don't scare me like that, mr. spider-man!" you laughed, breathless.

he tilted his head to the right, still hanging upside down outside your window. "i didn’t think you were someone who gets scared easily," he remarked, gripping his web tightly while wincing slightly at his ankle, which was healing fast.

“i guess i am when a superhero pops out of nowhere outside my window,” you stood up, dusting your white top and sweatpants off.

he hummed, observing you crossing your arms. “are you going to hang upside down forever or are you going to come in?” you asked.

he nodded, already feeling a bit dizzy, and flipped himself into your room, landing gracefully on his feet. spider-man took a moment to survey your space, this was the first time yang jungwon had been inside a girl's room that wasn’t his aunt’s.

yours was just like how he pictured it, messy bed, lots of perfumes and makeup, pompom’s and cheer jacket handing behind your door, a fluffy mat and cute plushies.

“what? never been inside a girl’s room before?” you laughed at his demeanor, as he observed everything.

“what gave it away?” spider-man replied, stepping dangerously closer, his presence slightly towering over you.

“everything,” you grinned, poking his arm playfully. “you want something to eat? drink?” you offered the hero, who squinted his spider eyes at you. “won’t your parents be mad at you having spider-man over and offering him your food?” he asked.

“if i don’t do it, they’d probably offer you themselves if they weren’t out,” you shot back, noticing the confusion on his masked face. “it’s their anniversary. while some are out celebrating, others are stuck finishing history homework…” you gestured toward your computer, prompting him to lean in for a better look.

“huh, i didn’t know this guy, yang jungwon led people into battle,” spider-man read over your last paragraph, making you widen your eyes at his words. “wait! stop reading! no!” you exclaimed, sprinting to the computer to shut it off while he laughed, casually jumping onto your bed.

“you got a crush on this guy?” he asked, propping himself up on his arms.

you turned to him, feigning annoyance. “no, he’s just someone from school who saved me from getting hit by a football yesterday,” you explained. then, a lightbulb went off in your head. “wait! you work for stark! you should know him! he has an internship with tony!” you lit up, jumping to stand up closer to him, curious.

“what was his name again?” jungwon asked indifferently, hoping not to blow his cover.

“yang jungwon, he’s about this tall,” you stretched your arm abover your head, stopping some inches above your head. “he’s really smart, at least from what i’ve heard.”

“oh yeah, i know the kid,” spider-man recalled. “he’s super nice and handsome, he’s also very smart like you said, always has answers for everything, he’s also really strong and single, just so you know-“

“you seem to know him well,” you told spider-man, who kept rambling about jungwon like there was no tomorrow.

“well, stark thinks he’s great so... if you like him, i say you should go for it,” he shrugged, blushing underneath his mask, not knowing where he got all this confidence from.

“like him? absolutely no, i barely know the guy,” you snorted, motioning for him to follow you out the room. the hero complied, walking behind you to the kitchen of the gigantic l/n penthouse.

“anyway, what are you even doing here?” you asked him, opening the big fridge to take out some chocolate chip cookies and milk, then heading over to the cabinet near and taking out some cups and a plate.

“i came to see how you were doing, you seem well,” said spider-man sitting on a tall chair on the kitchen island.

“you’re really wasting your precious hero time to visit a random girl you saved?” you opened the pack of cookies, placing them in the plate, and started to pour some milk in each glass, sliding one over to him.

he looked at the glass as if it were a ticking bomb. “uh, thanks,” he said, glancing between you and the milk.

spider-man stared at it with fright, until you spoke again. “i can give you a straw if you want, but you will have to pull up your mask just a bit if you wanna eat,” you told him, seeing as if he was afraid to reveal at least a speck of his face.

“no, i’m okay, i’ll just-" he raised a bit of his mask up, revealing his slightly pale skin, and drank some milk, careful to only hold up the mask to his lips. he knew that if he were anyone else, he wouldn’t even do this, but jungwon knew you in person, and he trusted himself around you.

“you really are careful,” you sighed. “if i was spider-man, firstly, my suit would be white, and secondly, i’d tell half the world who i am and let them spread the news to the other half,” you laughed, popping a cookie into your mouth.

“i think you’d be a great spider-woman,” he said, taking a cookie too. something about jungwon is that he absolutely loves girlscout cookies. “apart from the fact that you couldn’t keep your identity a secret, and that your suit would easily get dirty, they would love you.”

“they?”

“the avengers, they would really like you, specially captain america, you talk like him-" he started.

“ugh, don’t even, i have probably seen him more than my own family, my school keeps playing these stupid psa videos,” you groaned.

“oh, those? yeah, they’re pretty annoying. i hate them,” spider-man agreed, rolling his eyes.

“you go to school near then,” you teased.

“what?! how’d you know?! i mean, i’m a grown man- i already graduated college and stuff!” he quickly corrected, a hint of panic in his voice, trying to make it sound deeper.

you laughed, enjoying the playful banter. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, mr. spider-man.”

TAGS: @jiiyen

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Flirtations

G/N. You, a lil dense. Ryuhei is Ryuhei.

Ryuhei hasn't made up his mind whether you're dense or deaf... Or selective hearing is more like it.

When he turned his so-called charms on you, you always plastered on an innocent smile and asked him to repeat again what he said.

Well, doesn't that lose its impact the second time round. He rarely repeats his words and slinks away, pride and ego wounded.

Other times you would just outright ignore him. Which is fine, he supposes. He's used to that after pining after Mitsuki for years.

Yet sometimes he would catch you watching him with a look that would make his own face burn.

Sigh. What is a Kagiroi supposed to do?

Am I losing my touch, Ryuhei thinks, Did I even ever have a touch? He looks down at his crotch glumly. Looks like it's just you and me.

.

.

"Hey cutie~" Ryuhei grins, leaning over your desk and wanting attention.

(Ryuhei's style of flirting is less harassment and more playful with you. Sorta.

Him and Mitsuki are one thing, but even Ryuhei knows where to draw the line with most people. It would be a pain if HR got involved, or god forbid, that little bastard Eugene.

Why that twink has taken such a liking to you, Ryuhei would damn well like to know. Hell, why Ryuhei himself has taken such a liking to you, he can't figure out either.)

Brushing his tie out the way, you don't bother peering up at your blonde coworker. You're this close to finishing the document. Just a couple more paragraphs and you can clock out for the day.

You hear him chatter away over the top of your head but your focus remains firmly on the papers. Eyes skimming over the last line, you sign it with your signature and breathe a sigh of relief.

Done.

His voice drifts over as soon as your pen lifts from the page, "You're finished?"

A nod. Ryuhei returns your gesture with a smile. He was aiming for salacious but it comes out sweet.

Then returning back to form, his eyes greedily rove over your figure as you stretch, elongating your body and hands reaching high over your head, hearing your joints crack and pop.

The smile on your face matches his, a bit too sentimental for his heart to take. Your words, however- "So all those times you said you wanted to play, what did you have in mind?"

"W-what?"

"Wanna go for a ride?"

Goddamnit, those are his lines. Did he hear you right? You wanna ride him? Ride his d- "Ride?! Right now?"

"Yep!"

"Me and you?!"

"Sure!"

Ryuhei looks down, feels the first stirring since forever of his little attack dog-

You stand up, legs stiff after sitting down for hours, and pull on your jacket, "You're always going on about it, let's go get your bike!"

Shit.

You meant an actual ride.

Fuck!

Ryuhei plops down on a nearby chair, crossing his legs to hopefully conceal his growing interest.

"...Give me a moment." He mumbles as you tilt your head in confusion.