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lovieku · 5 months ago

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GOOD LUCK, BABE! #4 ⋆ 정국

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 21.8k

☾ warnings: huhhhh. Angst! jeongguk being a pain in the ass for no reason. well sorta kinda! lots of cute fun moments with the group. until jeongguk comes and ruins it all. (no but i love him). unserious banter until it gets serious, again. pov switch! angst angst angst. mentions of blood!!! fluff if you squint. jealousy if you squint, like, really hard.

☾ author’s note: HELLOOOO first of all happy (late) birthday namjoonie <3 second of all IM FINALLY HERE!!! and this chapter is so long omfg. i got carried away and realised way too late. was too deep in! hope you can enjoy, i love love them sm, its worth getting to the end!

ps: if you read this, lmk what u enjoy more between eunbi��s pov and jk’s pov. it wont change the way i write the story, im just curious!! okay bye <3

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four ⋆ good 4 u

Sleep doesn’t find Eunbi that night. Her mind runs from it, busy searching for something else, grasping for answers to questions that don’t have one. And if they do exist, they get lost in a haze of sadness. Anger. Helplessness. Sadness again.

When Dahye joins her in their shared tent, Eunbi’s eyes are hollow, devoid of any emotion. Her ears still ring with a distant noise, struggling to pick up her friend’s passionate reassurances. Still, she lets herself be held, and comforted by words her brain can’t quite grasp, head resting on Dahye’s chest, a gentle hand running through her hair. For a moment, feeling the soft rhythm of her friend’s breath, she clings to the comfort of her presence, hoping it might anchor her in some way, keep her from completely drifting away.

But everything she has been trying to shut out comes crashing down on her fragile figure the moment she feels Dahye’s arms grow weaker around her, and her breaths getting heavier as sleep takes her. Silent tears trace a path down her cheeks, while loud, screaming thoughts make her head throb and keep her awake all night. She regrets being here; regrets naively hoping things could be mended so easily; regrets the way she stayed quiet the first moment she laid eyes on Jeongguk after all those years; knows it’s her fault.

By morning, the sun having climbed its way in the sky for a couple hours already and its rays forcing themselves in their shelter with unwanted light, she can sense Dahye subtly stir under her. Immediately, Eunbi shuts her eyes closed, feigning deep slumber. Instead, her very awake ears perk when she can feel fussing, Dahye sitting up and ultimately shaking the seemingly unconscious girl’s shoulder, “Bibi?”

If all goes wrong, at least Eunbi could win an Oscar for her performance, the way her eyelids flutter open, slow and heavy, only after rubbing them, and a big yawn escapes her mouth. That wasn’t too fake after all, her body weary with the all-nighter. Dahye doesn’t notice, her smile soft, “Did you sleep well? Are you feeling a bit better?”

Eunbi simply nods, her expression void. She barely registers the other girl mentioning something about washing up, and breakfast, “I’ll leave you some time. But if you’re not out by the time I’m done in the bathroom, I’m dragging your ass out.” Just like that, she slips out of the tent.

Left alone once again with silence, Eunbi listens to the faint noises outside— the muffled voices of her roommate greeting Hoseok and Yoongi. At that, the urge to cry returns, and she feels tears sting at her bottom lashes, threatening to spill. But this time, she holds them back. She knows she can’t let herself break down, not now. Not with everyone outside, and especially not with Jeongguk. Still, she doesn’t think the sorrow written all over her features will go unnoticed.

She feels like an outsider, an intruder trespassing on sacred ground. As if the moment she steps out, all eyes will be on her miserable figure, stripping her bare, judging her poor choices, the ones that lead Jeongguk to spit venom in her face hours ago. Making it clear that she doesn't belong there, that she will never be part of what they already have. Of what Jeongguk has built after her.

Last night, she tried to blame him. She wanted to be angry at him, to turn her hurt into something tangible, something outside of herself. But she couldn't. In the end, she could only turn the anger inward, could only blame herself. Being called a bitch by the best person she's ever known, in front of her university friends, was a brutal wake up call. A reminder of how far she has fallen.

The weight of those thoughts paralyses her for a long moment, while a squeaky, high-pitched voice in the back of her brain screams at her to move, if only to avoid the pitying glance she might receive when Dahye returns. Still, her body protests, limbs heavy and muscles tight from the lack of sleep in the small, uncomfortable place.

With a deep breath that quivers in her chest, she forces herself up. For a second, her hand hesitating at the tent’s entrance and hovering over the zipper, she contemplates hiding in here forever, away from the discomfort. But she knows better. The world outside is waiting, and no amount of hesitation will make it disappear. Quickly throwing on a light pink crewneck over her pyjama shorts, she steps out.

Cool air brushes against her skin in a tender manner, gently welcoming her and seemingly easing her nerves. Before she’s forced to acknowledge the others, she moves quickly, her flip flops clad feet making their way to the small wash station. She hopes the freezing water she repeatedly splashes on her face will cleanse away the fog of the sleepless night, and wishes it could also wash away the weight pressing down on her chest. In the mirror, she convinces herself the dark circles under her eyes aren’t that dark after all, and that the unsettling smile she’s practising is convincing enough to finally join Dahye outside.

The makeshift breakfast setup is simple: a few snacks, some bread, fruit. Namjoon, Taehyung and Aera have also joined the small gathering, making it seven of them now, while the others seem to still be asleep in their tents. Eunbi can hear the casual chatter of the group, the way their voices blend together in an easy rhythm that feels foreign to her now.

With her head down, she picks at the small offerings, not really tasting anything, her appetite almost nonexistent. She almost misses Yoongi’s voice beside her, “Did the creams work?”

Eunbi startles slightly, her gaze darting to the older boy, who wears a sweet grin on his lips. She nods, mirroring his smile timidly. Yoongi makes a show of inspecting her nose as he leans closer, without going over the invisible boundary, his eyes squinting with exaggerated seriousness as he impersonates a doctor’s authority, “Yes, yes. They definitely worked. My patient looks so much better now.” His voice mocks a solemn tone, and it makes the girl heartily giggle.

She’s surprised to see this side of the boy, and she briefly wonders if he’s putting on this act just for her sake, because the misery on her features is that obvious even to him, who left the campfire way before the incident had happened. Either way, it works— she feels herself relax, if only a little, sinking back into her chair with a bit more ease.

Then, Aera asks her about the hoodie she’s wearing, going on about how it compliments her complexion perfectly and Dahye chimes in, explaining how it had originally belonged to her, but after the other girl borrowed it once she decided it looked so much better on her friend that she insisted Eunbi kept it. The recalling of those times keep her distracted, the smile on her face growing bigger as Namjoon makes sure she’s refilling her stomach properly, insisting that she needs her strength for the day’s activities, the worry in his furrowed brows making her feel part of something again.

Just as she begins to think she might make it through this, she senses a shift in the atmosphere. Besides her, Dahye tenses, and Aera clears her throat. Eunbi doesn’t have to look up to know why. Jeongguk has joined them. She can feel his presence like a dark cloud hanging over her, suffocating.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her eyes lift to meet his. His gaze is sharp, eyes shadowed by dark circles that suggest he’s had as restless a night as she has. There’s no trace of warmth, no hint of the familiarity they used to share. Just cold, hard resentment. For a fleeting second, she wills herself to desperately search his face for any sign that she hasn’t lost everything, that there’s still something worth saving. But he quickly diverts his eyes, turning his attention to the others and slipping easily into their conversation. Once again, she feels like a stranger intruding on his world.

As the group’s attention shifts to the boy, Eunbi finds herself spiralling back into her thoughts, struggling to grasp onto anything solid, anything that makes sense. She knows how this will play out: both of them only pretending the other doesn’t exist, but making it clear that same presence is despised, the petty glares and spiteful comments building until one of them finally snaps, just like last night.

To some extent, she understands his frustration. After all, she’s the unwanted guest at his birthday, a painful reminder of a past he’d rather forget. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less. She wasn’t expecting to be openly degraded, with such hatred in his face; to feel small and unwelcome in a place that feels as much hers as his. What can she do? It’s not as if she can just get up and disappear. She’s there, he’s there, and they’re stuck in this awkward dance.

He hasn’t tried to make it any less awkward. Her attempts at being civil have been outright dismissed, and the memory of it fills her with the same rage that bubbled up last night. And as she observes him, it only intensifies. She feels herself cycling through the five stages of grief at an inhumane speed and without following its original order, having skipped straight to depression and now bouncing back to anger. When Jeongguk’s eyes meet hers again, the smile he had been giving Jimin fades instantly. She hates that look.

All that heaviness from last night feels like it has been sucked out of her chest, suddenly devoid of any of the previous gloom that had led her to sad tears streaming her cheeks and impending guilt putting her at fault. Nothing’s left, except this tight, burning knot. It’s not sadness anymore, it’s a hot, fierce feeling coiling in her stomach.

It’s Hoseok who breaks the spell, demanding all of their attention on him, his voice taking on a loud and excited tone. Eunbi struggles to make sense of his words through the fog of anger, her slowed down thought process only registering them when the collective holler that follows fully snaps her out of her trance and pulls her back to the present. The first, opening activity of the trip would be trekking. She doesn’t even bother to fake enthusiasm.

It’s only the second day at the campsite, and Eunbi already has a list long enough to fill an entire notebook of reasons why she never should have come. First of all, whatever fragile hope she had about making things right with Jeongguk has probably died a quick death only in those first few hours. And the rest of the trip? It’s packed with outdoor activities that she wouldn’t really proclaim herself a fan of. Did she even consider that before agreeing to this? The small kid still living inside her most likely saw the words “Jeongguk” and “birthday” and hit yes without a second thought. Not paying any mind to the fact that the two of them are no longer those kids in Busan.

When she glances back at said Busan boy, the previous negativity is washed off his face and instead, his eyes are bright and animated, geeking about today’s trek. Her chest tightens, again. It stings. He looks exactly the way he always has, like the Jeongguk she knows, except she’s not the reason for that look on his face, anymore.

It makes her think. Overthink. Weigh her options. Trying to map out the safest way to move around this minefield. Just moments ago, the sight of him had her blood boiling, the fire in his eyes igniting a stronger spark in her own. But she’s also aware her current position doesn’t paint her as the one entitled to put all the blame on him. Especially when this is supposed to be his trip, a way to celebrate with the people he’s building a new life with. She was never part of the equation, and she gets it. A wrong combination led to unwanted results, and now neither of them know how to find the right pieces and put them back together. None of the numbers are adding up.

She doesn’t feel like letting her resentment take over, at least not here and now; last night only went to show emotions are definitely not needed to decode the problem. She’ll carry them quietly, maybe even figure out some kind of solution along the way. Discover different sequences of calculations that could make sense.

For now, she’s set on ignoring him and making sure her presence is ignored back; avoiding a problem and avoiding creating one. Is this the stage of acceptance? If that’s what it can be called, she welcomes it with a long, liberating breath, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dahye.

Except, several more huffs follow, and Dahye is there to endure all of them: when they’re back in the tent, Eunbi slapping on some concealer to cover her dark circles, then trying to disguise her pallid complexion with blush, ending up groaning and turning to her concerned friend with drawn up eyebrows, “Did I overdo it?”; as she’s zipping up her white tennis skort; rummaging her bag for ages only to slip on the most basic black oversized t-shirt; taking forever to tie her Converses.

Dahye stalls. She’s aware they’re late, can sense it in the way Hoseok is subtly raising his voice outside to make himself heard, “It’s not like we’re totally late on our schedule. Take your sweet time, guys!” He’s sarcastic, if his shaky laughter is anything to go by.

She also knows she doesn’t want to be eaten alive by her best friend, knows better not to rush her right now. She’s had enough experience living with her. So she stays quiet, puts up with her friend’s small crisis and lets her deal with it on her own. Only when it seems like she’s over with it, Dahye calmly asks Eunbi if she feels like she’s ready to go. The answer is uncertain, but Dahye grasps on that small percentuality of sureness and exits the tent either way, before Hoseok turns out to be the one eating her alive.

When they finally step out to join the group, Eunbi releases one last dramatic sigh, and the prolonged sound of it translates into Dahye’s right eyelid twitching. She tries composedly, at first, “Bibi, will you stop doing that?”

”Doing what?”

”Sighing like you’re a damn war veteran!” Her exasperation draws a few chuckles from their friends, including a sneaky giggle from Jimin, observing the interaction and getting Dahye’s attention in the process.

Eunbi mutters a small sorry, the apology dismissed by her now distracted friend, seemingly having forgotten the whole ordeal in a matter of seconds. The other girl seizes the moment to vent, “I’m just getting more stressed by the minute about this whole thing. I told you I shouldn’t have come. What if, I don’t know— I get hurt?” Her eyebrows are raised, dramatic act on, pout displayed, “I’ll blame you.”

Dahye is clearly unimpressed, rolling her eyes amusedly at Eunbi’s efforts, “Bi, you’ll be okay. Just fine.” She faces the shorter one now, hands on her shoulders like a mother sending her child off to summer camp. Well, technically she is about to do that, “Why don’t you try mingling with the others? Let’s pretend I don’t exist. Yeah!”

Dahye’s convincing nods are comically mirrored by Eunbi shaking her head, the desperation on her features going ignored by her taller friend. The last thing she wants right now is exactly mingling with the others. Dahye goes on dissimulating, “Stick next to Namjoon. He, huh— he knows about this kinda stuff. I guess? I’ll catch up with Jimin, okay? Bye, babe!”

Eunbi’s childish protests fall on deaf ears as the other girl slips away. Her one anchor, gone. Not even her best pleading tactics have worked. The muffled curses under her breath are vile, and she wishes Jimin would just make a move on her friend already. Maybe then, all of this would make sense.

Still, she merges with the others. It’s hard to find her place in there, especially with the insecurities plaguing her mind, as everyone splits off into their little duos and trios. Taehyung and Seokjin try to pull her into their usual, weird hypothetical debates, “Let’s say you have a penis. Would you still jack off if when you came your semen was just one big sperm, and afterward you'd have to fight it?”

Despite herself, she enjoys the distraction. Trekking is not so bad when you desperately need your brain to unplug. The trail is not too far from the campsite, circling it and making it ideal for them to wander without getting lost. The summer air is warm, and heavy with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the earthy aroma of sun-warmed pine needles.

With the path gradually climbing uphill, the initially dense forest begins to thin, and with it Eunbi’s thoughts follow, loosening with each step. She’s not sure if it’s the silly joy filling her when colourful butterflies flutter past, or the brief interaction she entertains with a small chipmunk darting across the way, but there’s something calming about the rhythm of it all. The green all around her takes over her spiralling mind.

Eventually, Dahye’s suggestion turns out to be a good one, and soon Eunbi finds herself covering most part of the walk with Namjoon by her side, who’s a walking encyclopedia on the local fauna. His easy conversation and gentle humour slowly start to chip away at the tension in her shoulders. He’s good company— listens well, comes up with just the right responses, and somehow makes her feel less like she’s tagging along and more like she belongs.

Time slips away when being this disconnected to the chaos of the city but so connected to this bubble of green and quiet. Sharing that with her friends doesn’t make her worry about the clock, though. She laughs loudly, and speaks comfortably. And just like that, she’s unaware of the first two hours that go by with walking and chatting, this last part ceasing gradually when the path becomes steeper and more rugged, their breaths getting heavier with each large step. But the effort is worth it when they reach the summit and are rewarded with a breathtaking view. Eunbi’s eyes light up at the sight, even more so when she spots the perfect rock to plop down on and gulp water from her flask.

Before she can, it takes a few other seconds for her eyes to cover the whole scene, and when they do she notices Jeongguk. He’s sitting next to Iseul, his clothes similar to the ones Eunbi is wearing, just colour inverted with a white oversized t-shirt and black gym shorts. He doesn’t seem to be aware of her presence, yet. He’s laughing at something on the girl’s phone. Eunbi silently scoffs.

The attention is brought on her and Namjoon the moment the latter greets his friend, who acts as if she doesn’t exist. Eunbi is not any less of an actor, pretending to be much more interested in the panorama rather than the conversation the two men are having.

While her companion takes some pictures of the scenery, Eunbi drinks as much water as needed to feel hydrated without needing to go to the bathroom in the next 10 seconds. The walk is still long, and the campsite still far. For that reason, and totally not because she can’t stand the sight of Jeongguk sitting next to the short haired girl giggling about one of their inside jokes, she announces, “I’m ready to go again.”

Namjoon looks a bit taken aback, “Already?”

”Yeah. Let’s go.”

”You sure you don’t wanna rest?” Eunbi only shakes her head, fixing the backpack on her shoulders. The taller boy chuckles, “And here I thought you hated trekking.”

Eunbi lets out a genuine laugh. It’s refreshing to hear, even if she can feel the interaction being followed attentively by a pair of curious eyes, and when she gives in and looks their way, they immediately focus on the trees behind her. Whatever.

Just as she starts walking to follow behind Namjoon, her foot trips on a rock and she stumbles. Her first instinct, accompanied by a loud squeal, is to grab Namjoon’s shoulders for support, and luckily the boy promptly catches her. From the corner of her eye, she swears she sees Jeongguk nearly leaping to his feet. His hand twitches before he forces it back to his lap.

”Are you okay?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide with concern, hands steady on her forearms as he checks her foot with his gaze for any sprain, “Wait, your shoe is untied.”

He swiftly drops on his knee and works on the laces of her shoes, delicately inspecting her ankle in the process. Eunbi looks down at him, and she feels her cheeks flare slightly, both because of the embarrassment and the action feeling a little too intimate. She diverts her eyes, and her gaze automatically lands on Jeongguk. His face is immediately wiped from what, for a split second, looked like fright. Worry. He’s back to indifference, looking behind his shoulders, and she figures she must have imagined it.

”Can you walk?” Namjoon’s voice pulls her back, his figure now standing tall in front of her. She nods, shaking off the overwhelment, and assures she’s okay. Namjoon doesn’t believe her until she’s forced to take a walking test, going back and forth for one minute before he’s fully convinced she hasn’t twisted her ankle or anything.

When they set off again, laughter bubbles up between them as Namjoon cheekily makes fun of her squeal and her clumsiness, and Eunbi lightly shoves him. She’s glad she’s going through this with him; it’s making them closer and she finds they have so much more in common than she initially thought.

For a moment, she regrets not even sitting down for a second to rest, her feet protesting in her old Converses, but she quickly realises the other alternative and prefers having her legs hurt over being in the presence of Jeongguk, surrounded by quiet, and nature, and all the possible existent reasons to be kind to each other. Which they’re not really planning on doing, right now.

Even more with Iseul there. Eunbi doesn’t know why, but something about the girl rubs her the wrong way. It’s not like they ever got a chance to bond, but it feels like Iseul hasn’t even tried. They don’t have anything against each other, but the way she’s sticking to Jeongguk’s side after yesterday’s fiasco brings Eunbi to not really contemplate the possibility of them getting closer either.

The trail descends into a different path of the forest, this one denser and cooler, providing the duo with a break from the midday heat. Their pace is slower, and the talking quiets down too in favour of soaking in the tranquillity that surrounds them. Eunbi feels herself recover from the previous slip and sighs, this time contentedly.

The peace doesn’t last for long. Behind her shoulders, her ears pick up hurried footsteps, the cracking of the leaves stronger under them, the unmistakable sound of someone catching up. Eunbi doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she can sense his presence like an itch she can’t scratch. Jeongguk reaches her, his voice almost touching her neck, “Can you move out of the way?”

There’s plenty of space. Hell, the path could fit five trucks. Her eyes close momentarily, searching for all the strength she needs to resist the provocation. She steps aside, set on not paying him too much mind. She doesn’t want to be affected by his tone. She’s decided to let him be, and think what he wants of her.

Jeongguk doesn’t seem too fond of the silence he’s met with, though. Was probably expecting her witty impulses to react. But she ignores him. He walks past her, but it looks like his initial aim at surpassing her goes forgotten. His steps are shorter, not covering big distances anymore and keeping him at an arm’s length from her, Iseul beside him oblivious to the tension.

He looks back after Eunbi thought he would limit himself to the snappy tone, but she was wrong, obviously, the glint in his eyes daring her to respond, “Wow, you’re really slow.”

Eunbi tries not to snap, she really tries. Thinks of brushing the comment with a simple dismissing chuckle, pretending it doesn’t make her hand twitch. Her tongue poke her inner cheek. But it’s like the minimal sight of him gets her burning with annoyance.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t aware this was a marathon. Good luck winning!” Is this enough of a bitch answer? She hopes so, the smile that accompanies it deathly sarcastic. She just doesn’t want to deal with Jeongguk after last night. Fears the resentment is still too alive for her to handle it better.

Of course, he doesn’t back down from a good childish banter, though, “You’re still slow.”

”Well, I’m trekking.”

”And you’re seriously wearing Converses to do that.” His eyes fall to her feet with a delighted scoff. He’s unbelievable.

”So sorry I couldn’t afford trekking shoes.” The concern is clearly faked, and she hopes she just imagined Jeongguk rolling his eyes subtly.

”That’s why you’re slow.” He has the audacity to raise his eyebrows and shrug at Eunbi’s speechless state, the argument resulting in the dumbest interaction she’s had in days, leaving her pissed nonetheless.

Jeongguk rewinds his fast paced walk, not really considering poor Iseul trying to keep up with him. Both her and Namjoon are left disoriented with the meaningless bickering they found themselves spectators of, but they wisely stay silent to prevent stirring the pot further.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t even notice the sudden quiet, the thoughts screaming in her brain making up for it. She feels completely blindsided. All those times she tried to make even the smallest kind of conversation with him, she was ignored. Her smiles, kind requests and efforts to maintain a friendly demeanour— completely fucking dismissed. And now, just when she’d decided the best thing she could do for both of them was to back off, to give them each the space they needed to avoid any further animosity, what does he do? He searches for it. Purposefully searches for it, as if he wants to provoke some kind of reaction out of her. She’s so fed up. What’s his deal? Why seek out conflict when they were finally starting to find some semblance of peace in their indifference? It’s infuriating. She can’t help the small growl of frustration that escapes her lips. God, what an asshole.

A small scoff from Namjoon pulls her out of her daze, and she glances his way, her face a picture of confusion and irritation. The boy shakes his head, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips, “He can be, sometimes.”

It’s only then that she realises she must have muttered her last thought out loud. She laughs softly at her slip, sheepishly brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that. We’re just… not exactly on good terms, right now.”

Namjoon is silent as her admission hangs in the air, unpressured. Instead, he just nods, his eyes reflecting a quiet empathy, inviting but not intrusive. He’s giving her the choice, whether she wishes to open up or carry that baggage on her own. It’s not like he’s oblivious to the tension between her and Jeongguk; the whole group would agree it has been evident ever since Eunbi joined. But neither she nor Jeongguk offered any explanations, so there was no choice but to adapt to the hostility. Dahye had only once hinted at the fact that they’d known each other for a long time, letting it slip casually, much to Eunbi’s silent dismay, but beyond that, no other details were ever shared.

Eunbi hesitates. She trusts Namjoon, the way she trusts the others, really— would vomit all her feelings on his t-shirt right now. But it wouldn’t feel right to give only her side of the story, knowing Jeongguk has lived in the dark about certain truths for years. He probably harbours his own complicated feelings, ones he’s kept close to his chest for a long time, feelings that would be overshadowed by her own if she spoke out of turn. She doesn’t think it’s her place to say what happened.

The silence stretches on, and Eunbi is more conflicted with each passing second. Her eyes drift to the figure of Jeongguk moving farther away, his silhouette becoming smaller with every step until he rounds a corner and disappears from view. With him goes the moment, the possibility of Namjoon ever knowing what happened, at least from her. He seems to accept this, doesn’t push her to speak, and she appreciates it when he shifts the conversation, making a light-hearted comment about the trees and their unusual shapes. She smiles.

The afternoon sun beats down on them, making the air thick and sticky. Time drags on, more hours roll by, the trail winding endlessly through the woods. They find spots to sit now and then, taking short breaks to catch their breath. But the further they trek, the more Eunbi grows frustrated. Her calves ache, muscles burning from the climb, and she has to stop every so often to rub at them, cursing under her breath. Namjoon forces himself to not laugh at that, instead keeping his usual calm and patient, assuring her with a grin that they’re almost there. Though she’s pretty sure he’s just saying that to keep her spirits up.

Eventually, their slow pace brings them closer to some of the others who had lagged behind. They all wear the same weary expressions, the exhaustion etched into their features. They try to relieve some of it by distracting themselves from the thought of their feet hurting, one of them starting a game of Guess the Song by humming the melody. It quickly dissolves into a mess of off-key notes and missed beats, their tired brains unable to keep up, and it’s not long before they’re all laughing. The kind of belly laughs that make your sides ache.

Eunbi finds herself genuinely enjoying the moment, forgetting all about asking to sit down every five minutes, even catching herself humming along. She discovers Taehyung has quite a talent for singing, and notices how blatantly obvious Aera’s crush on him is.

By the time they finally reach the campsite, Eunbi feels a wave of relief wash over her, so strong it nearly brings tears to her eyes. The sun has started its descent, casting a golden glow over the clearing, and the heat of the day is beginning to be replaced by a cool, refreshing breeze that lifts the hair from her sweaty neck. She falls into step beside Dahye, who has reappeared after what feels like hours spent with Jimin. They don’t need words; they walk side by side in silence, until the shorter one bumps her shoulder lightly against Dahye’s, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shut up,” the taller one rolls her eyes at the unspoken tease, though the grin on her face suggests she’s anything but annoyed.

Eunbi’s hands are immediately up in the air, mocking innocence, ”Didn’t say a single word.”

”Sure, you didn’t.” Dahye retorts, but her tone is playful. “Anyways, the others want to hit the lake before dinner. You in?”

”I’ll pass. I need a nap. I’m dead tired from all this. When I catch Hoseok, I swear.” Eunbi’s voice is half-joking, half-serious, her narrowed eyes suggesting she may be even a bit too serious, and Dahye just laughs.

They part ways, Eunbi disappearing in her tent and relishing the thought of a few quiet moments to herself. As much as she loves the company, sometimes it drains her. Sometimes, she just needs a moment to breathe, be with her own self and nobody else. Especially given the amount of times her sanity has been tested during the first two days of this trip.

Sleep comes to her easily, pulling her under as soon as her head hits the small, makeshift pillow. The muffled sounds of her friends outside — splashes from the lake, bursts of laughter — soothe her into a deep, much-needed, dreamless rest.

When she stirs awake, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, and she can feel the noises from the group much closer now. The air is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat and vegetables, and it’s said delicious smell that puts her five senses to operate again. Her stomach grumbling wakes her before Dahye can, the tent flaps open just as her friend was about to poke her head inside.

Eunbi blinks awake groggily, stumbling out bleary-eyed, and Dahye mercilessly laughs at her still half-asleep face, “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

”Fuck you.”

The teasing is playful, and Eunbi cheekily grins as her friend giggles. She wraps a hoodie around her shoulders to ward off the growing chill and keep some of the warmth from the nap, then makes her way to the fire where the others are gathered. When they take in her sleep-dazed state, they don’t miss a beat and start poking fun at her, pulling her hood up over her head or sneakily tickling her sides until she’s laughing despite herself. The laughter feels good, like a release, and she finds herself slowly waking up, becoming more aware, more present.

A large campfire crackles in the centre of the group, its flames dancing in the cool evening air, Yoongi and Seokjin in charge of dinner. Someone’s turned on a portable speaker, and soft music drifts through the campsite, blending with the sounds of laughter and the sizzle of food. Eunbi sits back, letting the warmth of the fire seep into her skin, content to simply listen, to watch the way the firelight plays across everyone’s faces.

It’s almost too easy to relax into the peaceful rhythm of the evening, her still vulnerable brain unwinding the tension she wasn’t aware of from her shoulders. The heat of the fire, the hum of laughter, and the quiet murmur of conversation blend together, creating a cocoon of comfort she hadn’t realised she needed. It’s as she starts letting herself be taken over by that familiar, soothing calm — the same one she’d found in her tent — that a faint alarm goes off in her brain. Its tiny beep only grows louder until it’s impossible to ignore. Something’s off. Her contentment feels misplaced. Like she’s forgotten a crucial detail that’s only now creeping back into her awareness.

The realisation slams into her like a wave, jolting her fully awake, the moment her gaze lands on Jeongguk. Suddenly, everything snaps back into sharp focus. His face, illuminated by the flickering firelight, is a stark reminder of the reality she had temporarily escaped. The events of the past few days come rushing back. Right, quick recap: she’s on Jeongguk’s birthday trip. Jeongguk, who can’t stand the sight of her. Jeongguk, who had called her a bitch last night. How could she almost forget that minor detail?

So here she is, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by friends and food, but all she can focus on is Jeongguk. The one person here who probably wishes she wasn’t. No sense dwelling on it now, though. She’s there, there’s no going back. Her only aim is to make it through the night. Make it through the night without repeating yesterday, or making things even worse. For that to happen, she just has to ignore the object of her epiphany like she has been trying to ever since the stressful day started. She hopes he’ll be smart enough to do the same.

It seems like it when dinner goes by without any notable tension, which is a small miracle in itself. Jeongguk seems just as engrossed by the food as she is, its hot, comforting and delicious taste being a welcome distraction, especially with that distinct smoky flavour from being cooked over the open fire. Everyone is too busy devouring their meals to talk much, but their sparkling eyes speak with gratitude for their hyungs’ magic hands. Eunbi uses the unusual quiet to gaze up at the sky, the stars slowly coming out to dot its darkening blue.

Though, peace never lasts long with this group. Jimin breaks the silence as he cracks open a beer bottle with a grin that spells mischief, “Let’s play a game.”

Taehyung, already leaning back in his chair with a lazy smile, nods, chiming in, “Since we’ve got alcohol, how about Never Have I Ever?”

”Just don’t ask stupid questions because you want to get drunk,” Dahye warns, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her comment earns a round of laughter, easing the tension that had settled during the quiet, their voices soon overtaking the crackling of the fire once again.

Jimin hands the beer bottles, making sure everyone has one as he sits back with a teasing glint in his gaze. He locks eyes with Dahye, challenging her, “Okay, I got the perfect one, then. Never have I ever… pooped.”

The absurdity of the statement catches the others off guard, and they all erupt in silly chuckles, taking a sip. Except for Dahye, who sits there with a perfectly straight face. Jimin raises an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for her to drink, but she just shrugs, “Girls don’t poop.”

The girls echo her sentiment with mock seriousness, filling the camp with sarcastic agreements and playful banter, while a debate kicks off between Dahye and Jimin about the biological impossibility of her assertion. It’s cut short when Iseul eagerly starts smacking Jeongguk’s thigh by her side, her excitement palpable and getting everyone’s attention in the process, “Ooh, I got one! Never have I ever stolen something.”

Most of the group drinks at that, Yoongi snorting blatantly, and Iseul frowns in disappointment, expecting a different outcome. Dahye chuckles, “Babe, everyone’s stolen at some point. That was too easy. It’s okay, let’s just keep going. Jeongguk, your turn.”

Next to Iseul, Jeongguk seems to think for a moment, then he grins, “Never have I ever… rode a motorcycle.” He gulps down a big sip from his bottle.

”Are you looking to get drunk tonight, Ggukie?” It’s his best friend teasing him with wiggling eyebrows, and the younger just shrugs with a lazy smirk.

Eunbi drinks too, at that. Now that she thinks of it, the first and only time she was on a bike, Jeongguk was taking her home and she was holding her arms tight around his torso, his helmet secured under her chin and his jacket wrapped around her body. That’s the last nice gesture she’s seen from him, and the thought stirs something complicated in her chest. She glances at him without meaning to, catching his eye for just a second before they both look away.

Hoseok is quick with another question, “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”

Only Seokjin and Sora drink, and the group teases them with a long, exaggerated holler. The two love birds share a sheepish smile, their faces turning a soft shade of pink under the firelight.

”We should all do that right now.” It’s Taehyung proposing it, his tone half-serious, half-challenging.

Dahye pulls a face, “The thought alone is making me want to vomit.” She mutters, and the laughter that follows becomes the soundtrack of their night for what feels like hours, the game stretching on with each question getting weirder and more personal.

The beer flows freely, and Eunbi finds herself relaxing more than she expected, her body sinking comfortably into her chair. She laughs at Hoseok’s ridiculous question about eating bugs and groans at Jimin recalling the time he laughed so hard he pissed his pants as an adult, sipping on her bottle as the group continues to tease one another.

The loop restarts for the nth time, Iseul piping up again, “Never have I ever sneaked out.”

Surprisingly, only Namjoon, Jeongguk and Eunbi drink this time. The reaction is immediate, the group’s interest piqued, Dahye curiously turning to her friend, “When was that, Bibi?”

Eunbi doesn’t register the implications of her light giggle, nor the way her eyes soften as she gets caught up in the memory, “Back when I was in middle school.” Young and restless, desperate for the thrill. Besides her forever best friend.

Always a bit more noisy than he should be, Hoseok chimes in, “Were you with anyone?”

She chuckles, the answer coming to her lips almost instinctively, “Oh, I was with—“ Her gaze flickers to Jeongguk, and suddenly the smile drops from her face. Right. She always seems to forget where they stand now. It’s like the kid inside her is still desperately clinging to those moments, fighting to have him back, to drag him into her orbit.

Jeongguk lets out a small scoff, barely audible over the crackling fire, but she catches it. His expression is closed off, guarded. Eunbi clears her throat, “Huh, it doesn’t matter.”

The air grows thick with tension, the silence that follows almost deafening. Some of them understand the awkwardness, sensing the history that neither Eunbi nor Jeongguk ever fully explained. Others, like Hoseok, are a little clueless. He turns to the other boy, grinning like a cat who caught the canary, “Ooh, Ggukie, you drank too, right? Who was it with?”

Jeongguk shrugs, a dark, unamused smirk spreading across his lips. His eyes don’t leave Eunbi, his tone sarcastic but cold, “Apparently, it doesn’t matter.”

The affronted girl narrows her eyes, trying to mask the sting of his tone. The jab hits deeper than she’d like to admit, even more when they both know exactly why she said that. Why she had to say it. Unspeakable words are plastered on their wounded expressions, but she looks down at her hands before her heart betrays her, fighting its way up her throat to scream them all out.

It’s ironic how the questions that follow feel like one stab after the other, almost purposefully touching a raw nerve from the past, memories she’d rather not revisit now. Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush. Never have I ever climbed out a window. It’s small, silly moments that she knows — hopes — Jeongguk remembers too. And she can’t help but search for that sign of recognition in his face. Or anything, at this point. The slightest spark in his eyes. The imperceptible jolt of his hand. She wants to tell him. It matters. It matters. It matters.

But does it matter to him now? Did every single piece of the puzzle get lost in the storm? Did Jeongguk always feel so unreachable? Were his eyes always so devoid of light when he looked at her? She misses stargazing.

When the weight on her heart becomes too much to bear, the weariness from the day and the effects of the sleepless night tangling with the complicated emotions she’s feeling and translating into frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, she gets up muttering a half-hearted excuse about being tired and heads for her tent.

Inside, focusing on the fabric ceiling rather than both her heart and brain exceptionally teaming up only to scream at her to find a way to escape from all this (maybe steal Namjoon’s car keys, or swim her way back to the city), she wills her eyes to close and begs whatever god who might be listening to spare her from more misery. Just for tomorrow. Please.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The divinities Eunbi tried to reach with her desperate pleas must have been terribly busy last night, because tomorrow is here and it’s charged with even more tension and hostility than she thought they could ever harbour for one another.

Today’s activity is canoeing, and with the surprisingly adequate amount of sleep she managed to get, her first approach is even optimistic. She’s decided to start off with the positive mindset that things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Sat in the small two-person canoe, she’s determined to steer the day in a better direction, to navigate the rough waters of their fraught relationship. Even if a new wave of something worse than what already happened is aimed directly at her, she’d be able to handle it.

Only thing she didn’t exactly consider was the counterpart of the clash possibly not sharing the same intentions as hers. Which is exactly what is happening, Jeongguk never backing down from stirring the pot further only to obtain a rank, grisly soup made with pettiness and resentment, spoon-feeding it to her with every chance he gets. Though she can still say she’s tasted worse from him, the bitterness lingers, coating her tongue like bile.

The setting for their little showdown is picturesque, almost mockingly so. The river glimmers under the afternoon sun, its surface reflecting a golden hue that dances across the water, and the hills in the distance are bathed in a soft, amber glow. Nature itself is trying to soothe the tension, yet it only seems to amplify the dissonance. The universe must be testing her. Can you handle this one, Bee?

The group naturally splits off into pairs, reflecting yesterday’s layout, with Eunbi and Namjoon finding themselves navigating together, just as Dahye is with Jimin, and Jeongguk with Iseul. It starts off peacefully enough. They glide slowly along the river, their paddles dipping gently into the water, the only sound the quiet murmurs of conversation and the occasional splash.

Eunbi allows herself to relax. She chuckles at Namjoon’s poor attempts at taking aesthetically pleasing pictures of her, then shows him how it’s done when she points the camera at him, sealing the moment with a lovely shot of her friend enveloped in an ochre light, his dimples sheepishly showing. She grazes the cold water with her finger, getting lost in the simple way it dances with her movements. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up to the sun, letting its warmth seep into her skin.

Though she should have anticipated the serenity being almost surreal, and should have considered herself deranged to even think it could continue like that. She’s pulled out of her moment when the water beside her canoe suddenly churns with agitation.

What she sees on her right is a sight that throws all the optimism and positivity from this morning right in the bin, and replaces it with the effects of Jeongguk’s wicked soup. Said chef shoots past her at an unnecessary, almost reckless speed for what’s supposed to be a leisurely excursion among friends. His canoe slices through the water with aggressive precision, sending ripples crashing against Eunbi’s boat. See, she would keep her composure in any other situation; would continue straight on her path of ignoring him, no matter how unsuccessful the previous attempts had been. She’s afraid she’ll keep failing, though.

And it’s really just because when she sees how he’s paddling with a furious intensity, his muscles straining with effort while Iseul is squealing and screaming in front of him, her hands gripping the sides of the boat as she begs him to slow down, it’s clear Jeongguk is doing it on purpose. Acting out another one of his plans to get a reaction out of her, not caring how down things could go at that point. Why should she, then? It’s when his eyes lock onto hers as he passes, daring to push all her buttons, that she finds her answer.

Eunbi’s blood boils. She’s speechless with the immaturity, but best believe she’s coming on ten times stronger with it. She just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that it seems the more she tries to interact with him, the more she gets pushed away; but the more she keeps her distance, the more he seeks for her reaction. What is he trying to prove? What is he aiming to get out of her? Eunbi doesn’t exactly have time to entertain the moral, rational part of her brain and puzzle over his motives, her own childishness busying her with gripping the paddles tight, her knuckles turning white as she channels all her frustration into rowing. She puts all the strength she can muster to try and catch up to Jeongguk without popping a vein. Namjoon notices the sudden shift in pace, even if minimal with Eunbi’s laughable efforts at moving faster, nonetheless startled by the abrupt burst of energy.

”Bi, what are you—“

”Joon, help me overtake Gguk.” It’s said through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, fixated only on the target ahead. Namjoon is disoriented. Does she even realise the use of the nickname? It doesn’t look like that as she keeps going undeterred, even with her companion initially not collaborating, too confused to settle on what to do. Eventually, he sighs and grips his own paddle, deciding to help his friend in whatever battle she’s waging. He glances back to see just how far Jeongguk has gotten and shakes his head.

”You two are literal kids, you do know that?” Namjoon mutters, his comment going ignored.

Jeongguk, meanwhile, senses them closing in. A competitive glint flashes in his eyes. He doubles down, paddling harder, sending more water splashing in every direction. Eunbi isn't far behind, and for a moment it feels like they’re the only two on the river, locked in this ridiculous race. They’re both too stubborn to back down, too caught up in their own challenge to notice how idiotic they look.

Namjoon sighs again, raising his voice over the chaos, “Guys, seriously, this is getting out of hand.”

Iseul echoes his concern, a nervous edge to her voice, “Yeah, Joon’s right. Please, Ggukkie? We’re getting too far away from the others. It’s going to be a nightmare rowing back!”

Her whines go unnoticed by Jeongguk, who keeps his gaze straight on Eunbi as she has managed to catch up and is now beside him, mirroring that same flame in her orbs. He distractly acknowledges the two innocent spectators, “I just wanted to go and see… that thing over there.” He calls back, voice strained as he keeps his eyes locked on his rival. He doesn’t even know what he’s pointing at— there’s nothing but more water and distant trees.

”Oh, that… thing,” Eunbi adds, equally unconvincing. They exchange a glance, both wearing narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, determined not to be the first to admit defeat.

Their canoes race neck and neck, the water splashing around them as if reflecting the tension in the air. It’s a childish competition, one that speaks to their unresolved feelings, both wanting to interact, to be noticed by the other, but neither willing to show it’s because they care.

And mostly, it’s messy. Definitely not what two people should be attempting to do on their first time canoeing. On one side, their inexperience comes handy as it doesn’t completely isolate them from the starting point, but it still shouldn’t be happening. And it becomes more and more frantic as shown by their drawn faces and clumsy movements. A disaster of any kind should have been predicted at any second from that only.

It happens when Jeongguk leans too far over the edge, his canoe wobbling dangerously. Iseul lets out a high-pitched scream, gripping the sides of the boat. Eunbi’s heart leaps into her throat, all thoughts of their petty race forgotten in an instant.

“Gguk, careful!” She shouts, her voice thick with concern. Without thinking, she reaches out with her paddle, trying to steady his canoe from a distance. For a moment, everything else falls away— the tension, the bickering, the hurt. All she sees is him, about to fall, and her instinct to protect him kicks in.

Jeongguk manages to regain his balance just in time, his canoe righting itself with a lurch. Everything pauses. He lets out a breath of relief, a small, surprised chuckle escaping his lips. Eunbi exhales too, a soft, almost involuntary smile forming on her face. It lasts a second, but it feels like more when they share a look different from all the others. Relief. I’m glad you’re safe. Recognition. Thank you. Stillness.

But then reality snaps back into place. They both realise what they’re doing, and their expressions harden almost simultaneously. Eunbi quickly looks away, her face flushing with embarrassment. Jeongguk mutters, self-reproaching, “God, this is so stupid.”

The brief moment of softness vanishes the instant Eunbi catches his words, and she snaps, her voice rising childishly with indignation, “You started this!”

Jeongguk scoffs, “Me? You’re the one who wanted to overtake me!”

“You were the one paddling like a maniac!”

“I literally almost fell in the water because of you.”

Eunbi’s eyes get unbelievably wider with disbelief, a sarcastic laugh escaping her, “Oh, that was not because of me. That’s because you are incompetent.”

“Don’t throw big words at me now.”

“Sorry, I’ll lower my vocabulary down for you to understand.”

The childish bickering stretches on for astonishingly long minutes, the volume of their voices rising over the gentle sounds of the river. Namjoon, who had been rowing quietly, finally has enough. With a frustrated sigh, he takes the paddles and makes it his own solo mission to row back toward the others by himself, muttering under his breath, “I can’t believe I have to do this.”

His comment is mostly drowned out by the relentless sparring between Eunbi and Jeongguk, who are too engrossed in their argument to notice that Namjoon is now paddling alone, their strained voices echoing across the water. Jeongguk even goes as far as to row his canoe back behind his hyung’s just so he can have the last word in. It’s ridiculous, really— a silly argument born from a place neither of them is willing to acknowledge.

“Wow, that’s real mature of you, Eunbi. What’s next, you gonna stick your tongue out at me?”

She bristles, her cheeks flushing with the effort the rage is taking out of her, “I might as well if you keep acting like a dick!”

Jeongguk sneers, “Oh, please. I’m not the one who started this whole stupid race.”

Eunbi is aware the more she keeps it going, the more she’ll fall right into his trap but she fears she’s already too deep to back down now, “You were showing off!”

“And you were just so jealous you couldn’t stand it.”

“Enough! Both of you!” It’s Namjoon who finally snaps, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. He gives the oars a decisive pull, the canoe cutting through the water with renewed force. His voice is stern, and much different from the calm tone Eunbi has grown accustomed to, his patience had clearly worn thin, “I can’t believe I’m stuck in the middle of this… whatever this is. My ears are bleeding. If you two want to sort out whatever childish feud you’re having, do it on dry land. And away from me.”

The sudden authority in the older guy’s voice silences them both, and the quiet that falls upon them is as much a blessing as deafening. There’s a beat of awkward tension as they both realise how ridiculous they must look. Two grown adults behaving like squabbling children and shut down by their yelling, frustrated father. The reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. They’re too far from the rest of the group, their petty race having pulled them far off, all because of their stubbornness and bruised egos.

What follows is what should have surrounded them right from the beginning, stillness only interrupted by the flushing of the water as it gets caressed by their paddles rowing back to their initial position. Eunbi’s face burns with embarrassment, and with the realisation of how low she’s stooped. The urge to apologise to Namjoon itches at the back of her throat, but pride prevents her from doing it in front of Jeongguk.

No one dares add a word, not even a breath too loud, the tension lingering but now tinged with a sense of shame. Other than the rhythmic splash of their oars and the distant laughter of their friends, the only sound that can be occasionally heard is Namjoon’s bewildered scoffs and muttered comments. The other two know better than to cut the thin thread they’re all clutching onto.

But the chop comes, and it’s Iseul’s voice breaking the silence, soft and tentative, “You know, we’re all here to have fun. Can we just… try to get along for a little while?”

Eunbi has to bite her tongue. Otherwise, she fears any words that might leave her lips could permanently push Iseul away from the already slim possibility of them becoming friends. She keeps her eyes closed, a long exhale escaping her lips, irritation flaring up at the simplicity of the comment. As if it hadn’t already crossed her mind that they should be getting along. What a genius idea, truly.

Jeongguk seems to notice the tense silence that follows, especially the tightness in Eunbi’s expression and how Iseul’s well-meaning comment has only added fuel to the fire. He turns to his companion and offers her a reassuring smile, even if it feels a bit forced, “It’s okay, Isu. Let’s just head back.” His tone is gentle, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere, the nod that accompanies it recognising her effort, as well as its effective uselessness.

Taking in Jeongguk’s unnecessary, oversweet tone towards the other girl involuntarily causes Eunbi to scoff audibly, the sound loud and deliberate, followed by nothing. She keeps her gaze fixed on the water, refusing to look at either of them. But she feels Jeongguk’s narrowed eyes on her, “What now?”

”Nothing,” Eunbi mutters, the sarcasm in her tone cutting through the air. “Just love how you can turn on the charm when it suits you.”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens for what feels like the nth time, fearing a possible cramp soon affecting the muscles of his mouth, but he keeps his response measured, “I’m just trying to not make this worse.”

A fake coo follows, Eunbi’s voice mockingly replicating his sudden calmness, “Oh, how nice of you, Ggukkie.”

“For the love of God, will you two drop it? Please?” Namjoon’s frustrated groan interrupts once again the bickering from stretching on, his patience truly at its limit. He increases the pace of his rowing, as if trying to physically distance himself from the scene.

The uncomfortable silence lingers for the rest of the paddling back, and it stretches on endlessly, mirroring the distance they’ve travelled in their pointless, self-inflicted race. If it isn’t the consequences of their own stupid actions. Eunbi dips her paddle in the water with more intention, fixating on the ripples spread out from each stroke, refusing to meet Namjoon’s annoyed gaze. She’s ashamed of the way she’s let her emotions and bottled up feelings rule a situation that could have been easily avoided, though she stubbornly refuses to fully acknowledge it, let alone admit that she might be in the wrong.

Still, Eunbi uses the time it gets to reach the shore to work on her breathing, counting every pause between her exhales, willing to free her mind from the chaotic flow of thoughts before she regrets letting them cling to her like a shadow and cause a bigger scene. The sight of the land approaching should bring some relief, but instead it only amplifies the sense of urgency gnawing at her. The moment the canoe nudges against the land, the sun beginning its descent, bathing the landscape in a warm light, Eunbi wastes no time making herself aware of her surroundings, as she’s already on her feet, moving with a speed that betrays her desperation to escape the tension that’s been suffocating her.

She’s unsteady as she steps out, the ground feeling oddly solid beneath her after the wobbly rhythm of the canoe. Namjoon notices her haste and instinctively reaches out to steady her, but she’s stepping away, her shoes sinking into the damp shore.

”I’m going back to the campsite,” Eunbi says, her voice clipped, the words barely more than a whisper after the raw shouting followed by complete muteness.

Namjoon, still seated, frowns as he looks up at her. Concern clouds his features, and he’s quick to offer, “Wait for me, I’ll take you back.”

Eunbi shakes her head, her refusal as gentle as it is resolute. A tight-lipped smile plays on her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You should stay and enjoy the rest of the day.”

There’s a sheepish, unspoken apology written in her eyes, a fleeting look of regret that she’s too proud to voice. She unconsciously scrunches her nose, a telltale sign of her lingering embarrassment, and doesn’t even register Namjoon’s nod as she turns to start walking, eager to put distance between herself and the situation, but mostly from Jeongguk’s attentive eyes still throwing jabs her way.

As she walks back to the tents, Eunbi’s mind is already racing ahead to dinner. It’s been her biggest concern for a while now, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach, an instinctive dread that tonight will go as badly as she fears. Dinner always seems to bring out the worst in them, the frustration of the day simmering just below the surface until it boils over and erupts in sharp words and bitter exchanges. She can feel that exact feeling brewing dangerously in her stomach, but she knows she’d rather suppress it than have it consume her completely only for more pieces of her heart to break.

Dropping onto one of the deck chairs around the campsite, she waits for it to dissipate with her knees up to her chest. It’s hard at first, the sudden quiet too loud and overwhelming her with the pent up exasperation from today. It only fuels that part of her that still hasn’t moved on from the very first night, the one that set the tone for everything that followed, who harbours anger and spite for what Jeongguk had spat in her face with apparently no remorse. She wants to get back at him, to make him regret those words, to hurt him as much as he’s hurt her. But the bigger, remaining part of her knows she’s already done enough of that.

Would it even be worthy? What would she gain from it? Would getting back at Jeongguk truly bring her any peace, or would it only deepen the rift between them? She knows the answer, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Normally, she wouldn’t let any other person get away so easily with such a comment, but with Jeongguk, she’s aware he has lived with worse feelings for years, and that probably isn’t even the worst of what his heart holds. She’s not ready to wake that monster. Doesn’t know if she’s prepared to confront the truth behind the look he gives her. Doesn’t want to know if that truth is dictated by resentment, or if it’s all that’s left of her in Jeongguk’s view. Because if she’s honest with herself, no matter how angry she is, she can’t deny that she understands why he feels this way. And that understanding, more than anything, is what terrifies her the most.

Hours slip by in a blur, Eunbi stilling on her chair and giving space for her thoughts to unleash before it’s too late to put a collar back on again. The sun continues its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and when it dips down the horizon, the campfire that has been just a pile of logs earlier is now crackling with life, its warmth spreading through the group as they gather for dinner. The smell of grilled food wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest and the cool breeze.

It’s a comforting atmosphere, one that’s filled with laughter and easy conversation, but Eunbi is yet to be shaken out her trance to realise none of what she fears is reflecting in the reality surrounding her. Only when Dahye finds a spot on the seat next to hers and launches into a breathless retelling of apparently the craziest experience she’s had so far during the trip earlier at the river, Eunbi reconnects with the present, and disconnects from the almost maniac way she’s been analysing her thoughts alone all evening.

As she follows Dahye’s lips moving, acknowledging her with small nods and chuckles that the storytelling gets out of her, she finds she’s been making one huge mistake all this while. She’s always been so wrapped up in her own fears, her need to control the narrative and anticipate the next emotional blow, that she’s missed the simple reality of what’s unfolding around her. The night easily moves forward without the weight of her expectations pressing down on it.

Maybe she doesn’t have to anticipate every move, every subtle shift in the atmosphere. Maybe she doesn’t have to keep trying to predict what Jeongguk might say or how the night might fall apart. For the first time, she lets herself be present— really present. She lets herself feel the warmth of the fire, hear the laughter of her friends without reading too much into it, lets herself stop preparing for a storm that isn’t coming.

There’s a quiet revelation in that. Tonight, she doesn’t want to brace herself for another argument or another disappointment. She can simply allow the peace of the moment to wash over her, instead of waiting for the worse. And by the time the stars are twinkling overhead and her tummy is full, she allows herself to let go of the anger and just be.

It’s when they start another one of their games that she fully lets her guard down and doesn’t focus on anything in particular, just how genuine her laughs resound in her own ears. Once again, it’s Jimin suggesting it, eyes twinkling, “How about a story-telling challenge? We each say one line and keep the story going around the circle.”

Eunbi chuckles and nods, feeling a flicker of excitement at the idea. It’s been a while since she’s done something as silly and spontaneous. They all shuffle closer, forming a tight circle around the fire, the flickering flames dancing in their eyes. Taehyung starts them off, his voice solemn as he leans in, “Once upon a time, in a forest much like this one, there was a squirrel who could sing opera.”

It’s impossible to keep straight faces at first, but they all try. The mock-seriousness in Taehyung’s tone only makes it funnier, and the story takes off from there, spiralling into absurdity. Hoseok follows up, voice filled with faux sorrow, “And this squirrel, right? He had a tragic backstory. He lost his most precious acorn in a dramatic flood.”

The more the tale escalates, the more their giggles can’t be stopped, with the squirrel also being a secret agent for a woodland spy network side by side with his best friend, a tap-dancing raccoon who dreamed of opening a dance studio in the big city. Seokjin adds that the talented animal was also training to perform in a world-renowned animal talent show, but was being sabotaged by a jealous porcupine who could juggle flaming pinecones.

Yoongi, usually the voice of reason, surprisingly leans into the layers of idiocy rather than trying to steer it back to some semblance of order, “The porcupine is actually being helped by an evil ninja rabbit who only speaks in riddles.” His voice carries a playful tone, and Eunbi can’t help but reflect his same look on her own face— unforced, genuine.

The fire crackles louder in response, almost as if laughing along with them and cheering them on. By the time the story comes back around to Jimin, he leans in with a grin caught up in the fun, “And then! The raccoon finally achieves his dream of opening a dance school in the city where all the animals can learn tap-dancing and perform in the biggest talent show ever.”

There’s a beat of silence before they all burst out laughing again, though this time it’s mixed with good-natured teasing. Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head, “Okay, now you’re just projecting.“

Hoseok, grinning from ear to ear, chimes in, “Yeah, come on, you’re turning this into your own personal dream story.”

Taehyung, never missing a beat, adds, “Next thing you know, you’ll have the raccoon choreographing the whole animal kingdom.”

The teasing banter continues, the group’s laughter bouncing off the trees. But Eunbi, still a little out of sync with their inside jokes, blinks in confusion, “Wait, what? What do you mean, reflecting yourself?”

The laughter fades, and Jimin turns to her, a bit of a sheepish grin on his face, “Oh, it’s just… I’ve always loved dancing. It’s been a silly dream of mine to— you know, maybe open a dance studio when I’m older.”

Eunbi’s eyes widen, genuine surprise lighting her features, “Wow, I had no idea. That’s so cool, Jimin! Seriously, I didn’t know that about you.”

There’s a brief, awkward pause, in which Jimin’s smile softens at her reaction, but before he can say anything more, Jeongguk scoffs audibly. The sound cuts through the moment like a sharp blade. He’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowing at Eunbi with something between disdain and frustration but his tone unbothered, “That’s basic Jimin knowledge. Everyone knows that.”

Once again, Eunbi couldn’t have anticipated Jeongguk being on a completely different agenda. She should have known, she’s aware of that. But she hadn’t wanted to. She only wanted to go by the foolish belief that tonight would be different. That just for one evening they could coexist in the same space, be civil, even share a laugh.

It was a naive hope. And now, standing crosshairs of Jeongguk’s fiery glaze, not only with the glow of the flames, she realises just how mistaken she’s been. How stupid it was of her to think Jeongguk wouldn’t jump at the possibility of adding fuel to the fire. Because, right now, she finds herself utterly unprepared to read his clenched jaw, contrasting with the careless, almost indifferent posture he tries to maintain. She struggles to predict how it might develop if she uses a slightly different tone, or takes more time to respond.

She doesn’t remember moving around Jeongguk ever being this difficult. The physical closeness forced upon them by this trip only makes the emotional distance between them more glaring. They might be sitting around the same campfire, but it’s clear from the way he bristles at her every word, every gesture, that in Jeongguk’s mind, she’s universes away. And it’s exactly where he wants her to stay. No spaceship will bring her back. There’s nowhere she can land on his planet.

Eunbi’s exhaustion reaches its breaking point. She’s tired of pretending she’s okay with this. Fed up with letting remorse gnaw at her insides and reduce her to a punching bag for his barely-contained rage. Willing to take every fist thrown her way, rendering her vulnerable to his every attempt at breaking her down. Though what she feels is not resentment. It’s pure, bone-deep weariness. She doesn’t want to take this tug of war any further. If letting go of the idea of fixing things between them is what he wants, she’ll give him that.

With a sigh, she lowers her gaze to her hands for a moment, her fingers twitching unconsciously. Time and time again, she’s the reason why the group can’t go a few hours without being drawn into their venomous war.

Her eyes glisten with shame and helplessness as she looks back up, her voice reflecting anything but that weakness, its sharp and snappy tone overtaking the crackling fire, “What is your problem?”

Differently from the silence that stretched on after the unnecessary jab caught her by surprise, each second going by the ticks of a bomb ready to explode and wipe out the frivolity of the night, Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even give her the courtesy of pretending to think it over. His response comes swiftly, harshly, as if he’s been waiting for the question all night, “My problem? My problem is that you’re here.”

Eunbi can’t help but scoff. It’s not meant to be arrogant, nor mocking. It’s almost an instinctive reaction, a defence mechanism against the disbelief that rises in her throat. Her words drip with sarcasm, though her voice remains calm, “Oh, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you with the others.”

Jeongguk’s gaze is steady, unwavering, and his next words land like a punch to the gut, “Well, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be here.”

Though she can say she’s gotten better at enduring, it still stings. None of that shows on her face, unflinching, neutral. A biting smile tugs at her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Trust me, I know.”

There’s a pause— one brief, agonising moment where she thinks maybe, just maybe, this is still part of their aimless bickering that has been going on the past two days, a spat that will blow over.

But then Jeongguk speaks again, and his voice is so distant it’s even hard to hear him clearly, “I hope you do. You don’t belong here.”

Silence stretches on, the fire crackling softly the only sound between them. She’s sure everyone has stopped breathing, their exhales stuck up in their throat, afraid of releasing them, of stepping foot into something that doesn’t concern them.

Jeongguk’s eyes never leave hers, the coldness in them piercing through the thin veil of pretence they’ve both been clinging to. He doesn’t stop there, his voice deathly quiet, “Not with me. Not with the others. Can’t you see that?”

Eunbi’s heart lurches. She thinks she would prefer being called every name in the book. Have Jeongguk spit at her for all the pain she put him through. Say anything he wants about her being an awful person. But he knows just how to twist the knife. Still knows how to read her every faltering step, the doubts behind her eyes, the insecurities plaguing her mind. Surely, he also still knows how to be the one feeding her the desperate acceptance she needs, the assurance that none of her fears are true. So many times Jeongguk was there to swear she’s loved; that she wouldn’t be left alone ever again.

But now, he decides to use all that knowledge to spin it against her, to push all the right buttons that he knows will hurt her most. She doesn’t belong here. It’s what her mind has whispered to her over and over again since she stepped foot in his sacred circle, an outsider next to Dahye. She has been good at ignoring those hushed tones, to convince herself they’re lies. That these people are her friends, and they all see her as part of the group. That her fears were unfounded.

The proof her haunting thoughts have been right all along is in front of her though, and it presses down on her chest. It’s too much— too raw, too real. She should have seen it coming, but she’s still speechless. Her throat tight, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Though she refuses to let them fall for eleven pairs of eyes to watch. For his eyes to glow with satisfaction.

Eunbi manages to laugh bitterly, though the sound is hollow, “Right. Well, thanks for making it clear.” With her hands trembling slightly, hiding it by clenching them into fists at her sides, she pushes herself to her feet, “I’ll go now. Enjoy your night. Asshole.”

Her voice wavering on the last word, Eunbi turns and walks away from the fire, the warmth of it barely touching her anymore. She doesn’t let herself falter as she heads toward her tent, her footsteps hurried, the chill of the night settling in around her.

And as she shields herself from the outside world, its sounds accompanied by the group’s muttered voices escalating with agitation, words she won’t try to register, she doesn’t bother giving herself a headache trying to hold the tears in. This time, she lets them spill over freely, each one carrying the weight of every single one of her fears. She keeps the sobs in her chest, whimpering with the signals of panic taking over. And now more than ever, she really wishes she just wasn’t here.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When it comes to this time of the year, Jeongguk inevitably becomes the worst version of himself. It’s a cruel irony that it all resurfaces right as his birthday approaches. It’s been that way for years now. In the beginning, when he was still in Busan, he found it hard to blow the candles on his cake without his shoulders feeling heavy, his eyes involuntarily searching for someone that was no longer there; with the unanswered questions dulling the sounds around, leaving him desensitised to the love so blatantly in front of him.

It took him a while to accept it, even with a missing spot unfilled. Jeongguk has never been good with changes. Has always lived by an unwavering, straight path on which he walked confidently, jumping over the cracks on the ground and ignoring any turns. The only deviation he allowed was the one that led him to Seoul. It was a long wait before the stoplight turned green, his own doubts plaguing him even with his parents’ encouragement; and when it did, he crossed the road alone reluctantly, glancing back more than once.

Jeongguk found that this lane was a little less preserved and far less predictable than the one he took his very first steps on. It was full of bumps, a lot of them causing him to trip and fall face first into the concrete. So many dead ends that forced him to make a choice, left or right. But on those same streets, he also recognised elements from the previous block: his love for filmography, the very reason he came to the capital; his mom’s goodnight tune, even over the phone; his thick Busan accent, instantly mirrored into Jimin’s own; the creeping dread as his birthday approached.

There are things he never fully got over, and every year, when August rushes to an end and September looms, he becomes highly aware of it. But over time, he’s learned to live with it. The questions that once consumed him have no answers, and he came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t help what happened. What he’s always had control over, however, was the small key to an even smaller room in his brain, where with great effort he locked Eunbi away once he turned 17.

She tried to break free multiple times, banging on the door and begging to be let out. Jeongguk even had to get maintenance on the lock. Eventually she quieted down, and only ever stirred whenever she knew September was coming from the little calendar she had hung up in the cramped space.

Jeongguk learned to handle it. The memories were still alive, but they didn’t hurt him the way they used to. They felt distant, resurfacing only when he himself noticed the final days of August being crossed on his own calendar. Using a red marker to draw those lines, his fingers still tingled with something close to familiar uneasiness. Sometimes, if it managed to spread to his whole body, it would overtake him, and in the days leading up to his birthday he’d snap more easily, feel more irritated.

But he’d gotten better at controlling it. Last year, his first time turning a year older in a place that wasn’t Busan, he didn’t even feel it. It might have been all the new, shiny people surrounding him in the small flat he was renting with Jimin, the fresh adrenaline from making sure he was feeding his friends with a fun time clouding every other thought. Back in that room, Eunbi peacefully slept through the entirety of it. Even forgot to wish him a happy birthday.

With the real Eunbi physically standing in front of him, all of Jeongguk’s efforts to keep her locked away shattered in one, insignificant instant. It only took a snap of the little-version-of-her in his brain for every wall he’d meticulously built to come crashing down. The door he had so carefully sealed off was now flung open, and little Eunbi burst through, running wild, mingling with thoughts she had no business messing with and wreaking havoc on all those parts of his mind that had been closed off, at least until that moment.

Behind her, an unstoppable flood of emotions he’d long buried surged in, filling his mind until it couldn’t hold any more. It spread to his chest, his heart straining under the weight of everything he didn’t want to feel. Little Eunbi, with her hair still short, worn bermudas, and a t-shirt stained with yellow paint, revelled in the chaos she was causing. She jumped and skipped back and forth between his brain and his heart, completely at ease, her presence so familiar yet entirely out of place. She seemed to enjoy every second of it.

And Jeongguk grew more and more unnerved by that. Little Eunbi was different from the Eunbi that avoided his gaze and awkwardly bowed. The latter had her hair longer, with short bangs softly brushing over her brows, her hands neatly manicured and her clothes spotless. She stood there, straight and put-together, a polished version of the girl who once got dirt all over herself and laughed too loud.

But what probably made him madder was that the more Eunbi started to find her place within the group, the more that seemingly dead part of her began to re-emerge, inching its way back into his life. It was like watching a ghost regain its form, piece by piece. The Eunbi he thought he had locked away was starting to blur with the present Eunbi, and every time she laughed it reminded him of how easy things had once been between them, back when her presence hadn’t been a thorn in his side but a constant comfort. Now, that sound twisted something deep in his chest, something he had long buried under layers of hurt and distance.

What frustrated him even more was that Eunbi seemed completely oblivious to it all. The way she eased into the group, gaining their acceptance, was infuriating. It was as if the distance between them meant nothing to her, as if she could waltz back into his life without consequence. The more they welcomed her, the more that old familiarity surfaced. She was becoming Eunbi again— the Eunbi who had once mattered. And that thought made his stomach churn.

It twisted even further when he found himself unconsciously reading into her every move. His knowledge of her, the way she used to be, crept into his mind without his consent, and he began to analyse her behaviour, picking apart her words and actions. It was almost instinctive, the way he could still understand her, still anticipate her moods. It only ended up poisoning him, because he soon realised those smiles — those little moments of reconnection to the past — were never directed at him. He could recognise her in the eyes of his friends, but never in his own.

Did she even care about what had happened between them? Did she think she could simply move on like none of it had affected him? Did she ever realise how deep those cracks still ran, or was he the only one haunted by the weight of their past?

At first, he forced the frustration to only translate into indifference. Bitter coldness. Not paying her presence too much mind, but still making sure she could feel his resentment dangerously tipping over the edge, and threatening to trip at any minute.

But the combination of his birthday approaching and Eunbi wandering around his space as if nothing ever happened caused the explosion. The rancorous version of himself, the one he thought he managed to successfully bury, now fought its way to the surface and dragged him back to square one: a freshly 16 years old Jeongguk with a freshly broken trust.

The intensity of those emotions hit him like a tidal wave, the kind that leaves you breathless, unable to distinguish between up and down. It wasn’t just anger. It was cold betrayal, and the sight of her, standing there so effortlessly among his friends on his birthday trip, made his skin prickle with irritation. Eunbi had slid into their plans with such ease, as if she belonged, and it was ironic considering she hadn’t even wanted to be in the same car as him.

Jeongguk only needed that last, littlest drop to fall, and with it, every ounce of restraint he had left evaporated. The thin thread of control he’d been clinging to snapped. He had thought he’d moved on, convinced himself that enough time had passed for him to handle her presence with maturity.

But he was wrong. Time hadn’t healed him like he’d hoped. Instead, it had just let the bitterness fester until now. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold himself back. The more he watched her fit in so naturally, laughing at someone’s joke or sharing a quiet moment by the fire, the more the frustration swelled in his chest. It was infuriating that she could act so unfazed, go up to him with a smile he has always recognised too well as if nothing ever was.

He didn’t even realise how tight the grip on his own emotions had been, until they were flooding out of him all at once. Jeongguk felt the words rising in his throat before he could stop them, the resentment spilling over like poison. And now he can feel the control slipping, the pain rushing to the surface like a dam had burst inside him. It’s almost addicting, even when his mind screams at him to stop, to take a breath. But his heart, the part of him still broken from all that time ago, drives him forward.

He needs her to feel it, needs it to be reflected in her eyes. This is what he’d been holding back for so long. This is the pain she’d left him with, and now he’s finally giving it back to her, forcing her to carry some of the weight. He isn’t the only one hurting anymore.

Each word that leaves his mouth is laced with venom, and he watches, wavering between satisfaction and regret, as they hit their target. Her eyes always widen slightly, the smallest flinch in her expression betraying her shock. For a second, he thinks he sees the cracks forming—tiny fissures in that calm, polished exterior she’d put on.

But the more he watches her crumble, the more he feels the bitter taste of victory sour in his mouth. There’s a part of him that hates what he’s doing. Hates that he has become the kind of person who lashes out like this, who takes pleasure in someone else’s pain. Especially hers. It’s like he’s caught in this vicious cycle of wanting to keep his distance but also wanting her attention. And the only way to get that is by hurting her before he himself can process his own hurt through different lenses.

Jeongguk knows he’s being unfair, but something in him can’t let it go. He‘s still simmering with unresolved anger, but there’s also a gnawing guilt, a nagging voice in his head telling him he’s pushing her too far, too hard. Last night, her eyes glossy with tears, he felt the pang that usually followed unleashing his poisonous words hit harder in his chest. He had picked his script with purpose, knowing exactly where to aim, only to shoot hard and leave her lifeless. She fought through the end to get her breaths out, until she couldn’t. Jeongguk waited for the sense of triumph to wash over him, but it never did.

Instead, her fragile figure retreating only after a weak attempt at returning even the smallest amount of the hurt she felt, Jeongguk still felt heavy. Heavy with remorse and guilt. Heavy with the pressure reflected in his friends’ eyes. And he couldn’t handle that. He stood up shortly after Eunbi left, his brain refusing to internalise Dahye’s affront and the group’s deafening silence.

Hours later, Jeongguk lies wide awake, his eyes staring into the void of the tent. He hasn’t been able to keep them shut for more than a minute, his mind a battlefield. He finds it’s impossible to resonate between the insatiable desire for revenge and the exhaustion rendering him numb to any possibility of feeding that need. There’s a part of him that just wants peace.

Glancing to his side, Jimin and Taehyung sleep soundly in the cramped space, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside him. Neither of them had wanted to dive too deep into what happened, the spat words, the irrational rage constantly taking over their younger friend and keeping him stuck between fight and flight with no escape. Jimin only offered a soft pat on the shoulder and his warmest smile, “It’ll be okay, Jeonggukkie. Let’s just sleep now, hm?”

Jeongguk wishes it could have been as simple as Jimin made it sound. For his friends, it was. They both fell asleep without trouble, and Jeongguk is grateful for that. At least two out of three of them were getting the rest they deserved. Still, he’s careful not to wake them while he quietly slips out of the tent.

The early morning air is crisp, biting at his skin, but the sensation is grounding. Dawn is just beginning to break, soft light spilling over the horizon and casting everything in a faint glow. The quiet sounds of nature surround him, and though they don’t quite ease the weight in his chest, they provide a temporary lull. It’s the cool air caressing his face and threading through his hair that brings some sort of order.

His thoughts start to settle. They don’t feel like a stadium of shouting voices anymore. The yells quiet down and he’s able to sift through them now, picking each one apart, giving himself the space to breathe. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. He feels like he can move past this— if not for his own sake, then for the sake of the others.

Still, there’s one thought that refuses to be silenced. One question that lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at the edges of his justified anger. It’s persistent, creeping into his mind with every inhale. Why does hurting her hurt him too?

It seems like the simplest of questions, but Jeongguk refuses to accept what appears to be the answer. It sits there, plain as day, yet he pushes it away. He doesn’t want to keep dissecting it, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to find any other plausible way out, but he can’t help himself. His thoughts spiral, stretching the minutes into what feels like eternity, until he loses track of time altogether. He zones out so deeply that when he finally snaps back, it’s only because the quiet sound of a tent zipper reaches his ears, followed by Hoseok’s hesitant head poking out.

Jeongguk blinks, suddenly aware that he’s been sitting in the same spot, on the same chair, staring at the same patch of dirt for who knows how long. Hours, at least. His body feels stiff, his mind trapped in an endless loop. He wonders if he’s lost his ability to pull himself out of this mental prison, if this is it. He’s stuck. His birthday is less than 24 hours away, and he’s more miserable than he’s been in months.

His chest tightens when he sees Hoseok walking toward him. Panic rises swiftly, because Hoseok had witnessed last night’s disaster. They all had. His hands clench into fists, his orbs trembling as doubt swarms his mind. Did he ruin the entire trip for everyone? Is the tension in the air his fault? Is he the cause of the awkward silence that lingered after he tore Eunbi apart with his words? Do they hate—

“Jeonggukkie? You okay?”

The softness in Hoseok’s tone almost makes Jeongguk flinch. It’s so gentle, filled with concern, and for a moment he questions everything he’s been telling himself. If Hoseok hated him, if any of them did, he wouldn’t be standing here now, looking at him with such care in his eyes.

Jeongguk only nods in response, the tension in his shoulders unwinding just a little as his older friend’s face softens into a sweet smile. There’s no judgement, no condemnation. Just quiet understanding. He waits in the lingering silence as Hoseok moves to freshen up. The moment he returns, settling into one of the chairs nearby, Jeongguk feels a sudden urge to speak clawing at his throat. He knows if he doesn’t start talking, the weight of the trap of his own mind will tighten around him again. So he talks, talks and talks about anything that doesn’t resemble the doom he was slipping into.

He’s a fugitive from his thoughts, and he keeps running even when more of the others join the small circle in the middle of the campsite. None of them seem to look at Jeongguk differently, the jokes flowing naturally as small laughs fill the quiet morning. It’s as if everything is as it should be, and he feels himself ease back into composure. Though, the guilt still lingers, heavy and unshakable. He ignores it.

The sun climbs higher in the sky, casting light above them and providing Jeongguk with warmth that he stores in his chest. He gets more of that from his friends’ smiles and the excitement flowing energetically out of them as Hoseok explains they’ll be cycling today, crossing scenic paths that round the campsite.

He watches as they all gather, geeking about today’s activity and stuffing their faces with as much food as they can get their hands on. The topic soon shifts to his birthday, which Jeongguk is particularly dreading. They’re already planning to get him wasted tonight, and the boy chuckles softly, though his laughter is hesitant, distracted.

His gaze keeps drifting to the one tent that hasn’t opened yet, the only place that remains closed off to the rest of the group. The only two people missing from their little circle haven’t joined yet, and it’s hard for Jeongguk to ignore that. To ignore her.

With more minutes going by and the tent unmoving, remaining still and almost mocking in its silence, he finds it even harder to focus on the laughter and the lightness of the morning. The world outside his head seems to move on without him, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside him. On one side, he’s relieved that the attention has shifted away from him, that the day can unfold even without him being fully present. But that same realisation makes him feel like he’s teetering on the edge, dangerously close to falling back into the prison of his own thoughts.

Oblivious to it, his inner struggle is written all over his face, clear as day to anyone who cares enough to look. And Jimin notices right away. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches out to gently caress Jeongguk’s shoulder, the touch so light that the brown haired boy startles slightly before meeting his friend’s gaze. Jimin’s face is soft, a sweet smile tugging at his lips as he tilts his head, “Something on your mind?”

His tone is gentle, almost knowing. Jeongguk shakes his head, brushing off the concern, but his eyes flicker, and his own body betrays him when he instinctively turns once again to check for any movement from the tent. The subtle action doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde, who hums and makes the other boy sigh wearily, an excuse ready on his lips, “I just haven’t had much sleep.”

“Why don’t you go call Eunbi and Dahye? They probably won’t get to have breakfast if we’re leaving soon.” Jimin’s suggestion comes with caution but it strikes a chord.

Jeongguk stares at his friend, though it feels more like he’s staring through him. The words hang in the air as he zones out, weighing his options. He doesn’t want them to miss breakfast, sure. And part of him just wants to check on them, to make sure they’re okay. Breathing, alive. Yeah, that’s it.

But a question lingers: is he ready to face Eunbi so directly? The task sounds simple enough—just call them over, remind them they’ll have to leave soon for the day’s plans. But the weight of last night still clings to him. What if he hasn’t recovered from the poison he spat? What if that anger rises up, unprovoked, and spills out again? Worse, what if he can’t say anything at all? Or what if Eunbi sees him and returns all the evil, even stronger and sharper? What if she hits back harder and he’s left bleeding on the ground?

The furious speed at which his thoughts churn makes Jeongguk’s head spin, a relentless loop that threatens to overtake him, before the weight on his lap pulls him back. He glances down to see a plate of food resting there—some leftovers from breakfast. When he looks back at his friend, Jimin’s gaze is comforting, “You could bring them this and check if they’re okay with leaving in 30 minutes, hm?”

Jimin is crouching beside him, eyes soft but knowing, not pushing or pressing for anything, but somehow encouraging him all the same. The reassurance he finds in his gaze is enough for Jeongguk. His rushed thought process slows down, and he has room to realise he was only letting irrational panic speak. There’s no reason why any of those scenarios and possible outcomes could roll out only from calling his friends (well, his friend and… Eunbi) over for breakfast.

Jeongguk nods as he stands, his movements stiff at first, his hands clutching the plate tightly. Even with the knowledge he doesn’t have to necessarily address Eunbi, each step toward the tent feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world. The ground beneath him crunches softly, and his heart unreasonably picks up. The idea of simply facing her makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to accept it, but it’s guilt that’s causing that.

He’s so consumed by trying to chase away his own thoughts he doesn’t immediately register he’s close enough now that he can see the outline of the closed tent flap. It takes him even more to discern the sounds coming from inside. At first, it’s just a faint noise—muffled, almost unintelligible.

But as he draws closer, it becomes clearer. His steps falter. Another second goes by before he places it, and then it hits him like a punch to the gut. Eunbi is crying.

Jeongguk’s body tenses. No, she’s sobbing. It feels like someone’s wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed. Her words are barely comprehensible, choked-out syllables and pleading whispers. He can make out enough to know that she’s begging, almost desperately, for Dahye to take her away from here.

Jeongguk freezes, paralyzed by the intensity of each of her desperate gasps. The world around him fades. The raw sound of her pain consumes him, and it cuts through him in ways he didn’t anticipate. He had wanted this, hadn’t he? He had wanted to hurt her, to see her broken, see her exactly like this. He had succeeded. He thought it would somehow bring him peace, make things right. Then why does each sob that escapes her build a shattering pressure in his chest?

It all ended up feeling wrong. As if he’s the one falling apart, the one who can’t catch his breath. Her grief echoes in him, breaking pieces inside he thought were long buried. There’s that gnawing guilt, eating away at the anger he had used to justify everything.

With the cries growing louder in his ears, he finds an answer as to why it hurts to hurt her. And it’s a persistent whisper he can no longer ignore.

Jeongguk struggles. He struggles to process it all, his senses slow. He doesn’t know whether to walk away or step closer. His head is screaming at him to move, to do something, but his body won’t listen.

It takes him another moment to realise that Dahye is moving inside the tent, her voice low and soothing as she tries to comfort Eunbi. Then, the tent flap rustles, and Dahye steps out. The moment her eyes land on him, her expression shifts, hardening with disappointment that sends a new wave of guilt crashing into him.

“You really fucked up this time.” She doesn’t bother to hide what seemed to only paint her features seconds ago. Jeongguk is left momentarily stunned, even more with her shoulder brushing against his as she walks past him. It’s suddenly too fast, and he can’t bring himself to respond, can’t find the words to defend himself or apologise.

His gaze falls down in an attempt to regain control over his actions, but as he searches for something, anything, to ground him he notices that the tent is left slightly open. Through the small gap, he can only see darkness and make out the quiet sniffles coming from Eunbi. His body stills, the sound only worsening the mess of thoughts crashing into each other.

One realisation sends a fresh wave of panic through him. Eunbi can see him. She knows he’s there, standing. Doing nothing, even while she cries. The jolt rushes all through his muscles this time, travelling from his brain, and it’s enough to finally get him to move.

Jeongguk takes a shaky step back, only to turn around fast when he’s met with a possibility he doesn’t want to confront. If he sees her face — red, tear-streaked, her eyes swollen from crying — he doubts he’d be able to handle it. Handle the sight of the pain that he caused. He’s sure he’d lose whatever fragile control he has left. He’s already on the brink of breaking just from hearing her. Seeing her like that would undo him completely.

As he retreats, the weight of everything he’s done settles in. He wonders if they’ve reached a point of no coming back. The hurt is too deep, the damage too irreversible. And for the first time, even the foolish kid inside him, the one that still craves for his Dal, wonders if they’ll ever be able to find their way back to each other. The bridge between them feels burned, reduced to ashes, and he’s terrified that there’s no rebuilding it. It’s falling apart for good.

It’s impossible for Jeongguk to keep the dread eating at his insides from showing on his face. It betrays him, every ounce of regret etched plainly across his features. He reluctantly lifts up his gaze. Especially when he’s met with Jimin’s concerned one, the pity there making his stomach twist even tighter, and Dahye’s flaring eyes cutting through him like daggers.

Eunbi steps out shortly after. She moves quietly, almost too quietly, as if she’s trying to blend and disappear into the air. He can immediately tell that she’s made an effort to mask the misery, the makeup she’s wearing is heavier than usual. Too much in places that don’t need it. A shield against him.

But he refuses to let himself look at her for too long. His eyes flit away before he’s forced to see too much. Before the truths he runs from hit him square in the face, before he’s able to discern the words that should be spoken but remain unsaid.

Once again, he lets his doubts speak louder than reason. He convinces himself that all of his friends are against him, that they’re watching him with eyes full of judgement. They’re at his throat, ready to pounce, ready to pin all the blame on him. He can almost feel their fingers pointing in his direction, like they’ve already made up their minds. He’s the guilty one. He’s the tainted, selfish asshole who ruins everything.

That’s why Jeongguk cycles slowly, deliberately hanging back, lagging behind the rest of the group. He can’t bear to meet their eyes, to force himself into their light-hearted mood. He doesn’t feel like belonging there, right now. It feels like he’s on the outside looking in, like he’s forgotten what it means to just feel at peace.

So, he keeps his distance. It’s easier to stay where it’s quiet. Where he doesn’t have to put up an act or force himself to be present. The silence feels more like a refuge than loneliness, a momentary escape from the relentless noise in his mind.

In front of him, Eunbi cycles just as slowly. They’re both drifting behind the group, caught in their own separate orbits, not really blending with the others. Jeongguk unconsciously fixates on the steady rhythm of her bike wheels, the way they spin effortlessly, guiding her along the path. It’s a repeated, ceaseless action that serves as a temporary anchor to avoid sinking under.

Without meaning to, he finds himself mimicking their speed, gradually inching closer to her, his bike mirroring the pace of her wheels. The space between them narrows, and when he notices it, he pulls back slightly. Only to repeat the same motion moments later, closing the gap again. And again. It’s like he’s automatically attracted to the movement, which unintentionally draws him to her.

It’s Eunbi’s weary sigh cutting through the soft hum of the tires against the ground that snaps him out of that mindless trance, the one that had briefly distracted him from the darker thoughts creeping at the edges of his brain, “Can you stop doing that?”

Her voice, edged with irritation, breaks through the fog in his head. Jeongguk stills, confused, not even realising what she meant. He hums questioningly, his brows furrowing.

“I’m not in the mood for a race,” she mutters, not even looking back at him, her tone flat but tinged with weariness.

Jeongguk blinks, caught off guard, and he feels a flash of defensiveness rise up before he can stop it, “I— I wasn’t—”

“Whatever.” She cuts him off, sounding more tired than angry, “I just feel... anxious knowing you’re— there. Behind me. Please, just go ahead.”

The words strike him harder than they should, hitting him in a place he doesn’t want to acknowledge. They settle deep, mingling with guilt and frustration. Her voice, so casual yet heavy with discomfort, only stirs up the irrational anger that always seems to bubble up whenever they interact, the same one that brought them to this breaking point.

Before he can stop himself, he bites back, “Oh, now you’re the one feeling anxious.”

Eunbi’s shoulders stiffen, and her words shake with fatigue, begging once again, “Please, I don’t wanna start this again.”

“We’re not starting anything,” Jeongguk snaps back, his tone biting despite himself. Even he doesn’t believe it. It always feels like they’re on the verge of starting something, like every word is a match waiting to spark.

This time, she whips her head to look at him over her shoulder, her voice rising as her patience thins, “Oh, really? Then what is th—”

The words die in her throat as her bike catches on something, and in an instant, she’s thrown forward. She’s sent tumbling on the ground, her body skidding against the rocky surface, the harsh sound of scraping skin filling the air as her hands and knees are victim to the fall.

Jeongguk’s heart drops. The fragile tension between them shatters, and his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t think—he just reacts. “Dal!”

Before he knows it, panic overtakes him and he’s off his bike in a flash, letting it crash behind him as he rushes to her side. His voice shakes when he kneels beside her, the name escaping him again, raw and urgent.

Eunbi is sprawled on the ground, dirt smudged across her skin, her hands trembling as they try to push her own body up. Jeongguk immediately detects the blood seeping from the cuts on her knees, then scans through her face contorted in pain. He searches her whole body for more wounds with wide, desperate eyes and he notices her palms are also bleeding.

His hands hover uselessly, unsure where to touch or how to help without hurting her more. His heart is racing, pounding in his chest as the sight of her like this rips through him. It feels like the ground has been yanked out from beneath his feet.

When he speaks again, his voice is rough with fright, “Are you okay?” It’s the first thing he manages to blurt out, while helping her turn on her back. But it’s a stupid question—he can see she’s not okay. He can see the ache written all over her features, more blood dripping from her cuts.

Eunbi doesn’t respond immediately. Her breath comes out in sharp, shaky gasps. Jeongguk can see the shock of it all settling into her body and he watches as she tries to pull herself together, her face pale. Eunbi mutters, her voice small but strained, attempting to sit up in slow movements, “I’m fine.”

Jeongguk feels himself spiralling. The terror in her eyes is reflected in his, but it seems to hit him ten times stronger than what the bruised girl has to deal with right now. His orbs widen impossibly more as the seconds go by, and when her eyes seem to mist over with tears he can’t help his own palms from framing her face and searching for possible scratches he couldn’t spot with his attentive gaze, then grasps her arms.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to make her feel the hurt he carried, make her understand how deep his pain went. But now, as he looks at her, all he can think is how wrong that is. The sight of her suffering doesn’t give him any satisfaction. Only a pang deep in his chest, something ugly that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m fine,” Eunbi repeats again, this time with a little more conviction, a small, forced smile barely reaching her lips. But Jeongguk can see right through it. He hopes she can feel the intention seeping from his contact, his hold rough but warm over her goosebumps-covered skin.

The rushed moment gives no space for the resentment they had grown accustomed to these past days, and it wraps them up in a bubble from which the present is locked out. They’re outside Jeongguk’s porch, and Eunbi just fell on her hands and knees trying to learn how to roller skate. Her best friend sits beside her, taking care of her pain.

Even with their friends now hovering above them, throwing concerned questions at her, Jeongguk’s entire focus is on Eunbi. He follows her every slight movement, every shift of her body as she tries to mask the discomfort. His eyes study the way her face scrunches in pain, his heart aching in time with her every wince. And every time she looks at him, silently seeking reassurance, he’s right there, offering it in the softening of his gaze.

As the group’s voices become a chaotic hum around them, Eunbi’s low murmur slips past the noise, meant only for him, “Gguk. Maybe I don’t feel so fine.”

Her sheepish smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and the worry in her eyebrows betrays her light-hearted attempt. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He immediately reacts, delicately leading her upper body down again. Seated on his heels, he lays her head on his lap and keeps her eyes on his face, his voice soothing, “It’s okay, Bee. Look at me. You’re going to be fine.”

Eunbi nods, trying to will herself into trusting him, but Jeongguk sees the uncertainty etched into every line of her face. Her eyes, wide with panic, keep darting down to her legs, where Namjoon holds them up steady, and Dahye works carefully to clean her wounds. There’s terror in her eyes every time she follows the blood trickling down her skin and notices how it keeps flowing out furiously. Jeongguk knows that look all too well. He’s seen it before, is aware of how blood unsettles her, how easily fear grips her in moments like these.

He acts instinctively, gently covering her eyes with one of his hands, the thumb subtly caressing her forehead, “Don’t look, Dal. Close your eyes, hm?”

Jeongguk can feel the hesitancy radiating from the group, their confusion practically tangible as they watch the scene unfold. They’ve seen him and Eunbi at each other’s throats, and now this tenderness feels foreign. But to him, it’s more familiar than any of the anger he’s harboured towards her. It’s like something pulling at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of how it always has been, and should have been.

He refuses to linger on that thought now. Rational explanations and consequences can wait for later. Right now, all he cares about is making sure Eunbi is okay.

Her fall wasn’t severe, not by any medical standard, but the sight of her pale face and the cold sweat clinging to her skin keeps his nerves taut. He can't relax, not when he can still feel the tremble in her body and see the fright in her eyes. The panic washing over her features only makes him grip her a little tighter.

Namjoon breaks through the haze of Jeongguk’s focus, his voice concerned as he lowers Eunbi’s legs gently to the ground. “I need a shirt or something. Tissues won’t be enough here.”

It seems more as if he’s muttering to himself than anyone else, because he instantly moves to search in his backpack. Jeongguk is quicker, reacting without hesitation, still making sure Eunbi is shielded from the view of her knee scratched and raw with blood, “There’s one in my backpack. You can rip it if you need to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment, looking at Jeongguk with doubt and something else he can’t quite place. But after a beat, he nods, unzipping the bag and pulling out the t-shirt.

The older boy calls Eunbi’s attention on him, and Jeongguk’s hand reluctantly slips away from her face, settling in her hair instead. Namjoon’s tone is gentle, keeping the girl grounded, “Okay Bi. I’m going to press very hard now. It’ll hurt a bit, but I need to stop the bleeding. You okay?”

Eunbi nods, her expression tight with fear but determined to stay calm. She focuses solely on Namjoon’s face, deliberately avoiding the sight of her knee, where blood continues to drip down, relentless and vivid against her skin. The second Namjoon applies pressure, she lets out a sharp squeal, her brows knitting together as soft whimpers follow, each sound striking Jeongguk with a deep sense of helplessness.

And it’s more than he can bear. Without thinking, he reaches for Namjoon’s wrist, halting his movement, his voice tight and edged with a protectiveness he can’t suppress, “Yo, you’re hurting her. Don’t press so hard.”

The other boy meets his eyes, a small scoff escaping his lips without going unnoticed, his expression steady, “I’m studying to be a doctor. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re studying to be a vet, that’s not a fucking doctor.” The comment slips past him before he can do anything about it, sharper than intended, fueled by frustration and anxiety. The unnecessary weight of his words reflect in the surprised reactions from his friends and the slight arch of Namjoon’s brow.

“Bibi kinda looks like a deer. I’d say it’s quite appropriate,” Dahye’s voice slices through the small, sudden moment of tension, and it’s sweet but tinged with humour, her light-hearted tone meant to ease some of her friend’s nerves. Eunbi chuckles, light and genuine, for the first time that morning. She searches for the taller girl’s gaze and finds her crouching next to Jeongguk, close to her.

Jeongguk notices the shift in her immediately, the way her features relax, the calm that briefly washes over her. He scrutinises every subtle change, searching for the girl he’d spent years knowing. But as he looks down at her, still resting in his lap, her gaze lingering on Dahye before quickly finding his and then returning to Namjoon, he spots something that twists in his gut.

There’s a shift in her eyes. Uncertainty. It all comes rushing back. It’s not just the physical pain that’s pulling her away. The brief connection they had shared slips through his fingers. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and they’re back where they always end up, strangers that know everything about the other, even when they’re this close. The softness in her eyes is not directed at him, and it’s then replaced by doubt. The image causes an obnoxious alarm to go off in his head. He doesn’t know how to restore the moment. Doesn’t want it to end.

Frantic, he keeps combing his fingers through her hair, desperate to hold onto any remains. His movements are absentminded, mechanical almost, as if he’s afraid to let go completely. Then, the need to hear her voice becomes almost overwhelming, and his words come out soft, tentative, “You okay?”

When she only nods, he frowns. It does little to ease his mounting anxiety.

Namjoon resumes his work diligently, and Eunbi eventually sits up, the warmth of her body now gone from Jeongguk’s lap. It only leads him to further seek for a way to bridge the gap, forcing a gentle smile, “Dal, it’s not even bleeding anymore. See?”

“Oh god, is she dying? She’s gonna bleed out.” It’s Hoseok’s dramatic outburst shattering the moment and Jeongguk’s every possible attempt at mending it, as the boy crouches down to inspect the stained shirt wrapped around Eunbi’s leg with a grimace.

Eunbi, who had just started to calm down, now feels her breath quicken. She instinctively looks at Jeongguk, her eyes pleading for reassurance, but before he can offer his comfort, Hoseok’s over-the-top concern strikes again, “Bi, what’s your blood type? Just in case we might need to give you a blood transfusion.”

“What? Is he serious?” Her eyes widen in disbelief as she searches for the bloodstain but finds Jeongguk quickly pulling her shoulder to keep her still, “He’s just—”

"Actually, I once watched a tutorial on YouTube on how to do that. It’s not that hard. We just need to find someone with your same blood type and you’re set." Jimin’s sudden comment adds to the absurdity, and Jeongguk groans, his frustration mingling with the ridiculousness of the situation.

”You two, shut up and help me clean these,” rolling her eyes, Dahye puts an end to the foolish interaction and urges them to take care of the cuts on Eunbi’s palms, still unattended. Hoseok tries, he does, but he feels like facing blood this close will probably result in him fainting. He doesn’t think having another person on the verge of passing out would help. So, he calls for Taehyung to take over while he just resolves by trying to distract Eunbi, “I was just kidding, doesn’t look so bad. Where did you get this top, by the way?”

Jeongguk hesitates. He can’t focus on the banter. His anxiety is slowly eating at his insides, and he knows he should let go of whatever bubble he found himself trapped into. Should burst it with the slightest nudge of his finger, the mocking plop! sound eventually bringing him back to the present and making the sounds clearer, closer. But he can’t. He’s feverish as Eunbi seems to avoid his gaze further, only offering small smiles when he attempts to comfort her like he did while she was laying on his legs, her eyes trained on his and seemingly the only thing able to keep her stable. The chaos makes his head spin, but what’s worse is the feeling that she’s slipping away, again. Even if it was just an illusion to begin with.

Deep in the spiral of his thoughts, it takes him a moment to notice that Eunbi is being helped up by Namjoon, and that she’s holding onto his forearms while taking small, hesitant steps without applying too much pressure on the bruised knee. Namjoon hums in concern, then looks behind his shoulders, “Hey, my bike has a seat behind. I’m taking Eunbi back to the campsite.”

The words snap Jeongguk out of his daze, making him stand up and instantly pulling him back from whatever other mental trap he had fallen right into. Even if it seems to be too late now, Eunbi restoring the wall between them brick by brick, his heart kicks into overdrive, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he blurts out with more urgency than necessary, “I’ll come with you!”

The response is immediate, and not in the way he expects. All eyes land on him, doubtful, surprised. He can feel the shift in the air, a tension settling around him as his friends exchange glances, unsure of where this sudden burst of energy came from. The awkwardness of the moment seeps into his skin, and Jeongguk clears his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face, “I’ll— I’ll help take Eunbi’s bike back.”

Dahye pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, and Jeongguk is momentarily taken aback considering their earlier interaction and how she had looked at him with murderous intents. This time, she sports a soft smile, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I’ll do it.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to argue, but Namjoon cuts in, his expression equally puzzled by the younger’s outburst, “Yeah, man. You should stay here and enjoy the day. It’s your birthday, after all.”

“But—“

”You did enough already, Gguk. Stay with the others, we’ll take care of her.” After throwing him a convincing nod, Dahye is already pulling Eunbi’s bike up and steadying it, quickly collecting her own that had stopped not too far away.

Jeongguk frantically searches for Eunbi’s gaze, for any sign that he should push further, that she needs him with her. But as they lock eyes, the weight of his earlier actions come crashing down on him, like a bucket of cold water. He let himself get carried away in a distant fantasy that doesn’t belong in his reality, that shouldn’t have unfolded in their present. It only led him to try and force his way into a situation where he wasn’t needed. No, where he wasn’t wanted. The thought stings more than he cares to admit.

He seeks for confirmation either way, hanging on the last remaining thin thread, the name slipping from his tongue again, tentative, “Are you sure, Bee?”

Eunbi hesitates, her arms wrapping around her figure, shielding herself from him. She also seems to be realising the unfamiliarity of the moment, of his sweet tone, his eyes never once hardening when they land on her. And it’s weird, because she should be accepting this version of him with much more ease. But instead, she finds support in their distance right now, and she lowers her gaze, “Yes, Jeongguk. I don’t want to bother you further.”

A small gasp fights its way up his throat, but he stops it. He tries to argue, stuttering, “You— You’re not— Whatever. Huh, call if anything happens?”

His eyes are still trained on Eunbi, but she doesn’t react. Dahye chuckles softly to try and soothe the air, “Hey, she’s okay. It’s just a few scratches. Right, Bibi?”

The oddly silent girl nods, her head up again and now meeting Jeongguk with confidence, firmly holding his gaze, the smallest remains of whatever they got caught into scattered to the ground. He mirrors her nodding, attempting to smooth some of her certainty in himself, failing, “Huh— okay. I’m just— okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

Later comes, and Jeongguk barely sees Eunbi. The night grows louder, he’s surrounded by friends, their energy infectious as they prepare for his birthday, now just a few hours away. They’re bubbling with excitement, eyes bright with anticipation, instilling that nervous buzz that always hits him just before midnight. Jeongguk smiles along with them, but his heart isn’t quite in it.

Despite the laughter and the way the campfire crackles as they pass around bottles of alcohol, Jeongguk feels distant, like he's watching it all through a fog. His friends are trying, he can tell. They’re making every effort to keep him distracted, to drown out the noise in his head with their joy. Jokes fly around the fire, and every few minutes someone checks the time, gasping excitedly as midnight draws nearer. It’s sweet, thoughtful, and he genuinely appreciates it. But no matter how much he tries to focus on them, on the present moment, his mind keeps drifting. His eyes wander, searching for Eunbi.

She’s always just out of sight. There, but not fully. Lingering at the edges, sticking close to Dahye. Laughing quietly, but never wholly engaging with the group like she usually would, despite everything. It’s just enough to not raise suspicion, but it’s clear she’s retreating. Closing herself off from the rest of them, from him.

Jeongguk tells himself he’s reading too much into it. That she’s probably still finding it hard to recover from the earlier incident, her bruises still visible. But he also knows this feeling too well. He felt it after that ride on his motorcycle, Eunbi seeking for something in his eyes, the moment so tender but broken in an instant. He’s acquainted with the slow drift, the wall quietly being rebuilt between them. Taller, sturdier.

The campfire crackles, and his friends’ voices rise around him, but he’s only half there. Jeongguk wishes he could stop his mind from racing, wishes he could just fall into the rhythm of the celebration like everyone else.

And then midnight comes. With it, a burst of chaos. His friends spring to life, hoisting him up into the air, passing him between them like a beloved trophy. Their spark is contagious, and for a moment, Jeongguk lets himself be burnt by it. The joy, the love surrounding him. They sing him happy birthday, off-key and loud, pouring drinks and making ridiculous toasts. He allows himself to be showered by that affection. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.

As the hours drag on, the celebration settles into a steady hum. They stay by the fire, some leaning into one another, others still joking around, the alcohol loosening their tongues. The earlier buzz mellows into something softer, more intimate, and Jeongguk feels himself unwind, even a little. He laughs more freely now, the weight of the night starting to lift as he becomes wrapped up in their warmth.

Eventually, exhaustion begins to creep in. One by one, his friends start to peel away, calling it a night and retreating to their tents with promises to continue the celebration tomorrow. They ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, poking at him one last time before bidding him goodnight, the warmth of their presence lingering even as they disappear. Jimin and Taehyung make sure he’s okay before heading to their tent, only after throwing final teases laced with affection at him. Jeongguk sports a boyish grin as he watches them go.

Then it’s just him, the fire crackling softly and the bright stars above him. They whisper something to him, but he can’t decipher it. It makes his skin prickle with the chill and his eyelids shut heavier, slower with every flutter. He doesn’t hear his thoughts so strongly, now. Maybe he chooses not to. He’s been dealing with them all day long, seeking for even one of the millions to lighten him with something he actually needs. Does he even know what he needs? The ache in his heart that refuses to settle hints at a negative answer.

Jeongguk knows there’s something he wants, though. He badly wants these first hours of his birthday to be blessed by a certain someone’s wishes. He completely lost sight of her in the earlier chaos. Didn’t get to check if a smile, even a forced one, was painting her lips when midnight struck.

Perhaps it’s the universe pitying him, reserving him with a gift that could or could not change his misery. But he soon realises he’s not alone when a soft clearing of a throat breaks the silence.

He turns and finds Eunbi standing there, hesitant. She visibly struggles with what to do, her legs refusing to bring her closer to him but her brain willing to, sheepishly taking the seat next to him, “Um. Happy birthday, I guess.”

Jeongguk recognises it instantly, the way she says it, her subtle, small, playful smile not lost on him. It mirrors the same tone he’d used when he had blurted it out awkwardly at her own birthday not too long ago, the first time they’d really spoken one-on-one. A small chuckle escapes him, unsure but undeniably warm, “Huh. Thanks.”

And then there’s silence. It stretches between them, heavy but not uncomfortable, like there’s something waiting beneath it, something unspoken. The two are deep in their thoughts, words they want to say hovering on the tip of their tongues, but neither quite ready to let them loose. The crackling of the fire fills the space, the occasional pop of embers the only sound as they sit side by side, both not used to the feeling.

Jeongguk hesitates, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Do you… feel better?”

Eunbi hums.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

It goes quiet again, air thick and pregnant with everything left unsaid. Jeongguk hesitates, his mind swirling with the urge to say something, anything, but the fear of breaking whatever fragile truce they have keeps him quiet. He wants to ask her if she’s okay — really okay — but the words feel inadequate.

Eventually, it’s Eunbi who takes a deep breath, as if drawing in strength from the fire, from the quiet of the night around them, “I— I feel like… we should talk. Do— do you want to?”

Jeongguk’s chest tightens, his heart pounding, but then he nods.

“Yeah.”

302 notes · View notes

bosbas · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 8: this is falling in love in the cruelest way

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, heavily going off of book canon, me stirring the pot (im sorry)(no im not), PINING!!!!!!!, anthony being very much in love with his wife

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: guys i'm sorry but this picture is INSANE. the THIGHS??? HELLO? i am looking respectfully.......👁️👁️

June 5, 1816 – And yesterday, much to this author’s surprise, Lord Barlow reportedly proposed to Lady Montclair! This proposal comes unexpectedly after the Duke’s promiscuity with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball a few weeks ago. Given the fact that Miss Barrington has been compromised, it is incredibly shocking that Lord Arthur Barlow would do something like this in polite society. Luckily, Lady Montclair remains a single woman and swiftly rejected her former beau’s proposal. But this only begs the question: why did the Duke propose? Is Lady Montclair simply too alluring to pass up, or is something else amiss between Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington?

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Colin under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning Lady Whistledown’s column as he sat on a bench in the garden.

“What’s that you’re reading, brother?” asked Anthony, ears perking up at Colin’s scandalous language, even if it was just between brothers.

Colin felt a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud, having been too caught up in the news that you had finally received a proposal from Lord Barlow. It was a lovely day out, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were in the gardens of Number 5 Bruton Street after a round of fencing.

Of course, once Francesca had come outside holding a copy of Whistledown to read in the gazebo, Colin had stolen it out of her hands and abandoned his brothers in favor of catching up on the ton’s happenings. Though no one should have been surprised by his interest, really, given that you were the main topic of most of the gossip sheets nowadays.

“Nothing,” Colin answered quickly, trying to recover from his blunder. “It’s bizarre how invested one becomes in Whistledown while living here. Is this what every summer is like when one isn’t traveling for half the time?”

“In essence, yes,” answered Benedict, still jabbing at the air with his épée as Anthony stared at him amusedly. “What does she have to say today?”

“Lord Barlow proposed to Lady Montclair yesterday,” said Colin, a slight edge to his voice. “And he looked a sight while doing it, too, apparently.”

Benedict dropped his foil, turning around to fully face Colin with a shocked look on his face. “And what did she say?” he pressed, intrigued about the outcome of this curious development. It was practically unimaginable that the Duke had proposed to you after defiling another lady in the ton, and Benedict hadn't considered him capable.

Anthony clapped him on the back, smirking at Colin as he did so. “Well, did you not hear the man say, ‘thank God’? Obviously, she said no.”

Colin crossed his arms, immediately defensive. “It wasn’t that obvious! She could have said yes, and my ‘thank God’ could have been because she would’ve finally left me alone. Duchesses have a lot to do; I doubt she’d find the time to be irritating while attending to her duties in the country.”

Benedict and Anthony gave their brother unimpressed looks, watching amusedly as he squirmed under their gaze.

“I assure you, brother, that there was absolutely no possibility of that being the case,” said Benedict jovially, earning a snort from Anthony.

But before Benedict could laugh, too, Colin lunged at him, épée in hand as he glared playfully at his brother. Finding himself unarmed, Benedict yelped and ran toward the house, citing a very important painting to attend to before sprinting back inside.

Turning to Colin, Anthony smiled curiously. “So, it’s true, then? What Daphne said?”

“What did Daphne say?” asked Colin innocently, dreading the conversation that would follow.

“Don’t be daft. That you love Y/N.”

Colin rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “I don’t love her; that’s ridiculous, Anthony! A mere two weeks ago, we absolutely despised each other. I hardly think I could love her now.”

But even as he said those words, Colin questioned whether he actually meant them. Could he love you? He hadn’t ever felt this way about anyone, but then again, no one had ever vexed him quite like you. Though lately, he had been finding the line between irritation and fascination to be quite blurred. So blurry, in fact, that he was having trouble seeing a line at all.

Having clearly overheard part of the conversation, Gregory ran up to his brothers, laughing hysterically as Hyacinth chased him. He stopped and let his sister catch up, smiling evilly at the older Bridgertons “Colin loves who, now?”

Hyacinth arrived a few moments later, panting heavily. “Y/N, of course,” she stated while trying to catch her breath, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? What do you mean? Why do say that?” pressed Colin. Why did everyone in his family seem to think that he loved you? Surely they saw the two of you bickering incessantly, right? Your feud was so famous it had even made it to Lady Whistledown’s column. Colin couldn’t understand how anyone could think he had so much affection for you.

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her older brother, unamused. “Colin, I am not an idiot. Though perhaps you might be,” she added brightly. And before Colin could respond, she quickly turned to her eldest brother. “Now, Anthony, could you please tell Gregory to give me back my quill?” she begged.

Gregory, scoffed, glaring at his sister. “I’d only borrowed it for a moment! And I only did so because Hyacinth hid mine! Anthony, she’s being unreasonable,” he whined.

Anthony affectionately patted them both on the head and flashed a faux sympathetic smile. “I rather think both of you are being quite the nuisance right now.”

At times, Anthony found himself slipping into the role of a father figure to his youngest siblings. It was an unspoken duty he assumed after their father's passing. Yet, it was important to occasionally remind them that he was still their brother.

Hyacinth responded with a frustrated groan, her teeth grinding audibly, thoroughly vexed with her brother. However, the sight of Gregory's smug smile reignited her fury, and she immediately charged at him. Despite being older than Hyacinth, Gregory wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her, and he took off in a panic, screaming as he tried to outpace his deceptively quick sister.

Colin shook his head in amusement as he watched the antics of his youngest siblings. “Were Daphne and I truly like that?”

“Worse,” said Anthony flatly, but he couldn’t mask the warmth and fondness interlaced in his words.

At that, Anthony began to turn back toward the house. “Well, I must be-”

“Wait!” interrupted Colin. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped his brother, other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility that he could love you. You, the person he supposedly hated. The person who certainly hated him.

But, as always, Anthony was the right person to talk to about this. He would know what to say. Though it was well known that Anthony was completely smitten with his wife, Colin remembered a time when the pair seemed to dislike each other fairly intensely.

After a few moments of charged silence, Colin met Anthony’s expectant gaze. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up. “Purely hypothetically, and simply out of curiosity, when did you fall in love with Kate?”

Anthony smiled, amused. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin. “As long as it's purely out of curiosity,” he teased. “It wasn’t like I simply fell in love with her one day, Colin.”

“Yes, but if you had to pinpoint a moment?” pressed Colin, slightly exasperated. If anything, he needed to know if he had experienced that moment himself.

Anthony’s gaze softened, and he suddenly saw a lot of himself in Colin’s uncertainty and pause when it came to a woman who profusely vexed him. “I found Kate in the library the night after we played Pall Mall for the first time,” he recalled fondly. “We were at Aubrey Hall for the country party and it was raining outside quite loudly, a terrible storm. She was huddled underneath a desk because she was scared of the storm. I very quickly realized I couldn’t hate her anymore. Not properly, anyway. Not when I just wanted to sit on the floor with her and protect her from the storm, and anything else that might come her way.”

His voice had softened as he spoke about his wife, recalling the moment he truly knew there was no way out. Anthony had tried to deny it to himself after, but his protests simply held no conviction after that night.

“You never told me that,” said Colin thoughtfully, not missing the glint of emotion in his brother’s eyes as he talked about his now-wife.

“Yes, well, the real challenge was getting her to love me back,” he said, coming out of his musings. “And that didn’t happen for quite some time after that. It was rather premature of me to declare my love for this woman while I supposedly hated her and was still technically courting her sister.”

It was truly a wonder that he and Kate were married now. But when it was meant to be, it was meant to be, Anthony supposed. Something that was proving to be particularly true of you and his brother. If Colin, who had a deep-seated need to be liked by anyone and everyone, could fall in love with you, the only person who didn’t actually like him, then surely it was meant to be.

Colin, still deep in thought, chewed his lip nervously. “And how did you get her to fall in love with you?”

“We were caught in a… compromising position. She had been stung by a bee and I… Well, I’m sure you recall,” said Anthony, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy as he remembered the circumstances that allowed him to marry his wife. “It’s far easier to get a woman to love you when she’s already your wife,” he finished sympathetically.

Colin choked back a laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t very well put Lady Montclair in a compromising position, can I?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But Colin, I thought this was all hypothetical,” teased Anthony, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder.

Colin cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance as Anthony continued laughing at him. “Never mind. I’m off to find Eloise,” he muttered, patting the eldest Bridgerton on the back and leaving him free to go dote on his wife.

After speaking with Anthony, Colin had a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find out why you hated him. He was so utterly exhausted of hating you and of having this tiresome charade of fighting with each other at every available moment. At this point, he didn’t particularly care who in the ton liked him or not. Colin knew he would happily take the entire ton’s wrath for the rest of his life if it meant you loved him.

But he needed to know just how unrealistic his hopes were. Eloise would be the best–and perhaps only–person who would know.

Colin found his sister practicing needlepoint in the sitting room, focused intensely on the material in front of her. It was unclear whether she was trying to sew the fabric or her finger, given how often she was pricking herself as she attempted to thread the needle.

“El!” he called by the doorway, pausing when he saw his sister grimace after pricking herself once again. “I can return later if you’re busy.”

“No! No, please interrupt. Thank heavens,” gasped Eloise, grateful to be able to do something other than draw her blood.

Colin laughed, amused, and suddenly felt a tad sheepish. Was he truly about to ask about you? To ask about you to Eloise, who would no doubt hold this over his head for the rest of eternity? But he had to know. He had to ask, at the very least.

“I was just…I was wondering if you knew why Lady Montclair hates me,” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Eloise let out a snort. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d be hard-pressed to find a reason why, given how you treat her.”

Seeing her brother’s crestfallen face, Eloise immediately sobered. Standing up and walking toward him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I thought you disliked her as well,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Of course I do,” clarified Colin quickly. “But she hated me first and I still don’t know why. I thought she might have said something to you, given how close the two of you are. Do you know at all?”

Eloise clicked her tongue in sympathy, looking at Colin with concern. Perhaps his feelings did run deeper than anyone thought, and the recent dancing and promenading were more than just Colin being his usual charming self around you. “I’m sure I have no idea, Col. But you could always just talk to her.”

Colin shook his head, smiling sadly at his sister. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t usually seem very eager to speak with me.”

Sure, the two of you had been getting along recently. But that had only been twice. And was that really enough to undo the weeks of hatred?

---

It was a particularly delightful Wednesday afternoon, and you found yourself feeding the ducks at Hyde Park as you watched Isabelle and Charlotte skip rocks across the pond. Though you loved Louis to bits, it was a lovely feeling to have both of your sisters home with you. There was simply something about being out in society that he could never quite understand like them, though not for lack of trying.

After lunch, you, Charlotte, and Isabelle had managed to sneak out of the house just as the post-meal discussion grew rowdy. It was not unheard of to have such lively discussions in the Montclair household, and you frequently even enjoyed them. But there were some days, like today, that you frankly just wanted to have a quiet afternoon with a baguette and about a dozen ducks. Luckily, your sisters had decided to join you, and the three of you had set off toward the park in search of a flock of birds to feed.

It seemed that the ducks had taken much more of a liking to you than to your sisters, and they had grown disinterested in the endeavor. Charlotte and Isabelle had opted to give you their remaining bread and take a stroll around the mostly empty park, and you couldn’t say that you were complaining. Coming from such a large family, it was a rare luxury to have an afternoon largely to yourself.

A while later, after most of the ducks found themselves happily full, you spotted a stumbling figure making its way toward you. As you turned to your sisters with a questioning look, you were disappointed to find them in deep conversation facing away from you, neither one of them noticing you.

As the figure neared, you realized who it was: Nigel Berbrooke. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach drop, unpleasant memories of him and his disgusting words flooding your brain. You had no desire to speak to this man, and you looked around for anyone you could speak with instead. But you had not brought a lady’s maid, and everyone else was too far to intervene.

“Lady Montclair,” said Nigel, with what looked to be an attempt at a seductive smile on his face.

You stood up from your crouching position rigidly and turned to face him. You were unable to form any words, discomfort far outweighing any other emotion you were feeling. This had to be his first time back this season after his absence, you thought. You hadn’t seen him at any events since the Danbury ball, and you rather thought you would have noticed him, looking as vile as he did now.

His nose was a tad more crooked than on the night you had met him, and the bags under his eyes were ghastly. But perhaps it was just your perception of him, knowing what you did about who he was.

“Mr. Berbrooke,” you settled for saying, nose crinkling as you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of alcohol emanating off of him.

“A promenade?” he asked roughly, reaching for your hand without permission. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Oh, Mr. Berbrooke, we were just about to head home,” you pointed your head toward your sisters, panicked.

Isabelle and Charlotte were far too immersed in their conversation to look like they were ready to head home, but you prayed that Nigel’s inebriated state would distract him from this.

He growled at you, clearly displeased at your rejection. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Montclair. Your dowry, as well as your other…assets, are far too good to pass up,” he slurred, very obviously staring at your chest. “It’s a shame Colin’s gotten to you first.”

You were scandalized, opening your mouth to chastise him, or to scream for help, or anything that could get you out of this situation, really, but he cut you off before you could say anything.

"I've heard Lord Barlow abandoned you, and truth be told, it's hardly shocking," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain as he regarded you with a sneer. "You insist on playing the coy maiden, denying every man what he craves. It's the only reason they’re after you now, you see? They want what you didn't give Arthur. And it appears Colin has taken the lead in the chase, the lucky bastard."

His words brought you crashing back down to reality. Of course, he was colluding with Colin. You had conveniently overlooked that fact as you found yourself becoming bashful in his presence, feeling secure, even desiring his company after these recent days. A surge of bile rose in your throat.

You felt tears prickling in your eyes, and you were impossibly angry with yourself for forgetting the very reason you despised Colin Bridgerton. How could you have let yourself forget? He was still the same man you overheard at the Danbury ball, and you were too embarrassed to admit that his charm had worked on you.

You were disgusted with Nigel and Colin, but also with yourself. You were more than this, you chided. How could you have let this happen? The two men were clearly no good, and you had unwittingly allowed yourself to be ensnared, much like you had with Lord Barlow.

“Excuse me,” you said roughly, dodging Mr. Berbrooke’s outstretched hand as you ran toward where Isabelle and Charlotte were standing, propriety be damned.

“On va chez nous. Tout de suite,” you said to them urgently, practically begging as you tugged on Isabelle’s hand (We’re going home. Right now).

Charlotte looked at you, confused, and then noticed you glancing nervously at Nigel as he approached, angrily staggering over to you as his face contorted into an ugly scowl.

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry Mr. Berbrooke,” Isabelle said firmly, “but it seems we have to go.”

Not waiting for a response, your sisters hooked their arms in yours and hurriedly walked back from where you came. They’d be damned if he let anything else happen to you after what happened with Lord Barlow, and they were not about to waste any time.

Nigel only grunted, displeased, but let the three of you go without protest. Both of your sisters’ husbands were very powerful men, and Nigel was not so deluded as to forget his place in society.

“Y/N?” Charlotte questioned softly once you were sufficiently far away enough.

But you were too embarrassed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back sobs. How could you have let yourself fall for Colin’s charm? You knew exactly who he was, and you had ignored it anyway. It didn’t matter that he made you feel safe and that the two of you had more in common than you cared to admit. He would never respect you, and you could never love him.

Nigel had come at just the right time, you thought sullenly. Right as you were thinking you could finally overlook your rivalry with Colin, right as the memory of why you disliked him in the first place was fading. And thank heavens he did. You would not be taken for a fool again, by Colin or by Lord Barlow or by anyone.

—

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ohnopoteito · 8 months ago

Text

"something about you" ellie × reader

Reader entering a convenience store and falling in love with cashier Ellie.

a/n: Hello again everyone!!! i know it's been a long time since i first posted this fanfic and I'm so sorry for that :( honestly i wasn't expecting all those likes and all 😭😭😭 thank you so much for receiving my work so well!!! I'll organize everything better later bc I'm so tired rn

c/w: i don't know??? maybe low self steem stuff, anxiety knocking reader's door, still a fluff fanfic!!! notproofread (im not wearing my glasses pls) + english is not my first language but feel free to correct me!!! just enjoy it pookies ;))

chapter two ♡

Waking up that morning was just as light as a feather, a slight and good anxiety running through your veins and flesh, boosting your body to jump out of bed and start your day. Good appearance was what you've chosen for the day, wondering even if you should brush your teeth twice before leaving home and head to your mission of the day, get the auburn hair cashier's name or something you could have to be close to her, just the thought of that was enough for a smile from ear to ear to bloom on your face.

Backpack around your shoulders as you left your place and walked with excited silly steps to the convenience store where your heart raced almost passionately. Across the street, you could watch an unknown and masculine figure organizing cardboard boxes in the store facade, scrunching your face and fixing your dirty glasses — the ones you forgot cleaning after saying you'd clean the following day —, you could tell the man had already grey hair and wrinkled face, but he still managed to have a good appearance.

Taking a deep breath and crossing the street, you wondered if it really was a good idea, anxious thoughts wrecking you once again, frowning as you realize your body stading in front of the store for long five minutes. Your breath stuck in your throat, her figure from afar and those beautiful physical traits were carefully perceived by your curious eyes.

Too distracted to even notice the environment around you, a gentle palm rested on your tense shoulder, causing you to jump in response. The same man you eyed before, he smiled at you as his hands brushed his leather coat before speaking.

"Sorry if I scared you." His voice was deep yet caring for you, a faint smile could be seen.

"No, it's fine! I was just... distracted." You spoke up kindly, your hands sweating as your fingers fidgeted to relieve your anxiety. "Sorry for asking, but do you work here?" Was the best you could speak, and the only response you got was a cracked chuckle.

"Guess what, it's a funny part." He said as his long feet stepped a way from you, signing for you to follow him as well. You tilt your head to the side, wondering if you were about to be kidnaped or something, but you follow his path calmly. You stood next to him as his hand raised and pointed to the storefront sign.

"Joel's" you whispered as your eyes scrunched in an attempt to read clearly despite the bright sun making your eyes sting, you could read properly the store's name after having only an blurred image of the sign in your subconscious.

You looked at him, waiting for something, but his smile only grew more. "Guess what my name is." He finally said.

You blinked a few times, guiding your eyes to look around before responding, "Joel?" You sounded unsure. The answer was obvious, but you couldn't believe he'd be so predictable.

He burst in laugh after that, you could just give him a smile back nervously, he was acting like it was the funniest thing ever, you felt guilty for not laughing and looked to the sign again, faking a chuckle as you avoided looking at him.

"Everyone find it funny." He said as his finger brushed his eyelids, wiping away a tear that was about to run down the corner of his eye. You covered your mouth, thinking what just happened.

Your hand followed to the back of your neck, scratching lightly. "Yeah, it's really funny..." you said uncertainly, your words falling falsely from your lips.

"Um, I have... to go, so..." You stuttered as you walked away slowly.

"No problem, dear." He waved gently. You really wanted to find that funny but, god. "We have some products on sale, check them out!

You smiled once again before turning back him and heading to the local market.

As you entered the place, your figure walked to a random section, it was just some snacks in. Your eyes scanned some of them, a sound of the rubber sole of a sneaker sliding across the floor close to you.

"I saw that." The familiar husky voice tone made your body shiver,

Your body turned to face the figure in front of you quickly enough to have a spasm when you met those intense and tired green eyes observing your facial features.

"What?" Your eyes widened.

"You and Joel." she said with a lazy smirk, her arms crossed and her weight shifting to her left leg. "The storefront sign thing." Her eyes looked away, her side profile holding you in a trance. The daylight highlighted her pale skin and the freckles that ran all over her face.

You could swear you've seen a smile on her dry lips. "You were just another victim." She sounded happy, even though her tone of voice made it hard to discern her emotions.

"I wasn't a victim, I just went with the flow." A soft answer, hands touching the shelves to spare all the energy on your nerves, eyes looking at a blind spot behind the auburn girl. A deep breath before finally speaking again.

"Do you also have a different way to present yourself?" You could feel a drop of sweat forming on your scalp. "Like, just as creatively as Joel?"

The girl right before you bit her lip, peeling the dry skin as her eyes were locked on her old black converse.

"No, I'm just ordinary. No signs with my name." She smiled at you. Your heart skipped a beat when her eyes met yours.

"I'm Ellie."

Your smile bloomed sweetly, "cute." You thought

Ellie smiled softly when you told her your name as well, crossing her arms against her chest, her arm tattoo plainly visible. The ink was a bit faded, so you deduced it had been tattooed a long time ago. You couldn't keep the conversation going for more than that. The best you could do was pick a random snack you didn't even like and pay for it, only to see Ellie smiling at you as she handed you your shopping bag.

You kept this way for the rest of the week, waking up earlier, going to Joel's and choosing some product only to see her face and have an ordinary short talk, repeat the last steps after your classes. "Am I being too weird?" You thought with yourself after leaving the local market once again.

Ellie seemed to not care, at least. Maybe she just doesn't care. You should save your money and stop being stupid.

But you couldn't. You pressed your lips tightly as you entered the convenience store after your classes, the guilt making your shoulders heavy and tense. Walking silently through the sections that you had already memorized every product of each one of them, chewing your inner cheek, trying to think straight and stop yourself, you began to feel... sad.

It couldn't be a wasted time walking more than the usual way you took. Shrugging off your thoughts, you grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the checkout counter for the last time, you've promised to yourself. Your eyes avoided Ellie as you watched her take the bottle and scan it.

"You good?"

She was the one to speak first, her fingers lightly caressing her eye bags, her eyes fixed on you. It was as if everything had just stopped around you; you couldn't listen to a single word. Her lips were moving, but you couldn't understand a thing. Your mind went blank. You could only shake your head slowly, blinking in an attempt to wake yourself up from that trance.

"Um?" You hummed, your mouth went dry.

And she... laughed?

"What?" You asked again, your eyes laid on the chunky notebook next to the cash register before returning to Ellie.

"I asked if you're fine." She muttered, handing you the plastic bag. "You look disoriented today. Just worried."

At least you know she doesn't hate you, you let out a sigh in relief.

"Ah, I see..." You swallowed, holding the plastic bag and feeling the tip of her fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Maybe I am."

You squeezed the bag slightly, letting your palm feel the cold water drops sweating the plastic.

"I hope you figure it out." Her voice was soft. Your lips formed a thin smile. Her tone sounded just as sincere. You didn't know much about Ellie, and she was in the same boat as you. She couldn't push boundaries either, and she still could understand your odd behavior even if it wasn't her business. A safe distance.

"Don't need to pay for it, by the way." She rested her left hand on the back of her neck, massaging the area.

"What? But i want to." You answered.

"No, you don't." You frowned as she turned her back to you and began to look for something in her old backpack, a spaceship pin decorating the blue fabric. "Consider it as a gift, will you?"

You couldn't hold your tongue much longer. "Why is that?"

She didn't answer you immediately, Ellie spent some seconds in silence.

"You know, you're a frequent customer and polite... I mean, I just think some good action would make your night better." She sounded nonchalant, but you could hear a "Man..."

"I don't know, I'm not the best at cheering people up. Sorry." She spoke again before turning back to you. "Here, for you."

A dinosaur sticker pad, in the same art style as the others you'd seen around the store, the same as the one on the cover of her notebook. One sticker pad with four dinosaur stickers on it.

Your smile was sincere and bright as a sunshine, tilting your head to the side, you admired the art style and Ellie's cute actions.

"This is the best I can do... for now." Her hands rested on her hips. She was wearing old, faded, skinny jeans and her uniform shirt. Her teeth peeled the dry skin of her lips.

"It's perfect, thank you." Your smile didn't fade away.

It wasn't a kid sticking dinosaur images after all; it was just Ellie. The auburn-haired girl, the one with an intimidating posture and such an intense gaze, with those beautiful green eyes that could make your knees weak. She was just someone trying to cheer up a frequent customer, wasn't she?

Your eyes fixed on her freckles, overthinking again. Wondering if you should postpone asking for her number. You couldn't screw that up.

"Ellie?" You called her name, feeling your body shiver just by saying her name. Your skin felt warm as her eyes met yours again, those green orbs focusing solely on you.

Were you seeing things? Or Ellie seemed... interested in what you had to say? No, not at all.

"Um?" Her eyebrows rose slightly, a relaxed expression on her face. She seemed tired, just like the last day, but not uninterested.

"I..." You laughed nervously, already regreting the other words you were holding in your throat. Nails scracthing the back of your neck as you looked around, "I don't know if I should say this." A nervous smile made Ellie tilt her head to the side, the poorly tied bun left some strands of hair coming out.

"Why? Is there something off?" She asked as her gaze frowned.

Your fingers caressed the sticker pad. "It's just that... I wish I had more knowledge about dinosaurs." It was true, indeed. You would learn everything just to talk to her. You looked at her again, her head lowered, her sneaker sole playing with the floor.

Your tired eyes landed on her figure. You weren't really expecting an answer. You had just thought aloud, and you were okay with that. You were okay with her silence, the lack of dialogue between you. The silence was friendly. It felt good.

"I can teach you." She almost whispered; she wasn't looking at you, but you were noticing every detail of her body language. "If you're okay with that, of course."

You were both blushing, your heart beating so fast you were almost sure you would pass out. Your blood rushed to your feet, preparing you to run. But you didn't want to; anxiety is so dumb.

"This is so stupid. I don't even know why I said that. Sorry." She brushed her palm over her face. You frowned lightly, concerned.

"No! It's fine, I'd love that, honestly." You waved to her, "I just..." You bit your inner cheek, heart beating faster.

"I wanna talk to you more. If you're okay with that too."

Ellie smiled at you, a thin smile to you as her eyes seemed to smile as well. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach. Ellie was something you had never experienced before.

"Can I get your number?" she stuttered.

!!!

omg guys it's so stressful to write dialogues 😩

anyway i hope everything is okay and in place!!!

taglist 💋💋💋!!!

thank you again everyone!!!

@yourelliewillms

@lil-elliesgf

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#ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #fanfic #sapphic

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politemenacephd · 8 months ago

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Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Mig is rutting, workplace sex, fear kink, breeding kink, intercrural sex, copious sexual fluids, oral sex, tongue play, hormone scenting, unresolved sexual tension.

Word count: 11,000 Notes: IM BACK BUT ALSO THIS IS A LONG ONE LMAO IM SORRY

Mig stuck to his word as Autumn continued to roll in.

You would be his, no matter what.

The days passed and soon Nueva York was a beautiful patchwork of dull oranges and reds, with the upper city parks creating a gorgeous spread of burnt amber grass beneath the cold sun. Mig’s own universe went much the same way, with his forest home going from a bright evergreen to a spread of dark greens and slowly melting auburn shades as the trees lost their hue. You woke every day in his nest to a new blanket of leaves coating your front door, each load bigger than the last, and soon it was clear that winter was approaching.

You were getting chillier in the mornings, even with Mig’s huge, fluffy body at your side. More and more you were relegated to sleeping beneath his folded form like a baby bird beneath its watchful parent, and at a certain point the bed was so covered in silk blankets it looked almost like a mountain.

More of your stuff from your apartment made its way in too. Your clothes, your toothbrush, your kitchen utensils, your bathroom supplies.

It was a strange mismatch. The nest was rustic, with Mig’s makeshift tools and handspun tapestries, which made all of your modern appliances look out of place. There was nothing more jarring than a portable electric toothbrush sitting next to a hand-carved wooden basin over a bamboo drip, which was your version of a sink, or your phone sitting next to the firepit he used to boil water.

It was strange, yes, but welcome. It really was beginning to feel like home.

It was just that, with home, came pressure.

Time was passing, and it was passing fast. In those sweet early months with Mig it’d felt like you had all the time in the world, but the world was proving that wrong.

You had to find a solution to your universal separation, a way to prove that you and Mig could safely cohabitate forever, and potentially have a family if you desired that in the future. If you couldn’t prove it was safe, the society couldn’t sanction it any further. They couldn’t risk anything that might cause multiverse instability.

That left only two outcomes to this relationship, but in Mig’s mind, there was only one outcome he was willing to accept, and that was success. He was beyond the curious, testing phase of the relationship, the tepid exploration of lust and companionship.

He was in love. He was madly, inescapably in love with you, and he would not let you go.

This left him in a state of feverish devotion to his work, and he spent almost all his free time in Miguel’s labs working out the calculations to a cross-universe serum. At first, he tried to bring you with him, since he missed you far too much, but that ended poorly. He felt too bad making you stay up in Miguel’s office, where you’d inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion and Miguel would have to cover you in a blanket.

So instead he started doing calculations late into the night in the nest while you slept beside him. He even started doing calculations in his sleep. You’d wake to find wall after wall covered in markings you couldn’t comprehend.

The only other hiccup in his way was that he was also totally devoted to helping Micaela and Gabriel. Much of his and Miguel’s previous work had been put to the side to focus on her, using their joint background in genetics to find a cure for her ailment.

Miguel was obviously far more concerned with protecting the existing Micaela than with securing Mig’s future, and while it frustrated you both you couldn’t exactly blame him. Micaela did come first, and he was right to prioritize her, but the uncertainty in your future was becoming a strain.

Mig wanted to start living again, to hope again. He wanted to sleep beside you knowing that you were his, forever and always, and that he wasn’t a doomed abomination. He wanted to know you’d be with him until the end.

No more lonely wailing in the woods. No more singing for a person who would never come.

He wanted to live. He wanted you. He wanted his family.

But the longer their work took, the less certain it felt. Every little re-calculation felt like a punch to the gut, and every mission or postponement felt like a weight on his back.

But you can’t stay in limbo forever.

Closure had to come eventually, one way or another.

…

‘Come on, come on…’

You struggled not to impatiently tap your foot as you peered around the line ahead. You had to crane your neck to see over the 10 or so other spiders all idly waiting for their turn at the counter.

You were waiting in line at the HQ cafeteria to get lunch for you, Miguel and Mig, something you did almost every day now as an unusual little trio. The boys, as you called them, were utterly fixated on their dual projects, and while you weren’t much use scientifically you were the one little lifeline they had left to sanity and stability.

If left to their own devices they’d science themselves into husks. This left you the task of keeping them grounded, keeping them fed, and slapping them back into reality when need be.

It was slightly grating to be around two supergeniuses all the time. Mig was a sweetheart as always, and while he could be a little annoying when he talked to you like a child, he was never condescending or mean. Miguel, on the other hand, was very condescending. He had a need to explain, a need to teach, but he had the patience of a mouse and a tendency to get sassy if you ever got anything wrong.

However, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy your time with the two. Now Miguel had cooled down he really did seem to be making a difference in his attitude, especially after meeting Gabriel and Micaela. He was short-tempered and stressed, and that would probably never change, but there was an unspoken gentleness to his attitude now. It was almost, protective.

And Mig…

Your face grew warm at the thought of him. His smile. His soft-spoken compliments. His little abdomen wriggles. His big, open, honest eyes, peering down at you as they practically dripped with affection.

Your mind wandered to his breath on your neck in the morning, when he’d blow your hair aside to kiss your forehead. That warmth grew exponentially.

Mig was always perfect. Not literally, but to you… Yes. He was perfect.

‘Hey!’

You jumped in place as someone tapped your shoulder. You spun back and forth only to realize that the line had moved three spaces ahead, and you’d been too lost in your little daydream to notice. The spiders behind you did not look impressed.

‘Sorry! Shit—just a second.’

You stammered an apology and hurried forward, trying to ignore the curious stares you get. The morbid interest in Mig’s lover never seemed to go away.

You stayed hyper-vigilant as you waited to finally reach the front of the cafeteria. You’d replayed asking for your order so many times that it practically tumbled from your lips when you reached the server, making you appear like some kind of empanada-loving robot.

As you made your way back to the office you couldn’t help but pause to admire the new décor.

The whole building was covered in dainty, slightly tacky Halloween objects, coating the walls from top to bottom. It was all in place for the Halloween party tomorrow. There were skrunkly little paper spiders hanging from the high beams, orange cut-outs of cats and pumpkins plastered to the wall.

It was almost painfully twee, but you kind of loved it. It felt authentically true to form for this place. You also knew Miguel had refused to spend any more than the absolute bare minimum on decorations out of spite, since he hated the idea of doing this in the first place. Hosting events and being considerate of members' well-being was one thing, but being drawn out of work to wear costumes was, ironically, not his forte.

Unfortunately, despite being the de-facto leader, he’d been outvoted by the other elites, along with every other Spider in the society. You’d been subjected to his rambling about this for almost a week. Luckily, he didn’t know you’d also voted to have the party.

You prodded a little cheap plastic bat that was hanging from the ceiling as you hopped from the beams into the main corridor before Miguel’s office.

You were quick as you hurried down the same familiar route; passed the Spiders crowding the hall, passed the rudimentary go-home machine, and down the darkened empty corridor filled with Miguel’s old suits and gadgets.

As you approached the door you were hit by the smell of metal and the low hum of a machine. It vibrated through your bones in the most eerie way, causing the walls around you to jitter as if moving.

You instinctively slowed down.

Shit, they were in the middle of running their experiments again.

You crept up to the entrance to Miguel’s office and carefully nudged the door aside, being careful not to dip in any further. You didn’t want to startle them.

‘Pressure at 53%’

Lyla’s voice floated out from beneath the eerie hum as you peeked around the doorway. The office was usually dark, awash with cold navy light and the dull orange glow of Miguel’s monitors, but right now it was alight with an almost supernatural glow emanating from its center. It cast odd shadows across the walls and floors, like hands sneaking up to grasp you.

‘Lyla! Speed it up.’

‘Pressure at 73%. I’m going as fast as I can!’

That was Miguel’s voice, you thought. It was nearly identical to Mig’s but you knew them both well enough now to pick them apart. You peered a little further into the room.

‘Qué chingada… Come on.’

Mig hissed a few more curses under his breath as his abdomen rustled.

He’d bent his front legs like a horse so he could grasp the computer with both hands, and he was right on the verge of physically shaking it. Every

He was so close, so damn close. He’d gotten the formula down to a predicted 3% success rate, and if he could just get a few more test runs in, he’d have it. He’d have you.

‘Alright! Are you ready?’

Miguel called down to Mig from his floating office. He had to about halfway in the air, allowing him to look down on Mig as he ran some sort of experiment.

You could see the enormous table they were always huddled around, covered in glass jars and holographic screens all flashing with a million numbers at once. As you sank against the door frame, you noticed that the crackling was getting louder.

‘Pressure at 89%. Almost there.’

You could see something starting to spin on the table, creating a whirring noise akin to a helicopter’s blades. The sound was triggering every instinct in your body to run, to hide, and you had to fight yourself just to continue watching.

‘Hold it steady!’

‘I’m holding steady.’

The light expanded until you were forced to squint and pull away, hiding yourself behind the door. The sound was unbearably loud, the whirring grating on your ears as the light grew brighter and brighter.

‘Pressure at 98%...’

‘99%’

‘100%!’

And then—

A crackle filled the room and the light dimmed in a single split second, leaving the room in darkness. You had to wipe your eyes to adjust to the dimness. Everything smelled like hot metal, and you could see smoke drifting up into the rafters of the office.

‘Serum stability at 99%’ Lyla’s voice called out, followed by a sharp bark of a growl.

‘ARGH!’

Mig pulled back and kicked one of the loose chairs right into the wall, almost totally obliterating it with the faintest display of aggression. ‘¡Jueputa! Chingada Madre!’

As the low whirring of the machine dulled, he began to pace, his spider legs scuttling back and forth. His abdomen was shaking dangerously, that much you could see. He had his head in his hands and seemed to be trying his hardest to not lose his temper any further.

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest at the sight.

Miguel was cursing beneath his breath as he put out the fire. ‘God damn it… Lyla, what keeps going wrong?!’

‘It’s just routine checks, Miguel. It’s totally normal.’

‘We’ve been stuck at 99% for a week!’ Miguel barked back, ignoring Lyla’s slightly snarky tone.

‘99% is good! That’s better odds than your watch had when you tried it out’ she argued back. You could faintly see her hologram floating in the air beside them, pacing back and forth across the open air. Miguel bitterly waved his hand through her digital form.

‘Yeah, and I was stupid to do so. I can’t approve it until it's 100%.’

‘Maybe the calculations are off’ Mig murmured to himself. You saw him drop back down to the computer again, grasping at its mass like it was a person who he could shake sense into.

‘My calculations aren’t off!’ Miguel snapped back in a slightly harsher tone. ‘I know what I’m doing!’

You could see the tension rising. They’d just keep getting more and more irritable if they remained fixated on their work. You decided now was the time to step in.

With a huff you pushed the office door aside and bellowed towards them. ‘Hey! Come on guys, break time!’

The sound of you voice drew Mig to snap and turn, a motion so inhumanly fast he nearly wrenched the entire computer apart from with his hands. Miguel had to step in and shove him off just to salvage it.

‘¡Tonto! Ah, ten cuidado’ Miguel snapped under his breath, though Mig heard none of it. He didn’t even respond when Miguel elbowed him away.

He was fixed on you, watching you run down the corridor towards him. The way you smiled, the way you bounced as you sped up. He couldn’t stop his abdomen rustling and vibrating with a deep, profound sense of joy. Miguel noticed that too and promptly rolled his eyes.

‘Miggy!’

You squeaked and jumped up into his arms, with the enormous spider catching you with instinctive prowess. He drew you up to his chest and held you like a large cat.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred. ‘I missed you.’

‘They were gone for 15 minutes’ Miguel sarcastically replied.

‘I know’ Mig replied, his big crimson eyes still fixed on you. He kept tilting his head to get a better angle of your face, deliberately staring until you got flustered and tried to look away. You could feel him nosing at your hands as you covered yourself. Your quiet giggling was almost addictive to him.

‘It was still too long…’ Mig whispered against your fingers. ‘Too long…’

‘Still too long— Alright! Come on, computers finished that round. We can break.’ Miguel grunted and pushed the computer aside as he stood, his hands outstretched. ‘Can I eat, then? Or did you forget about me?’

You pulled back your hands and peered down at Miguel. ‘Forget? What? I wouldn’t forget about you.’

‘Ahuh. What about—’

‘Oh my god—I forgot your lunch order ONE time!’ you cried, cutting him off before he could bring up the same story he always brought up. Despite himself, Miguel’s lips did tilt into a slight smile.

‘Exactly. Once. And you could do it again’ he replied in a slightly snarkier tone. You huffed and threw his box of empanadas at his chest, which he caught mid-air with his webs.

‘You went—you were on a mission twice—’

‘Ahuh, ahuh—’

‘So, I had to remember to NOT get your order—’

‘Yep, keep digging that grave—’

‘I had to remember to NOT get your order the second time, because you sent that memo saying it was wasteful to leave your food, and then the third time you didn’t DIRECTLY tell me you wouldn’t be on a mission, so I didn’t have it there! I am not in the wrong!’

You burnt your throat out while rambling off your excuse. Miguel just kept trying to hide his growing smile of endearment as he webbed his way up to his floating desk, leaving you and Mig to sit beneath him.

‘It’s not my job to babysit you. If you can’t check the schedule that’s something for you to fix, not me. Consider it… character building’ Miguel replied smoothly.

‘Next time I won’t get it deliberately’ you huffed, before reaching into the bag and giving Mig his order. He purred as he took it. ‘At least you’re grateful, Miggy’ you mumbled, which caused him to purr even louder.

‘Always, arañita.’

As Mig folded his legs and settled down on the floor you sat at the front of his abdomen, snuggling into his fur with your meal resting on your folded legs. You could hear Miguel grunting with barely suppressed pleasure as he started eating above you.

Mig paused then as his watch buzzed. He glanced down and awkwardly tapped it at with his huge claws until he finally got it to recognize his touch.

‘Mm? It is—Oh!’

Mig’s face lit up into a smile as a hologram flashed up from his watch, revealing a line of text and a blurry picture. You tilted your head out of curiosity.

‘Hm? What's up?’

‘It’s ah- Gabriel. I’ve been re-learning how to text so that we may, converse, more easily, and he has sent me a picture of Micaela.’ Mig sounded so proud as he spoke, and his eyes as they flitted over the picture were deeply endeared. It filled you with joy to see him looking so comfortable.

‘Oh! That’s nice, that’s good. I’m glad you’re properly keeping in touch now. What’d he say?’

‘Mm! Well, last night he was telling me about how bad the hospital food is. I offered to send him some of my deer meat, which he seemed to find humorous, and today he has sent me a picture of his mates cooking and—’

‘They don’t use mate, Mig, that’s his wife’ Miguel added.

‘Wife. Yes. I forget… Ah, his mate- wife¸ gave him food to sneak into the hospital, and he has sent me a picture of him eating it with Micaelita.’

He glanced at the photo for the second time as he spoke, and the sight caused him to purr all over again. He’d only known his baby niece for a few months now, but he truly loved that little girl. He had an outlet at last for all his pent-up paternal instinct, and seeing her happy brought him so much joy.

‘How is the um- I mean I guess, sensitive subject to bring up, but… How is the serum going?’ you asked.

‘Well, Micaela’s stuff is almost fully done’ Miguel replied. Mig was too busy trying to catch an unseemly long bit of cheese now dangling between his mouth and his empanada to speak, so his variant took over with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Luckily, we buckled down and, Lyla did a lot of the work. Scanning the multiverse for somewhere with more advanced medicine was pretty easy, unfortunately the place we found with the right equipment does not have a Spider-man in it for easy contact.’

‘Did you need to go there to get it, though?’ you asked. You were trying to listen while also teasingly nipping in to steal from Mig’s string of cheese, something he found both adorable and aggravating.

‘Luckily again for us, uh—no. Not really. We scanned a few computers and managed to replicate it here’ Miguel explained. ‘Micaela should be just fine.’

‘Yes! But, it means we’re behind on the solution for us’ Mig said as he finally swallowed his food. ‘Which, we are trying to resolve, right?’

‘Jess is getting antsy’ Miguel remarked, more to himself than to you or Mig. He was picking at his own empanada bit by bit, taking off little chunks which he then threw into his mouth and slowly chewed between his fangs. He chewed his food like nicotine gum, as if he was in constant deep thought. ‘Everyone is. Especially with the anomalies getting worse.’

‘I mean… that’s not, our fault, right?’ you said.

Miguel didn’t reply for a moment. He stared into the distance before double-taking at you, almost as if taken by surprise. ‘What? No. No, it’s your fault. It’s… we’re not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But, it’s not you.’

‘Oh… Good.’ You weren’t sure you believed him, but you also weren’t willing to press the issue. ‘But, um—I mean regardless it’ll be okay, right? We’re, getting close?’

To your relief, Miguel did nod as he swallowed his last bite of empanada. ‘Mhm. Mm… Yeah. I think it should be finished soon, if we can just complete the last checks.’

‘Checks?’

‘The stabilization test-runs’ Mig said. He’d finally finished his meal as was now paying very close attention to you, ensuring you continued to eat in between asking questions. He’d grab or gently nudge your hand up to your face to ensure you took bites. He was fussy, yes, but very sweet.

‘De-stabilization, huh? Sounds scary’ you added between quick bites of your sandwich.

‘Catastrophic’ Miguel corrected.

‘Not—necessarily’ Mig said as he wiped crumbs from your face. ‘All it means, is that we need to ensure the serum won’t de-stabilize and cause any anomalous activities or holes when used. We’re delicately re-organizing multiverse DNA, but, we are handling it with utmost care.’

‘You don’t need to convince me, Miggy, I believe you’ you snorted back.

Mig opened his mouth to speak again when a low beep drew his attention away. It was Miguel’s watch, most likely a message, and whatever it was had turned his contented expression into a deeply sour one.

‘Ah… Mierda. So stupid.’

He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped from his office back down to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

‘What’s up?’ you called over.

‘It’s Jess. It’s this Halloween party, ah—I didn’t even vote for it! But I’m the leader, apparently, of course I only become leader when it suits them—’

You paused Miguel mid-rant by snapping your fingers. ‘Miguel! Come on, to the point. You’re rambling.’

‘Ay, don’t be rude. What I meant to say, then, is apparently I have to go approve these new decorations. I’ll be back soon, we’ll finish the second test run when I’m done.’

Miguel had begun walking before you could even think to say anything else, so you and Mig just resorted to waving him off with a soft ‘bye!’. He shot you a deflated thumbs up over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

Silence fell in the wake of his departure, and for the first time you were alone with Miguel. All you could hear in the office was Mig’s thudding heart and his slow, rhythmic breathing against your scalp.

‘Arañita?’

You blinked and leaned back against his abdomen until his face came into view. His eyes were wide, and as they watched you awkwardly blowing his fluff out of your eyes, they dilated. ‘I didn’t get to mention, this morning…’ He paused and swallowed. ‘You look, radiant today, mi amor. You look very, pretty.’

The second those words left his mouth you broke out into a dumb little smile. You tried to look away, but Mig was quick to catch your chin with his claw, forcing you to hold his gaze. His eyes softened.

‘No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you want to.’

‘Miggy…’

‘That is not to say that you don’t always look pleasing. You do. But I wanted to tell you today. I feel I don’t tell you enough.’

‘You make it more than clear how you feel about me, Mig’ you whispered back. His fur was warm and sweet on your cheek, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into it. ‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘Mm… But I will, mi amor’ he whispered back. God, he loved saying that. He’d say it all day every day if given half the chance. ‘Mi amor, you are such a beautiful creature. I am grateful every second of every day that I have you as my mate.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks growing in tandem with the lightness in your chest. You squealed internally as he smiled down at you, his face filled with open, honest sincerity. ‘Yeah, well… I could say the same about you too, so… you know’ you murmured. His eyes narrowed with barely suppressed joy.

‘Do I know?’

‘You… Yes, but—Okay. You are also, a beautiful creature, and I am extremely grateful every millisecond of every day that I met you’ you replied with a teasing jab. He chuckled, and when you chuckled back, he bent his torso down to meet your own.

‘I missed you’ Mig whispered. You could feel him nosing at your hair as he spoke, taking deep and lingering breaths around the crown of your head.

‘I missed you too, Mig’ you whispered back. The warmth of his fur was nice on your back as you leaned into him, relishing the small moment of peace and quiet. You could hear nothing but a distant beep of some nebulous electronics and the soft, deep breaths Mig was savoring above you. You could tell he was huffing your scent.

‘You, uh… you sure are smelling me a lot, lately’ you said. The break in silence and the bluntness of the question caused Mig’s eyes to shoot open.

‘… I am?’

‘Mhm.’

‘As in, more than usual?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Oh, I—I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘No! No, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it was an issue. I just…’

You slowly rolled your head back to catch his gaze, only to wind up nose to nose with him. You felt his breath on your lips as you both locked eyes. The warmth, the proximity, it made something familiar in your gut tighten and twist.

Mig purred. ‘Then, how did you mean it, arañita?’ he whispered.

You felt that sweet tightness in your gut twisting tighter, and without even thinking your thighs squished together. Mig’s eyes darted down, catching that tiny act, before sliding back up and narrowing ever so slightly. He let you catch his tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip.

‘I meant, ah… I meant, I just, noticed it. It—it’s usually a sign that, something else is going on, you know?’ you stammered back.

‘I know what you’re referring to, mi arañita’ he murmured back. ‘Are you implying I might be heading into a rut?’

‘Well… I wouldn’t, dare, assume, but…’

You felt your breath starting to catch as your heart rate sped up, matching the steady rhythm of his own thundering beat. You could see his eyelids drooping, his abdomen gently jerking back and forth like a dog wagging its tail.

The growing heat was physically palpable. It was like the sun on your skin, itchy and hot. ‘We’re in the office’ you whispered softly. You’d both drifted so close now that you could feel his lips on your own. Mig was panting, breathing in you, verging right on the edge of snapping you up and eating you whole.

‘Yes…’

‘Mig… W-We’re in the HQ, we—’

‘We’re in the office…’

Mig pressed one sweet, tender kiss against your lower lip, but he lingered just long enough to let you know that, if he could, he’d have bitten down on that lip in a second. You stammered out a shaky whine in response.

‘Mig, we can’t.’

‘Do you want to go back to the nest?’

‘What if Miguel comes back? We need to—finish the, stupid work—’

‘Then here.’

‘Mig—’

You paused your soft whispering to kiss for the second time. It was almost reflexive, with your lips losing focus and going against your better judgement to press up against his. You’d kiss once and then pause, as you both brushed against the realm of better judgement for a fleeting second, only to kiss each other once more.

Soft then hard, lingering and passionate, tasting him for just a second until it got too painful to not kiss him again.

‘Mm—Mig, mm—’

‘Arañita…’

You felt his tongue slip out and obediently parted your lips, letting your tongues wind between your barely open mouths. You could taste his breath, you could feel the heat brewing in him as he tried to slip into your open maw. At this point your skin was burning, and worst of all, you could feel your clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.

You were a shivering, burning mess. You’d gone too far.

‘Miggy— Mm… Miggy, come on—’

‘Arañita…’

‘If, Miguel comes back—’

As you withdrew from the kiss Mig moved closer, gripping your waist with his thick, heavy claws so you couldn’t pull away. He didn’t kiss you, but he did press his lips to your nose, and there he spoke again.

‘Don’t make me chase you, arañita.’

Those sweet, husky words whispering against your skin made you shudder. It was enough to make your insides clench and quiver, and Mig knew it.

‘F-Fuck, god damn it… hah… mm. Okay. You wanna play like that?’

You stealthily shifted your suit down by just the pants, taking your underwear with it. Not enough to be naked, but enough to get Mig hooked in the sweet scent you knew would drive him crazy. Just as planned, the moment your underwear went past that navel line, his pupils dilated.

‘Mm… arañita… You smell, delicious…’

He lowered his head with a speed and strength you knew you couldn’t match, but he did relinquish his grip on your waist to do so. You let him bury his nose between your thighs, slipping right into the little defined curve where your suit met your pussy lips, and he huffed like a madman.

‘Mmm… qué rico, mi arañita hermoso/a…’

He whined the words directly against your clothed cunt, letting you feel his lips and tongue moving against every ridge and inch he could get. You were sure that if you let him linger any longer he’d rip the fabric with his fangs and have himself a little dessert, and while part of you desperately wanted to let him, that wasn’t the plan.

You grabbed his hair and pulled, letting him get as pussy drunk as you could allow without fully tipping him over the edge.

‘Good boy, good, good boy…’

You held him there just long enough, until his spider legs were tapping that familiar mating rhythm and his abdomen was shaking with feverish intent, and then—

‘Catch me, big boy.’

You whispered those words before webbing yourself out of his grip, flying over his abdomen and landing squarely on the office floor behind him. You saw his claws grasping to try and catch you, but he was too late. You’d escaped.

He spun around just in time to see you hurrying into the dark corners of Miguel’s office. He hungrily growled. ‘Oh, arañita… Okay. We’ll play that game then.’ He licked the little traces of your scent from his upper lip, and he gave chase.

You webbed your way into the darkness and crouched down behind a pile of forgotten electronics, moving stealthily on four legs to avoid being seen. You could faintly see Miguel’s shadow as he moved through the office and toward your location. As he abandoned the light his eyes began to glow, illuminating the shape of his spindly legs with an eerie red outline.

‘Mi tesoro?’

The adrenaline was thick. You knew that it was just your sweet, gentle Mig roaming after you, but that didn’t stop the sweet, controlled dose of fear that you got whenever you played hide and seek with that enormous, skulking spider.

‘Naughty arañita… You like playing at this, don’t you?’

Mig purred softly as he crept around the edge of the lab. His paws were quiet underfoot, carefully padded to keep even his enormous body nearly entirely silent.

‘You like playing at being prey… So cute. You know what’ll happen when I catch you… Does that excite you, arañita? That I will rip those pretty clothes off and mate with you the moment you’re in my paws? Are you thinking about it right now?’

The echo of his voice drove you lower to the floor. You could hear him getting closer, but your cover was running out, and if you raised your head he’d surely see you and pounce. You didn’t want the fun to be over that quickly.

You began to back up instead, shifting along the wall until you found an opening. It felt like a door of some kind, and as you carefully, carefully creaked it open, you realized that you’d found an old, unused closet in the back of Miguel’s space.

‘Arañita…’

Miguel’s hungry, husky groan filled the air, alongside an animalistic rustling. It sounded like a rug being shaken out, or a rattlesnake, but you knew better. That was his abdomen prepping for his mating ritual.

You subdued your own shiver of excitement and slipped into the closet.

In here it was pitch black. You could feel the dust on the floor, betraying just how old this space was, and the trickle of light peaking in through the door wasn’t enough to go more than an inch into the closet’s depths.

You were forced to blindly shuffle until your hands hit a wall, forcing you to turn and shuffle backward until you met the same fate. Eventually, you stopped moving altogether, realizing that it was pointless, and resigned yourself to cowering in the dark like a rabbit.

You couldn’t hear Mig in here. Either that, or he’d stopped taunting completely.

It was terrifying how quiet he was. For something so big his soft paws muffled any sound he might have made, allowing him to move with little to no noise. He was a real predator, a creature at the top of his theoretical food chain, and you often forgot that yourself.

In the dark you waited, listening to your own heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the cold creeping up on you in here, giving you goosebumps on your arms. You felt the strain of the concrete floor on your knees.

But that wasn’t all you felt.

A heavy, overwhelming presence had abruptly settled against your back, and now something hot, warm and wet was sliding up your nape to the base of your skull. Instinctively your body tensed, but then you felt it again, and in a second that primal fear disappeared.

It was Mig’s tongue. He was licking your nape, tasting your scent with your highly adapted senses. He’d move in shyly, lapping once or twice, before nuzzling his nose into the thick of your hair and starting the cycle all over again.

‘I caught you, arañita.’

Your body began to relax. You felt his claws fondling your chest and rear in the darkness, squeezing your ass until his claws left a little imprint. His lips, too continued to grope at your nape, licking and nipping the skin until it bruised.

‘You know what that means.’

You let out a low groan. Between the fear, the heat, and now the dark, cramped space you’d been trapped in, there was no turning back now.

‘Mm… O-Okay, you win. Just… just a little…’

It took very little convincing for you to turn around and smash your lip into his. This time you didn’t hesitate before opening your mouth for him to explore, letting his huge, warm tongue slide into your mouth. He wound his tongue around your own, tasting your scent, your moans, everything he could get.

‘Mm… arañita…’

His hands began creeping up and down your body, squishing lightly at your belly and waist. He loved feeling the way your flesh moved beneath his fingers, how frail your ribs felt under his claws. He deepened the kiss.

‘Mm…’

You could feel that Mig was already getting erect. In the pitch black you could only rely on touch to sense any changes, and you could feel his soft phallus slowly beginning to peek out from the slit in his abdomen. It was twitching against your belly.

The kissing just barely muffled your sounds as you tried to speak. ‘Mm… Mm.. I-I can’t, get fully naked, but—’

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm—’

With a soft moan you broke the kiss, leaving the two of you panting into each other’s mouths. ‘I need to- be able to re-suit quickly if anyone comes in, you beautiful idiot.’

Without another word you shifted your suit pants down to the middle of your thighs, leaving just enough bare room for Miguel to slip himself between your legs. His eyes dilated at the sight.

‘Oh… r-right. Hah. Right…’ Mig purred as he grabbed your body and spun it around, bracing you in a slightly tilted position. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the closet walls, and with the bare minimum delicacy he could muster, he began to buck himself in.

‘C-Careful… just, s-stay still. I’ll be quick.’

He started thrusting, shifting his cock in the darkness as he searched for his prize. You felt that bulbous tip nudged at your back, then your ass, before slowly making its way down to the warm, sweet space beneath.

You bit your lip and braced yourself, internally prepping for the pressure. He paused, angled, and thrust.

However, he missed.

‘Ah! F-Fuck—’

In his haste, he slid right past your cunt. His cock was so big that it slid right between your thighs, settling between your pussy lips with a full handful of member poking out the other side. It almost made you dizzy, remembering that you so frequently let such a beast of a shaft inside you.

Mig groaned at your back and began slowly humping at your clenched thighs, shifting his plush phallus back and forth.

‘Mm… S-So, warm…’

You were quickly coated in thick, sticky pre-cum and your own slick as he began to thrust faster and faster, riding out his frustration. He was too eager to even stop and try to enter you properly. This would have to do.

With one hand over your mouth and the other bracing your body to the wall, you let Miguel rut his cock between your thighs, eagerly fucking them and your clit raw.

There was only one thought in your heads:

More. More…

You coyly grabbed the little bit of shaft slipping out the other side of your thighs and began to manually pump it with your fist, relishing in the warmth and the slipperiness against your palm.

‘A-Ah, arañita…’

Mig moaned your nickname into your hair as he continued rutting against your back, the double stimulation driving him absolutely mad. You were beside yourself as he continued grinding that soft, plush, velvety shaft up against your clit, using your slick as lubricant to slide a little easier.

MORE. MORE.

You bent forward and down, contorting yourself so that you could hungrily lap at your member. Mig barely stifled his predatory groans.

‘A-Arañita, ah—c-careful—!’

You slurped at his member until you could just about get a little of it between your lips, and while he continued furiously pumping between your thighs you began sucking on the tip. It was weirdly sweet, as always, though not in a sickly way. It was thick and slightly earthy, like raw, natural honey, and it soon coated your tongue in that sticky white fluid.

Mig, at this point, was losing his mind. He dug his claws into your hips to hold you steady as he began bucking without rhythm, driving himself into every crevice of your body he could.

‘Hah- o-okay, good arañita. G-Good. That’s it, lick it up.’

You allowed him to thrust between your parted lips and groaned. Mig was left breathlessly humping, with one hand still dug into your side and the other tenderly petting your hip as he rode out his frustrations into your mouth and between your legs.

‘Good, there you go. There you go. Mm… Así así, arañita, estás haciendo un buen trabajo.’

His sweet praise helped to ease the pain in your jaw as you took more of him in. The plush, squishiness of his cock made it easier to mouth and suck, but there was just so much of it. You were choking on the tip.

Luckily, Mig could only handle so much. He was utterly overstimulated, between the beautiful sensation of your lips and tongue on his member and the warmth and wetness of your thighs, topped off with the sight of you bent over and taking him from all angles—

‘Ah! Bájale, bájale, arañita.’

He pulled back and began patting your hip for clemency as your lips nearly drew him to a violent impromptu orgasm. You gasped as he withdrew. You were panting hard, slightly dazed from the pleasure and the blood rush to the head, your lips now a mess of saliva and pre-cum. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the little trail of fluid hanging between your lips and Miguel’s twitching member.

‘Ah… h-huh?’ you mumbled. ‘W-What?’

Mig had to tilt you back to an upright position himself, and there he hugged you close while still slowly pumping between your thighs.

‘Shh, that’s it arañita. You did so good. Just rest now, treasure, let me do the work.’

‘Mm… But—’

‘Let me do the work.’

He repeated those words in a sweet, cooing manner, drawing you to relax in his grip. It was easy to give in, especially with his shaft still gently massaging your swollen clit.

He wanted to focus on you now.

He drew back and began carefully thrusting at just the right angle, probing his hot and now very wet member was pressed right up to your clit. The sensation was hard to describe. All you knew is that you weren’t going to last long like this.

‘Ah… M-Mig, fuck…’

He kept you stabilized with his arms, allowing you to focus on just the pleasure of his movement.

‘You smell so good’ he moaned directly into your ear. ‘So good, arañita. I’d eat you up if I could. My beautiful, beautiful little spider. So—f-fucking, soft—’

He groaned out loud as he started to speed up, frantically squishing and grinding every inch of his cock between your lips. You could hear the manic, wet squelching of your own slick being papped back and forth by his movements, a soft ‘thwap’ that was getting louder and louder.

‘M-Mig—’

‘Mm, so soft, want you—covered in seed—’

‘Mig!’

‘Stuffed, s-stuffed with it. Stuff with my cum. Pretty little spider, full of my babies, full of my e-eggs—’

You tried to warn him, but Mig was too wrapped up in his own manic, heat-induced fantasy to notice. He was dizzy with the thought of web-knotting you, imagining his cock sliding right up to your cervix and then being webbed into place so none of his seed would spill. He was imagining you swollen with his offspring and resting in his silk den, his perfect little mate for life, fulfilling all of his desires.

You had no chance of stopping him, so you did the only thing you could do: you shuddered and orgasmed all over his shaft.

It was your barely muffled scream of pleasure that finally jolted him back to reality, and back to the gorgeous sight of your body trembling and spasming as it throbbed all over his member. He audibly gasped and twitched, letting his cock throb right back as he milked you for all the slick you would offer.

When your knees began to shake, he held you in place. Your weight was nothing to him. No matter what you weighed, with his size, he could have carried you like a kitten.

‘Mi amor’ he cooed into your hair. ‘Mi amor, mi amor… So beautiful. What a beautiful sight.’

‘Hah… f-fuck, uh… I-I can, barely feel my legs’ you panted back.

‘Shh. I’m here. You did so good, arañita.’

‘I-I didn’t, do anything, mi amor, I just… came’ you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

‘You did more than enough’ Mig purred sweetly. He took the chance to slide two fingers down between your lips and around your clit, letting your slick accumulate on his claws. Your body jerked at the sudden rush of stimulation.

‘Ah—’

‘More than enough. I’d pay to watch you do that again.’ Mig kissed your forehead as he slid his fingers back up and pressed them to his lips. You heard him licking them clean.

‘But I’ll take my payment another way, I think.’

You let out a shaky groan as he moved your body back into position. He was lining himself up again, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss.

You could feel his thick member pulsing at your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before its final penetration. He’d rock himself a few times, shifting just an inch in before pulling back out, just enough to make that sweet squelching pop ring out. He could picture it now: the sweet feeling of your cunt enveloping every inch of him, welcoming him in, squeezing the life out of him as you moaned his name.

His name. His mate. His.

‘That’s it, arañita, are you ready for me?’

‘Y-Yes, yes—fuck, please Mig—’

‘You want it?’

He bucked closer, preparing to push in. You cried out.

‘Yes, fuck, please!’

‘You want it?’

‘Yes!’

‘You want—’

‘Hey! Mig?’

Miguel’s voice echoing through the halls drew you both to an abrupt and awkward halt. God damn it.

Mig tried to force himself to push through it, with the animal half of his brain wanting to just ignore the call of his variant, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He slowly rocked to a stop and, with great reluctance, yanked his cock out from between your thighs.

‘Ah, my mistake… We got carried away again, didn’t we? Come here, mi amor. Let’s calm you down.’

He whispered those soft words into your hair as he yanked your body up and into his arms. He began applying as much desperate aftercare as he could; stroking your hair, kissing your neck and cheeks, stroking over and gently rubbing your muscles until the weakness in them subsided.

He held you with the utmost care while you struggled to recover from your orgasm. It was a big ask to compartmentalize all of the sweet arousal you’d just barely tasted.

‘Mig, you… b-but you didn’t fini—’

‘I’ll be fine, arañita’ Mig whispered. He was already carefully concealing his erection, letting it subside back into the little slot in which it was usually hidden. He was sweating from the strain, yes, but he had some control.

‘Mig, the rut—’

‘I have your slick covering my phallus with your scent’ he very bluntly murmured into the curve of your ear, causing you to shiver. ‘I wreak of you, arañita. That is enough for me right now. At least… It will tide me over, until I can get you home properly.’

You managed a small, slightly breathy giggle. ‘And then I’ll be your little cum dumpster, huh?’ you teased back. Mig purred.

‘You will be a good mate’ he whispered, ‘and you will do your duty by me, I’m sure.’

‘And that duty is?’

He leaned closer, gently nipping your earlobe. ‘Being, as you so brazenly put it, my little cum dumpster.’

You may have given in and fucked him right there in the closet space if Miguel hadn’t called out once more, drawing you back to the present.

‘Hey! Mig?’

You both gave a slightly similar sigh. You knew this was your own doing, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Miguel. You just couldn’t wait for this stupid serum to be done.

‘Alright, come on. Let’s go get back to work’ you whispered. Without another word you began frantically pulling your suit back into place, and once you were both relatively dressed and presentable you silently crept back out into the main officer together.

‘Mig?! Ay! Are you—Oh. Oh… ¡Ey, que la chingada!’

Miguel raised both hands to his face as you both sheepishly appeared from behind the loose paneling. He didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

‘In my office!’ he snapped. ‘My office— Dios Mio… It’s going to smell, in here, for- hours, if not days!’

‘No, it’s not’ you called back as you hurried over. ‘Calm down.’

‘DON’T—Don’t, tell me to calm down, YOU did this!’ he seethed.

‘We’re—it’s, stressful, with the heat, and- we are very sorry, I swear’ you hissed as you finally caught up to him. Mig remained sheepishly stone-faced at your back.

‘I’m stressed too!’ Miguel replied just as sharply. ‘¿Y que hay de mi? Eh? Nobodies around to relieve my stress, but you don’t see me complaining!’

You and Mig both blinked and glanced at each other before turning back to Miguel in near unison, all while he continued to heave his chest in righteous indignation. You allowed the silence to continue just long enough to make his eyes dart a little.

‘… What? Why are you staring at me like that?’ he hissed.

‘… I mean, are you asking to be involved?’ you replied bluntly. You just barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle as he blanked. The way his eyes widened, the way his lips drew back to flash his fangs in a mixture of intrigue, disgust and confusion. You knew your response would create that exact reaction, but it was funnier to fix him with a neutral expression as he scoffed.

‘You- no!’ he snapped back. ‘No, I wasn’t- no! No!’

‘Are you sure?’ you asked. As you spoke you coyly leaned forward, noting the way his eyes darted over your body. He was forced to physically turn his back on you to avoid being accused of anything unseemly.

‘Tienes una mente bien cochambrosa’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘Look, whatever traits me and him might share, there is one big goddamn difference, and that’s that I’m not a massive pervert.’

‘Aw, but you’re stressed, like you said! Come on, lemme help.’ You continued your teasing as you took a few steps closer. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your little tiptoe motion, and like a frightened deer he stumbled away.

‘What- no!’

‘Yeah, come on! I’ll help you out’ you cooed, your hands stretching out to grab him. He took another step back.

‘What are you- has the heat melted your brain or something?’

Miguel was getting more and more heated as you crept towards him, his irritation betraying the little auburn glow in his eyes and cheeks. Your eyes crinkled with joy; you could practically smell his inner thoughts, and he could definitely smell you.

‘Come ‘ere, Miggy’ you cooed again.

‘No! I will- I will subdue you! I’m warning you!’ he hissed, which only made you giggle more. You continued forward, and with each step you took Miguel scurried in the opposite direction. It was almost absurd to see that enormous, terrifying hybrid of a man fleeing from you in circles around his office, like a kitten chasing a guard dog.

‘I’m serious! If you don’t stop—’

‘Come on, come here!’

‘YOU- Hey, pendejo! Control your- mate!’

Miguel made a desperate plea to Mig as you both sped around his body, but Mig was enjoying himself at this point. ‘They are correct. You did say you were stressed’ he purred back, which caused Miguel to sneer at him.

‘MIG!’

With a grunt of exasperation Miguel sank his claws into the wall and began frantically climbing, forgetting that you could use your webs to follow. You pursued him up into the rafters and back down again, all while Mig watched with a smile on his face and his hands clasped in his lap.

You knew Miguel could have genuinely ended the chase immediately. He could have used a light cage, a web, anything really, but he didn’t. He let you chase him until you were exhausted, too tired to even finish swinging from the web you’d slung, and only then did he grab you by the nape and carry you back down himself.

He handed you over to Miguel like a stray cat, unceremoniously dumping you into his lap.

‘You are both a strain on my existence, and if I could I would have you both exiled to a barren universe where nobody would ever hear from you again’ he said in a totally deadpan voice, which only drove you into another fit of breathless giggling. Mig, too, chuckled a little in response.

‘No, come on. You love us’ you cooed back.

‘I hate you both. Sincerely. With absolute determination, in every universe.’

‘No, don’t lie! You love us!’

‘Dios mio— Alright. You, you—’ Miguel said, pausing just to point his claw in your face. ‘Yes, you, go help Jess with the Halloween party.’

‘What?! But—’

‘You are distracting my co-worker’ Miguel slowly repeated, cutting off any excuse you might have made. ‘You can mess around after our work is done. So, you know what? You’re taking over my Halloween duties. Got that?’

You instinctively shot Mig a look, expecting him to argue on your behalf, but the moment you locked eyes you realized he was technically right. Mig wanted you, badly, but he wanted to finish his work too. After a moment of silent conversation, you relented.

‘Alright’ you sighed, ‘alright, fine. I’ll go do the stupid party work.’

‘Good. Thank you’ Miguel said, though he clearly tacked the apology onto the end at the last minute. You took it regardless.

‘Actually, that means I can go get my costume’ you mused as you grabbed up your bags. ‘I’ll come show it to you later, you’re gonna LOVE it!’

‘I’m sure I will, arañita. Be careful’ Mig hummed back.

You reluctantly bumped foreheads with him, giving each other a very quick kiss to avoid starting up any more unwanted urges, and with that you hurried out of the room to go find Jess.

Mig watched you go with a slightly melancholic expression. He was doing a good job of hiding how badly he wanted you, how painful the rut was as it went unfulfilled, but he was less adept at hiding how much he missed you in general. He pined openly as he stared at the empty space where you’d been.

‘Come on, back to work’ Miguel snapped over his shoulder. He tossed him a pair of safety glasses to snap him back to reality, and after watching the enormous spider struggle to catch them he slipped on his own.

Mig paused and glanced between the glasses and the empty doorway, but he only allowed himself a moment to disassociate. After a few seconds of thought he obediently slipped the glasses on and got back into position at the desk.

‘Yes, sir.’

The two managed to work in silence for about a half hour, but there was a strange tension in the air that was hard to place. They were struggling to focus on their calculations or on the prep required to run the next test. Despite their attempts to hunker down and focus, it seemed inevitable that one of them would break the silence.

‘… You okay?’

It was Miguel who spoke first. Mig paused on his calculations and turned to glance at his counterpart, carefully shifting his glasses down so he could see him better.

‘Me?’

‘Yep. You’re the only one here, bud.’

‘… Yes. I am, fine’ Mig replied cautiously. ‘Are you, okay?’

‘Mhm.’

‘… Why do you ask?’

Miguel grunted and withdrew after soldering a single piece of metal together. He, too, raised his glasses, and fixed Mig with a veiled glare. ‘… I mean you were, copulating in my office’ he said bluntly.

‘… Ah. Right. Yes. I—Should apologize for that, I suppose’ Mig mumbled. He didn’t drop his eyes the same way you did, but he looked bashful enough to seem sincere. ‘I swear it was not personal, this time, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Yeah, I know’ Miguel sighed. ‘You’re just two stupid rabbits. I got it.’

Mig didn’t reply. He held onto that silence for a minute or so more before Miguel spoke again.

‘… Three, stupid rabbits. I know I can’t keep discounting myself.’

‘Mm. I do not, blame you for discounting yourself. I know our nature is frowned upon’ Mig replied in a kinder tone, one that irritated Miguel. He couldn’t stand Mig’s gentle nature. He knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Let’s just… focus on the experiment’ he grunted. Mig gave a curt nod, and he turned back to the table.

But they both knew that they couldn’t actually stay silent.

‘I think… if we try it this way, we might be able to get over that final 1% hurdle’ Miguel said after a minute's silence.

‘Mm. I hope so. I have high hopes for these next few trials’ Mig purred, giving his abdomen a happy little wiggle. ‘It has been a hard wait, but, I will be grateful to have it finished. I will be grateful for the help you offered. To finally be with mi arañita…’

‘Yep. You’ll get everything’ Miguel murmured. ‘If this works… You’ll get everything we both wanted.’

Mig’s purring dulled as he gazed over at his counterpart. ‘… You, make it sounds as if you are jealous of that fact.’

‘Do I? I hadn’t noticed.’

Miguel’s sudden, sarcastic tone caught Mig off guard. Miguel’s face hardened as he tried to maintain that cold façade, but even that quickly fell apart. He couldn’t stay mad at his big, stupid variant anymore, not now.

‘… Yeah, I’m jealous’ he murmured.

‘But, why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I’m aware we had our troubles, yes. But I don’t understand why you would still be envious of me now.’

Miguel scoffed a little, which only urged Mig to get closer. He bent his front legs to peer at Miguel with earnest eyes.

‘Is it still mi arañita? Do you—’

‘No! Not—’ Miguel paused and instinctively raised his hand. ‘Sorry, that sounds defensive. Ah.’

He ran that same hand down his face with a sigh. ‘It’s not. At least not… I mean I’m not, envious of your relationship to them, but… Perhaps, maybe I am envious that you have someone.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘It all, just… works for you. It works out for you’ Miguel grumbled, his hand slowly sliding back down to his side. ‘And I don’t know why.’

‘That seems an unfair assessment’ Mig replied quietly. ‘You are, implying that my life has somehow been notably easier than yours.’

Miguel opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it.

‘I used to think you were the better of us all’ Mig said when Miguel failed to speak for himself. ‘You were the most human. The most adjusted. You had friends, co-workers, your… your, Dana was still alive, even if now gone.’

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel grumbled reluctantly. He couldn’t look Mig in the eye as he said it, but he managed to force it out. ‘I am. I didn’t—mean to imply that.’

‘It’s okay’ Mig purred. ‘In that mandatory therapy you made us go to, I… Came to understand a lot about my perception of you. You were everything that I wasn’t. A hybrid who passed for human, surrounded by people. And I hated you for it, but, I didn’t hate you—’

‘Well, you did. You hated me. For, justified reasons, I will add.’

Mig purred a mild chuckle in response. ‘Yes, I hated you after you tried to interfere. But I know why you did, perhaps better than anybody else. I liked rubbing it in your face, that I had achieved something unique and beautiful, because I put all of my misgivings onto you.’

In almost near synchronicity their smiles faded.

‘… Yeah’ Miguel murmured back. ‘Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.’

For a few minutes the two were silent. Miguel continued running logistics while Mig watched the screen, keeping track of the numbers as they flew past. For a while Miguel wanted desperately to pretend that he could leave the conversation there, but, that was a fools hope.

After testing a few logistics he paused the screen and gripped his desk for stability. Mig watched him with unblinking focus.

‘I tried to have a family. Even a, tiny little piece of a family, for myself… and I failed’ Miguel murmured. The cold blue light of the screen danced across his expression, filling in the hardened trauma lines in his face. The shadows in his brow and nose were sharpened under that dead light.

‘I failed. There was only one universe where I was happy, and I lost it, because—’

Miguel paused, unable to continue with that line of thought. Mig just purred.

‘Did you never wonder why?’ Miguel said, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded like a child re-calling their nightmare to their parent.

‘Why?’

‘Why we suffer?’ Miguel hissed. ‘Did you never wonder why? Why every O’Hara has to suffer, alone? Why there was only one universe where one of us was happy, and even there he… even he… and I…’

Miguel bit his tongue and went totally still, his eyes wild. Mig allowed him a few more moments of silence before speaking again.

‘… I pondered that thought all the time’ Mig murmured back. He turned to gaze at the screen, seeing the little snippets of video flashing in the corner. He could see you, making your way down the beams, and it made his heart ache.

‘I pondered it before I came here. Why did I have to turn, why did my loved ones have to go, why did I have to be left alone? I’d ponder it every night as I looked at the stars, playing my silk strings, wondering why I didn’t deserve better.’

‘I always said, I created interdimensional travel to try and keep things on the straight and narrow. To, fix everyone’s stupid little mistakes’ Miguel said, more to himself than to Mig. ‘But I don’t think that was true. I don’t think that’s very honest.’

He caught a glimpse of the same video Mig was watching then, and he froze up. He saw that little girl tossing the football around, beaming and smiling at the camera with mud on her face. His little girl.

His expression darkened, and he swiped the video away.

‘I did it to fix my existence. To find somewhere better.’

‘And you did, did you not?’ Mig replied.

Miguel scowled until the red light of his eyes was reflected onto his cheeks like tear stains. ‘… I did something, that’s for sure’ he replied. He ran another hand down his face as he mulled over the choices he’d made, and the choices he was about to make.

‘If this serum works…. We are going against fate by doing this’ Miguel said slowly. ‘We are, testing the very limits of what fate allows.’

‘You talk of fate as if it’s a real thing’ Mig replied. Miguel’s scowl deepened.

‘… What if it is?’

The two men glanced at each other in unison. The two were now barely a few inches apart, with the monitor light perfectly highlighting their differences. Mig’s soft, hopeful eyes against Miguel’s dark, narrowed hopelessness. Red like blood, and red like the sunset, fixed on each other in the silence.

‘There is no such thing as fate’ Mig said directly to Miguel’s face. ‘There is no fate. There is a universal series of likelihoods, that are numerically inescapable. They must exist, in a world with infinite possibilities. In every universe, for us to exist as we are, as hybrids, as monsters, there must be suffering. It’s not fate. It’s just the same, sad event, playing over and over again. But after that event… There are a million choices to make.’

Miguel narrowed his eyes further as Mig spoke. He clenched his fists and let the squeak of leather stretching fill the silence.

‘Then why does it still all go wrong?’ Miguel hissed.

‘Because bad things happen’ Mig replied matter-of-factly.

‘Bullshit. This is more than just- regular bad things. You can tell me what happened to us is just, regular bad!’

‘No. Some people, have it worse, I admit—’

‘Much, worse. Much worse!’

‘Okay. Much worse. Yes. I concede that.’

The two fell into a slightly awkward silence as Miguel tried to soothe his temper. It was his only coping mechanism

‘All I meant, is… Bad things will always happen. But the good still happened too. No matter what happens from here… I will be grateful for the time I had’ Mig said softly.

‘Do you really think, you could lose this, and still be happy?’ Miguel argued back, though his tone had also softened. ‘Really?’

That thought drew Mig to pause. He tapped his little fluffy paws on the floor of the office, as he tried to decide how to respond. In the end, he did what he always did: he spoke the painful truth.

‘No’ he whispered. ‘No. I could never be happy again if I lost them.’

Miguel didn’t reply with words. He just gave his own somber nod of agreement. Despite the nice platitudes, despite wanting to altruistically believe they could be calm and composed enough to accept their fates with grace, both of them knew what loss could do.

In the end, there was only one thing Miguel could think to offer.

‘Okay. Come on, I’ll handle the last of this. I can run the last few tests by myself with Lyla. The Halloween party should be starting in a few hours, just um- just, you go and help them out. They probably got themselves lost. Tonto.’

‘But, Miguel, I want to help—’

‘That’s an order’ Miguel said, sharply cutting off Mig’s retort.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, almost as if they could speak without saying a word. Their eyes were locked.

Part of Mig wanted to say no. He didn’t want to leave his work, he didn’t want to wait. He also, deep, deep down, didn’t necessarily trust Miguel fully yet. What if it was a trick? What if Miguel used this as leverage to sabotage the test? After all, it’s what he’d have done in the past.

But the more he looked at Miguel, the more he doubted those fears. He looked so irritated, the stubborn fool, but he looked so open too. So genuine in his annoyance that he was allowing himself to do this kindness. There was no quiet pride, or any façade of politeness to hide his intentions. He really wanted to do something nice, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, just as you’d done, Mig relented. He bowed his head and agreed to go, but not before giving Miguel an awkward clap on the shoulder.

‘Thank you, amigo.’

Miguel flinched at the new nickname. It caught him so off guard he nearly snorted out loud.

‘You, wh… Shut up! Jesus, you tried to fuck in my office behind my back, don’t start with that. Get out. Go on.’

To save face Miguel quickly snapped and pushed Mig’s hand aside, though there was no genuine fire in his words. Even Mig could pick that up. ‘Very well. I shall see you later, then. Take care’ Mig added, before turning and padding his way out of the office in hot pursuit of wherever you’d gotten off to.

Miguel was left alone, hands clasped to his desk, trying to hide the bemused and confused expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his claws had sunk into the desk.

Amigo…

‘Tonto’ he hissed beneath his breath, and with cheeks now burnt a soft shade of auburn red he returned to his work.

Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #miguel o'hara smut #drider #monster human relationship #monster smut

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onepiecepetalfanfics089 · 10 months ago

Text

Enchanted~..

Chapter 3

Yandere! Strawhats + more x witch Fem! Reader ✨

_______________________________

“Ohh? So you’re hiding something now are you? I guess you don’t want people to see, so just let me see!”

Raising an eyebrow, a smirk now sprawled across your face, the feeling of eyes followed your every movement.

Multiple of them.

But at that moment, you weren’t focused on that. At that moment you were determined. Quickly, you uttered the words of your spell and surprise, surprise. A light forest green beanstalk spring beneath your feet to just meet his hight.

His observation haki wasn’t expecting that now wasn’t it?

For some reason, he didn’t stop you. Shocked expressions were plastered on everyone’s face from just your first step of what you were going to do. Staring into his red pink eyes meeting with yours, his constant muttering and talking (which you tuned out) was the only thing you could really hear now as you then grabbed his scarf abruptly and pulled it down with all your might!

GASP

….

silence…

You stared up at the sight before and then..your eyes softened.

“..seriously..? That’s It?..you had me thinking it was a huge scar or something!”

You laughed, now giving a closed eyes smile. His face was full of utter shock in surprise.

..what?..you weren’t scared..? You thought it was..not ‘that bad..?’

A soft smile rested upon your lips, letting out a soft chuckle, you sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you..that kind of beauty never really scared me anyways..”

…

Beauty..?

Slowly..his eyes watered..

Tears.

That was a natural response in the body but something else was going on..something was wrong.

__________________________________________

The sea was sparkling, the air was fresh, everyone was laughing and chattering, everything just seemed utterly perfect.

It had been about a week or two since you joined the infamous ‘strawhat crew.’ You were absolutely welcomed with open arms. Delicious food was served to you at all times, though sanji had to put tissues in his nose every time he got close to serve you, you honestly didn’t know why though?

Yeah, It had been exactly two weeks since you left that island you’ve been stuck on for years. The one you constantly dreamed on, dreamed of leaving, dreamed of living finally.

But something just..didn’t feel quite right.

You didn’t know how to describe it or how to even begin to describe this feeling, yes you were having the time of your life, making memories with these people you’d never thought you’d make, but something just seemed..

Off.

When you tried to tell Nami and Robin about, they simply just brushed it off, saying you were just home sick.

You could remember sitting in front of the mirror, feeling their hands tangle and brush through your hair while you stared longingly at your reflection.

Brush

Your curls easily ran through brush, and by now it was surely untangled. Yet, they still kept brushing..

The silence in the room was loud, almost deafening. So quiet..yet so peaceful you could call it, taking a deep breath and glancing at the window where you could see the water move, you decided to start a conversation, you needed information since you were now a pirate right?..

“So Nami, what island our we heading to next?..im very curious..I’ve never been anywhere new before..”

You softly spoke, almost a little embarrassed by the truth but you weren’t afraid to admit it. Just that sentence alone had you thinking.

By thinking, you remembered.

The nostalgia..oh the nostalgia..

Would you ever see a place like your original home again? You could almost feel the soft grass on your feet when you would run out and play in the sun. Feel the petals of the soft, beautiful flowers and plants you used for your spells. Hear the birds sing as you would lay in the garden, reading books upon books to cure you curiosity.

“-N..Y/N..!”

You jumped a bit, finally snapping out of your trance and not even noticing the fact that you just spaced out..

“O-Oh? Yeah sorry! Could you repeat that?”

You said, hearing a soft chuckle escape Robins lips as you saw in the reflection of the mirror that Nami had her eyebrow raised. A smooth, tan arm then sprouted from the back of the chair you were sitting in. Slowly, Robin turned your head with her pointer finger to face her, making your eyes look into her sky blue ones. She was truly beautiful..

“We’re heading to Jaya island..we need information on the other place we need to go, Skypia.”

Your ears perked up, did you hear that right?..Skypia?

Ever since you were young, you dreamed about hosting there. So many books you read about this strange world you lived in..ones you’ll never forget..

Although you had no idea what the place looked like, you kind of knew exactly what to expect. The culture and place itself was fascinating.

“Skypia? Really? I’ve only heard about that place in books! And we’ll get to go to another island before that?”

So far, being a pirate was great! You knew they explored the seas and what not, but the fact you could go so many places just perfect for you..for your need to explore..

For your need to be curious..

But, something told you that..your curiosity wouldn’t be the best thing..in fact..it told you it could possibly be your downfall..

There was only one way to find that out right?

A slow sigh escaped your lips. Just what was bugging you? Everything here was great! Yes, the crew could be a bit..overbearing at times..

They wouldn’t leave you alone for a second but hey, maybe they’re just excited for a new crew mate right?..

And you were happy to spend time with all of them! You kind of couldn’t really keep a schedule because there was so many of them..but no matter what you did on the ship it involved them.

For example, reading with Robin was always peaceful..but eventually it would get too quiet..so you would go ask to be with Zoro. You watched him work out sometimes, even joining in if you were THAT bored..but napping with him was always a pleasure..

Playing with luffy, watching Nami do her work with naps, talk with Chopper while he was in his office and so on so forth..but you just now noticed, they never really gave you time to yourself..

Hmm..

You decided to simply tell the one you were hanging out with you were busy, what’s the worse that could happen right?

…

It was now lunch time, everyone was eating peacefully now, Sanji flirting with you, Nami and Robin..usual..Zoro taking close glances at you every five minutes..the usual?..Usopp feeling the need to get your attention every second..the usual..

The only remotely wholesome behavior was Chopper’s really, getting every chance he could get to sit on your lap or get some of your sweet, sweet attention..cutely though of course.

This was definitely normal behavior..for them. In all the books you read however, this wasn’t exactly right though..but like Robin said, “books aren’t always realistic..”

Cutting a small piece of your food, you bit it off from your fork casually, chewing before speaking.

“So, once we get to Jaya island..where exactly are we going to get the information?..”

You asked, looking around at the table for your answer. Luffy, with his cheery grin answered in an excited tone, tearing a piece of meat off the bone.

“Me, Zoro and Nami are gonna try to go around and see what information we can find!”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but glance up at him from under your eyelashes. This boy..

This pure boy with the big grin, so excited about everything, it’s like he could do no wrong or be mad about anything!

Right?…

“Ah yeah! Nami told me about that earlier..so since it’s the first island I’ve been on besides home….”

When you mentioned the word ‘home’ you saw the crew stiffen up..even Sanjis eyes widened before he continued to pour some tea into Nami’s cup..

Strange.

“I’m gonna go solo and explore! I’m sure it’ll be exciting don’t cha’ guys think?”

You said with a light hearted laugh, sipping your cup of tea. They all went silent for a while, staring at you intently or something else. Usopp and Sanji especially looked rather..zoned out.

Blinking and setting your cup down back on the table, you looked around curiously. Why in earth were they so..quiet?..this was very odd.

Nami seemed the first one to snap out of it.

“Uhm well…although we know that’ll be fun for you..”

“It’s a stupid idea. You might get hurt.”

Zoro butted in, his tone blunt as he now locked his gaze on you. Raising an eyebrow you waited for someone else to back you up on this yet..

No one did.

Sighing softly, you had gotten rather..tired of their protectiveness in the past few months..but you would never say that out loud however. Something deep down told you not to.

“Well, that is very sweet that you guys..care so much..I’ll be fine! You know I can fight, it’s not like town is known for how dangerous it is or anything..”

Squinting his eyes, Zoro looked as if he was about to say more, but Robin soon chimed In with her smooth voice.

“She’s right you know? Plus, we could get very useful information if there were more of us in different places..”

A smile was brought to your lips, thanks Robin!

It soon faltered a bit once you saw her give everyone a look. A look you couldn’t really..describe. Like a message, a code someone could decipher.

Luffy let put a low grumble, trying to stare that ‘it want safe and, I’ll miss her!’ But of course that didn’t work.

Finally, you would get SOME peace right?

The sound of your shoes clicking on the pavement as you walked was oddly soothing. Even though you knew this place wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the world..you were fascinated.

The sounds, the smells the people. Everything you could get your eyes on interested you. Of course you had to take up from Nami and go on a shopping spree, new clothes were just too hard to resist! You knew they would freak once they saw them!

Since the day was sunny, your curly hair was out up into a ponytail to match the heat, humming calmly along with the tube you had in your head.

A yawn slowly escaped you as you felt your eyes flutter softly.

“Hmm..who knew shopping and exploring all day could get me this tired out....I wonder..”

You said, feeling your eyes wonder across the street to grassy clearing. The crew wouldn’t mind if you stayed for just a little longer right?..a girl did need a nap!

Walking into the meadow of flowers, you smiled fondly, picking one up and twirling it in between your fingers. It was daisy, an English daisy. The most common but still beautiful. You tried to find beauty in almost everything..everything or anyone.

Gently setting the bags and your flower down, you plucked a handful of the flowers and uttered the words of your spell..

Shroop~!

A giant, yet lovely flower surrounded you. Enclosing on you and your bags with a little pollen bed for you to rest on. Slowly stretching you felt yourself slowly smile..finally feeling the most peace you could feel at last..

………………………………………………………………………….

A yawn slowly escaped you..what time was it?..waving your hand in an almost dismissive manner around, the flower slowly sprouted, its petals revealing the outside world at last.

Blinking a few times to get adjusted, you finally started to realize..

It was..

EVENING?!

Sundown and you’d still hadn’t come back to the ship!

Oh good lord what were they going to say now??

Even though you’d hadn’t been on the ship that long you just knew deep down..

You were screwed.

Quickly grabbing all of your stuff, you ran out of the meadow to the ship. While you were running however, you passed a man.

Not just any man though..

His aura..his vibe, felt different..

You looked at him, eyes slightly squinted once you were able to spot him clearly.Your eyes locked.

He was tan, big lips and beard with a big bottle of sake you assumed. A red ball necklace around his neck. He smiled. Wide too, revealing his missing and crooked teeth as you caught a glance of the golden ring on his finger.

You shivered..

Something about him didn’t seem quite right..like..

You were going to see him again soon..

Or were you just talking crazy?..

Lifting up the huge bottle, he took a long sip, the liquid slowly dripping down his chin and down to his neck as he wiped it off.

Still keeping that sane grin, a loud laugh escaped him. Remembering your face clearly as watched the people on the street pass by.

“Well,nice to meet ya too missy! I feel like I’ll be seein’ ya soon too..”

…

Did you get to the ship sooner than you expected? Yes. But did you still get very much scolded? Of course.

And they seemed very serious..almost possessive..

Just brush it off Y/N..

Brush it off..

These people were good.

Just something about the way Zoro immediately pulled you into his arms, forcing your head to meet his chest so you could feel his racing heartbeat while the others continued to chatter and scold endlessly at you for taking too long no matter how hard you tried to explain..

Yeah, they definitely weren’t leaving you by yourself..

Anytime soon.

Finally, once you got to the woman’s quarters, you couldn’t stop thinking about the eventful day you had..

Surprisingly, Nami and Robin met you do your night routine by yourself..

If you didn’t know any better, you’d suspect that the whole crew were talking about something while you were gone..

Stop it Y/N! This is crazy talk!

You thought yourself, letting out a soft groan, staring at the ceiling.

But it doesn’t hurt to check..right?..

There was a spell you knew..a powerful one that showed your future or fate..yet, it did great damage to your energy sometimes..but you had to know..you had to know if..this behavior was normal.

Sitting down in a circle full of cards you summoned, turned face down. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath..

“Secrets, secrets show yourself..show my fate,show my true self..for better or for worse I’ll know my fate..I’ll not have to alternate!”

Smoke soon filled the room, all of the cards soon floated and submerged into your head out hand. Taking a deep breath, everything went back to normal. Slowly fluttering your eyes open, you felt your shaky hands slowly start to turn the card over..

Would this finally be an answer?..

“Y/N! Come down to hang with us! We’re all gonna play a drinking game!!”

Luffy called out, causing you to blink.

Why at this time!?..

Glancing over at the card in your hand..you sighed softly, closing your eyes for a split second before gently setting it down on the floor.

Maybe it was best to not read it until later..maybe it was best to try to have some fun right now..the night was young wasn’t it?..

Getting up from the floor, you yelled down a ‘coming!’ Before hurrying down to the lower deck.

Little did you know that underneath that card..was a picture of a rose..a glittering red rose being reached out by many,many hands. Possessive hands, needy hands.

Though, that couldn’t mean anything serious..

Right?..

End of chapter 3~..

———————————————————————

A/N:HIIII MY LOVES~! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And yes, I did publish it late and yes it was TECHNICALLY on a Sunday 😭 but this chapter was basically getting to know Y/N, I promise other characters like all the strawhats, and more (wink, wink) will be shown more as much as their characters! I hope this is king enough honestly 😭 but I really enjoyed writing this and I must say, I’m so glad to be back! For now I will be working on my requests to try to get them back open again and since I have A LOT in waiting, then I will be getting back to this, which will be shortly so dont worry! 🌸💕

And don’t think I forgot to tag you @theg0ddesspersephone 🍀!

Until next time my pretty petals!!~

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siolixz · 3 months ago

Text

~ Veils of Crimson ~

Chapter 2

Pairings: oz cobb x reader (Carmine Falcone's daughter)

Reader is the daughter of Carmine Falcone and upon her late father's demise, she is obligated to return home after 5 years to face her past. I edited some things, like Sofia being in Arkham only 5 years instead of 10. Hopefully y'all like it, again no smut, remember, good things come to those who wait (not for too long bcs im obsessed with writing about this man ughbhghgy)

Again, I took my inspo from Driving Miss Falcone by (https://www.tumblr.com/genevievedarcygranger here on tumblr), check out the story if you can.

Enjoy, give feeback if u want xoxo.

Warnings: mature language, smut (not in this chapter sorry AGAIN), general horniness.

“I wanted to tell you that tomorrow night I will be unavailable from 4 PM to 7 PM; your sister has requested me.”

Sofia was a very kind person; that much you knew. Your sister rarely did anything to hurt you or anyone else for that matter. So why on earth would she take Oz away for a few hours? Was she planning on telling him about your feelings? She wouldn’t. Maybe your smartass remarks finally caught up to her, maybe she wanted to teach you a lesson.

No, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Oz is a trustworthy guy, someone your dad depends on to take care of one of his most special treasures: you.

“Why?” you asked. You didn’t mean to make it sound so sharp; you weren’t mad, really, just curious.

“I’m sorry, but she said I couldn’t tell anyone.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead but glanced at you in the rearview mirror; his gaze was soft.

“Okay, if that’s what she said, it seems I’ll have to ask her.” You hated things not going your way, especially if Oz was hiding things from you. You two were supposed to be close, even if you were acting like a spoiled brat right now. If any other member of the staff had acted like this with you- it would have been a different story.

The next day, from morning until late evening, you tried to shake the uneasy feeling that your sister was gone to do something she was not supposed to. Either way, it was something very important. When you asked her, she quickly said it was none of your business and that you shouldn’t worry; she would get your driver back as soon as possible.

Something was definitely up. She took Oz with her when she had two other drivers. Maybe it was because Oz was intimidating; that huge scar on his face couldn’t have appeared there because he was a nice guy, and he wasn’t going to hesitate if push came to shove.

Tomorrow was your dad’s birthday party, and you had the most beautiful dress prepared: a gorgeous, short, white dress paired with the most stunning custom-made Louboutin heels, also white—a gift from your dad on your 18th birthday.

You knew tomorrow was going to be full of remarks like, “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in SUCH a long time!” “I cradled you when you were just a widdle baby!” “How beautiful you have become!” Being the center of attention wasn’t so bad now; I mean, you were the baby of the family, and everyone doted on you.

The Falcone mansion was a very, very big house, full of rooms and bathrooms, and it was sometimes hard to figure out who came and went. As you rested on your family sofa in the living room, waiting to be welcomed in by your father in his office, you heard those familiar footsteps you knew so well.

It was hard not to know who he was; that leg of his became harder to move late in the evening. You discovered this by literally dragging him with you into every shop that piqued your curiosity. From early afternoon until late evening, you were on the “prowl,” as your sister liked to say at family dinners—from meeting the daughter of X and Y in I-don’t-know-what shop to trying on a multitude of dresses, shoes, and accessories. He never told you, but you were sure it hurt him as well; still, Oz never showed any signs of discomfort or pain. He was always ready with a smile or a funny remark.

When you saw him, he had his jacket removed, and you noticed the way his belly pushed against his dress shirt. A few buttons were undone at the upper part of his torso, giving you a full look at the hair there. His tie was gone as well. You knew his shift was done; clearly, Sofia had dismissed him.

You immediately jumped off the sofa and went to say hi to him. He was clearly surprised to see you, especially in your pajamas. You also forgot about the attitude you were supposed to have. What was all that about anyway?

“Hi Oz, what are you doing here?”

He said he wanted to talk to your dad. What was up with all this secrecy? Did they think you were too stupid or naive to have a say or an opinion? When you asked what it was about, he said it was just some business stuff, nothing too important. You two could talk outside if you wanted; he wasn’t allowed inside the house after all.

“Okay, whatever.” It was hard not to get annoyed at both of them. You hadn’t even seen or talked to your sister. Did she even come home?

He must have been in there for about thirty minutes, but finally, he came out. Outside, he lit a cigarette and asked if you were cold, he could get you his jacket-forever the gentleman. You said no, the last thing you wanted to do was push him like that. You asked again about your sister and he didn’t want to tell you, again, saying it wasn’t right to your sister. Ok, now you really had to find out and with your heart beating a thousand beats per minute, you got even closer to him. The smell of his cologne, the one he always wore, left a trail wherever he went—a sort of flamboyance he allowed himself- the only one he was allowed in the chains of his current position. The smell of the cigarette mixed with it wasn’t the most pleasant, but whatever; it smelled like him.

“Please, Oz, I just want to know. Everyone always keeps me in the dark. You’re my friend—well, I consider you my friend—just tell me. Don’t be like the rest of them because you aren’t.” You looked at him with the most pained expression you could muster at that hour, your voice breaking-low enough to be a whisper

“Doll, I—listen—” he started.

“Please, Oz, you're my driver, and you’re supposed to be by my side. I was kind to you; I always told you everything. I made sure my dad gave you all those bonuses for walking around with me.” You paused. “Please?” He looked at you like you were in hospice before saying:

“Okay, Jesus, um, your sister went to a journalist, that lady who came after her when you were off sulking in the car. She met up with her today—”

“What?” you interjected.

He inhaled deeply before continuing, “Something about your dad and some hookers at the club. Apparently, they died or something. Your sister was interested in whatever that woman had to say, nothing more.”

“Oh—”

“Oh, exactly. Now don’t go telling your brother or something—”

“Dad has hookers at the club?”

He looked at you, dumbfounded. “Y-yeah, I guess. Anyway, it is nothing you should concern yourself with, ya know?” You didn’t respond, lost in thought. How could she have been so stupid?

“Hey, hey—” he lowered his head to catch your big eyes, so full of things to say, a million thoughts running behind them. “Look at me. It’s going to be okay. Where do you want to go tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” you said.

“C’mon, you gotta think about something. Until your dad’s birthday in the evening, we gotta go somewhere. There’s this new restaurant that opened up; I heard only good things about it—” How could she have been so careless? “Something with C—ugh, I can’t remember right now.”

“Okay, tomorrow we go. You have a nice night, Oz,” you said. “Take care of yourself.”

“Alright, you too. Sleep tight,” he said, a bit surprised at your quick dismissal of him. You knew that, but you had to think.

This was huge, like actually huge. If your dad found ou—Why was Oz visiting your dad?

The birthday party was the same as every year: all the family got together to have material for gossip later on in the day and hate each other just as much as they did when they were away. You never went with Oz to that restaurant because, frankly speaking, you were scared shitless. Your dad loved you and your siblings you knew that, in his own way, and he would never endanger any of you.

When your dad called Sofia into his office and she got all excited to give him his birthday present, you never would have thought in a million years that the night would end with her being picked up by the police. Alberto called you in a frenzy that night, his voice shaking with anger. You knew—your dad let this happen. This arrest was made on his grounds, on his territory—why? How?

When you visited your sweet sister, everyone still believed she was going to go home. This was just Dad’s way of scaring her, maybe to teach her a lesson—the most important one he had been repeating all your lives: DO NOT SPEAK TO THE PRESS.

Her lawyer was very, very expensive, and yet not even she could save her. You thought she was going to jail. No, she was going to Arkham for six months until she would be judged. Based on the false accusations that she hanged those sex workers at your dad’s club. What? Now that was actual insanity. She started yelling that Dad set her up, that he killed all those women—he killed their mom too. This was a lot to process. Your heart was beating out of your chest seeing the person who you thought was the most calm and collected person freak out, and rightfully so, because police officers took her away in like five minutes.

It all happened too fast, way too fast for this to be okay.

What sort of judge allows this to happen?

You knew it was his fault. He did this. Upon arriving back home, you were a wreck. How could you look your dad in the eye again?

One thing you knew for sure: you never wanted to see Oz again.

And your wish came true! Because your darling sweet daddy sent you far, far away, abroad, because he didn’t want to deal with you either, you presumed. He sent you to France, where a large part of your mom’s family lived.

You never learned French, but now was apparently the time. Your aunt and uncle lived quite well over there and even if they didn’t really keep in touch with you over the years, they accepted you with open arms. They had a large villa in the south, a pool outside, the beach was one hour away, two dogs that would run around and make your days better.

But how could your days be good when your sister was in a looney bin, thrown in there like a rag, used and discarded? Your days were spent calling Alberto, asking about Sofia. You made sure he told her you loved her, that you asked about her, and that you two were going to get her out of there. Every year, Al told you she started losing herself more and more each day.

Oz, on the other hand, apparently thought he was a big man now; he ran the Iceberg Lounge, a funny name association, given that he hated being called “Penguin.” You knew he asked about you too, but Alberto said he told him to fuck off every time.

You weren’t allowed to go back home, at least that’s what you understood from your dad. He said you and your sister both lost yourselves a bit, maybe the money and the fame got to your head and that it was best you stayed there; the weather would do you wonders.

On the bright side, it had been five long years, and Alberto said he was 100% sure he was going to get Sofia out of that shithole, finally.

And when you thought that things were finally looking up for you, everything was going to be okay after such a long time of everything being shit—your dad died.

Your ears started ringing, like a train was passing in your head, when Alberto yelled out that he was gone over the phone. Your knees felt weak, like someone had transformed them into play-doh. I need to get home now.

Your dad wasn’t even cold in the grave when Alberto went AWOL—gone, no word from him since yesterday evening. Both you and Sofia were worried. Where was he?

You knew Oz was called to the house that day after your brother stopped responding to your texts. You could hear that loud voice of his, muffled but still loud enough to hear everything they said.

You hadn’t been here for quite some time—five years. Still, nothing changed. Sofia’s uncle Johnny and Milos filled your brother’s spot while he was gone; however, when he comes back-he’s going to be the boss, that's for sure.

Women weren’t allowed inside when the men were planning and talking business, but you weren’t inside. Plus, it wasn’t your fault Oz had a voice loud enough to hear from down the hall. Oz. Oz’s voice. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he spoke. This stupid attraction—you hoped in the years that passed it would go away, but apparently, it had not. In fact, it seemed to have grown alongside you. Maybe now he could have more courage; maybe this newly acquired upgrade made him the man you only saw glimpses of. You were a grown woman; surely now he had no reservations about you. Surely.

You didn't even hear your sister walk by with her bodyguards near your spot, attached to the door, too busy in your daydream.

“Am I interrupting you?” she asked, making you jump and curse under your breath. Her manner of speaking changed; so did her walk, her style, and her hair. But you knew the love you guys had for one another hadn’t changed.

“Fuck, Sofia, why are you sneaking up on me like that?” you whispered.

“Can you please move? I want to go inside,” she said, smiling, but the smile never reached her eyes. You moved, and the doors were opened.

“—in fact, it’s big. It has the potential to revolutionize the drug business,” you heard from inside. Huh? Is he referring to Al's plan?How does he know what Alberto wanted to do? You didn’t even know the whole story—of course you didn’t.

You decided to leave. You didn’t want Oz to see you, and you didn’t want to see him either. What was wrong with you?

On your way out, passing the exit, you saw this gorgeous purple car. Now there was only ONE man you knew who could possess something as flashy and in-your-face as a purple fucking car.

It wasn’t Milos, by the way. Then you heard his footsteps, and they were coming-fast, like really fucking fast.

Shit, okay, I’m leaving—go up the stairs now. Before you could hide yourself in one of the upper rooms, you heard Sofia yell out your name.

“Oz, you remember my little sister, right? She had such a fondness for you and you of her, from what I remember. You two haven’t seen each other for such a long time.” Okay, you couldn’t hide, so just put on a brave face and go say hi. “Hi, Oz, you ruined my life, but don’t worry, I would still ride you.” You wished you were back in Europe.

Turning the corner was the easy part; looking at him was the hard part. He looked different, yes—but still the same. His clothing had definitely changed; his black suit was now replaced with a purple one, like the car. Jesus. While you descended the staircase in your short flowery dress, it felt like your date was waiting for you downstairs to take you to prom. Those seven seconds you spent getting down the staircase felt like seven hours. Please, ground, swallow me whole now.

Once you got down and saw him again for the first time in five years, up close, he looked somehow more handsome. His scar was more pronounced, yes, but it added to his allure. Oh God, he’s smiling. Not only did he have a purple car and a purple suit, but this man had golden teeth as well. On a lighter note, he smelled like cologne, cigarettes, and aftershave—just like you remembered him smelling. Oh, that brings you back.

“Hi, Oz,” you said, smiling ear to ear.

He looked you up and down, still smiling. “Wow, you’re just as gorgeous as I remember.”

#oz cobb x reader #the penguin x reader #oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin hbo #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobblepot #oswald cobb

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1for5 · 10 months ago

Text

yes im changing

paige bueckers x reader

(paige x uconn psychology student!reader)

synopsis: with y/n being in a new environment, still facing rejection, how can she bounce back?

masterlist

chapter 5

the previous week was hell for y/n. she got to finish interviewing all the members part of the men’s and women’s basketball team. she plans on having study sessions with the team members starting next week. aubrey has been noticing dark circle’s under y/n’s eyes, and she’s growing concered.

it was a saturday night, and aubrey was going out to hang with the team, when she went out of here room, she saw y/n locked in with her research. she saw a glimpse of the introduction.

university of connecticut, in short uconn, is known for many achievements in their curriculars, and especially in basketball. according to previous research, many have grown fond of basketball due to university of connecticut, with many championship titles being brought to their home at storrs.

basketball in uconn is more popular than ever. with this, the researcher aims to see the difference of the resilience of these student athletes from the basketball teams of uconn. according to..

“girl thats dope, but you have been reviewing this introduction for the longest time. you need a break, your eyebags are telling you to do so.” aubrey said. “i just want a good grade.. so im eligible to transfer to stanford.” y/n replies nonchalantly.

“that is true, but you need to loosen up for now y/n. you have done a lot. im hanging out with the team today, you should really come so i wouldn’t have to worry about my teammate finishing cans of red bull. thats bad for you!” aubrey proposes. “i dont think i can..” y/n declines.

“im not taking no for an answer, so come into your room and put nice clothes on. i can wait for you” aubrey drags y/n out of her chair and brings her to the girl’s room.

“fine”

after 30 minutes, the roommates finally arrived to the destination: a steakhouse. it’s tradition for the team to eat at their favorite steakhouse at every start of the school year. the team may bring their friends and significant others to this gathering, but they all keep in mind to keep this gathering not too big and still quite intimate.

“hi y/n!!!” the team greets her, aubrey signaling her to sit beside nika and her. nika turned to y/n, and asked more personal questions about her life. they only got to talk during the interviews, and nika was genuinely willing to be friends with y/n.

they got more comfortable with each other, they found out they both liked rock climbing, building legos, and had mystery movies as their comfort movies.

while talking, one member of the team, kk, got curious. “so.. what’s the deal between aubrey and y/n? we didn’t know that y/n would be here, but don’t worry boo we’re all glad you’re here” kk asked.

everyone except for one

“oh nooo. y/n and i arent like that. yeah we’re roommates and we got close to each other but she’s not my type, don’t even know if she’s for the girls! i brought her here since she’s been too deep into her research. she needs to eez down” aubrey declined the allegation, y/n agreeing to her.

“only answer this if your comfortable with it but.. are you for the girls?” kk’s curiousity got stronger. “oh no its fine kk! yeah i am gay, just dont have a label. but i have never had a girlfriend before” y/n answered with a smile.

“OOOOH!” kk and the others exclaimed. “so what are you looking for in a partner? we could hook you up!” ice asked.

“i want my personal athletic or active, i dont know, they just have that aura. i also want my person to be quite smart.. i dont know guys its just attractive to me! and i hope theyre love language is words of affirmation. im a sucker for that” y/n shamefully answers.

“you know y/n, maybe your just talking about me” kk teased. “NOOOO”s and “EEEWWW”s were said after that, laughter all around.

after a wonderful night and dinner, it was time to head to an open basketball court. the uconn team loves to hoop after a good night out. its their only time to really have fun with their sport, no rules or anything. the steakhouse was just walking distance to the court, hence the team leaving their cars first at the parking area.

as they go into the court, y/n was smiling with the rest of the team, until she sees paige. paige gave her an eye roll, which made y/n feel quite annoyed and uncomfortable.

the rest of the team wanted to see y/n play, so she did, she was against paige, qadence, nika, and ice. y/n was having fun, but whenever she makes in contact with the ball and paige was beside her, paige kept on nudging her and slightly hitting her. paige was rough, which was not usual for her especially when they were just playing for fun.

the others felt paige��s competitiveness, and it didn’t feel right. kk calmed paige down. “paige whats your problem? she doesn’t play. that was foul” kk asked. paige just scoffed and ignored kk. kk was for sure that paige was hiding something, and she would have to ask next time when paige is more open to talk about it.

the team decided to call it a day. while they were walking back to the parking area, paige was dribbling a basketball, and started to throw it up— which led to another “accident.”

the ball goes forward and hits y/n again, but this time it was on her shoulder. y/n looked back to see who threw the ball, only to see that it was the blonde once again.

“what the fuck is your problem?”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader

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nova-is-a-writer-now · 5 months ago

Text

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n , @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan @loveisacowboy @sageluvsjoel

#dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel x reader #tlou joel #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #hidden embers

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denv2 · 4 months ago

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Felix and the Cats Around Him

Chapter 181~ I reread the part with Felix for the first time in a long time, and there were so many elements that I hadn't noticed before because of my relative lack of knowledge. It's so good... I like it👍

Below are my thoughts as I went through the chapters + drew pictures + IM chapter 181~ spoiler warning! (scroll through carefully lol)

When I first read IM, I knew Felix, but I didn't love him as much as I do now, so I hadn't seen the official cartoon anime (and I had seen all the Oswald anime by then, lol I love all the original characters, so if I like them, I'll watch all the original media and buy the game).

So when I read the Felix part during the hallucination created by the labyrinth in chapter 181, I actually... at that time... I just read it while just following the story, so I didn't remember much about it, and later, after I finished the fic and realized that my favorite character was Felix, I was thinking that I should read the part about Felix's past properly again later, and then I recently re-read that part...

So... so good.... I love the Felix storyline..... It's so interesting... I knew IM Alex was a badass (I really liked the Evil Author Day 2023 novella, so I read that a lot... I know it's a side novella, but I thought it had a great plot and the situation surrounding Bendy was interesting and I loved the Alex in it...) but I had forgotten all about the IM version of Kitty... WHAT?! Felix and EX relationship?!! What a crazy... Delicious (sorry for my taste buds) And it was Alex that caused them to break up? What the hell kind of crazy thing did Alex do that made Kitty feel guilty and Felix run away... Crazy! So delicious (sorry again)

I drew the original cartoon Felix and Kitty a while ago, and I feel weird because I drew them in an EX state in IM, and I feel a little sorry for them, but it's a worldview, right? The relationship between these two is so delicious... lol ahhhhh (yeah I love this kind of relationship too)

I also like villainous characters, so I'm very curious about Alex. Actually, he may not appear more, but after reading the above book... Of course, it may not have anything to do with the main story! To be honest, there's still a lot of information about the cult that hasn't been revealed, so I'm really curious to see what happens next.

Moving on to Felix... Felix was a ZANY superstar, but after Alex, he started to fall apart. Eventually, due to some sort of incident, Felix decided to give up on ZANY and left town. It's such an interesting backstory... But when I think about the early Felix, traveling the world after he left, I realize that he's so... Even better.

Giving up being zany and living with the things he was born with, like resilience and memory. I think he went through a lot of hardships... losing his wealth. He was really lost and confused, and then he met Professor Wilson, and he opened his eyes to archaeology, and he went to college, and he started studying, and he started doing archaeology, and he started adventuring... and that's how he became the skilled professional adventurer that he is today, and that's why I like him even more...

In fact, to be honest, the scene where he sees the last of Professor Wilson and he's so angry and fighting the cupbros, that was the first time I read that scene in the first book, I was surprised and bewildered because it was the first time I'd ever seen him this angry, and I was like, "Oh my god. Is this actually... Is this a fake Felix?" I was confused and then I was like, "What's wrong with Felix? He's fighting too much, that's too much!" But when I read it for the second time... I could relate to it now.... and I found the situation so interesting and I liked it... I liked Felix getting angry (this is just my selfishness... sorry to the cupbros) so much that I read it while screaming in my head. It's stimulating.

Wow...I talked a lot...I'm glad I reread it after a long time because there are so many elements I didn't notice back then. I should catch up and read it from the beginning, but you know, there are so many chapters...lol Anyway... I love Felix. I like cats and bunnies.... Of course, I also like the other friends!

I think the translator put too many and's in there... please understand the meaning and move on!

#quest felix #felix the cat #alex the cat #kitty kat #sheba beboporeba #babitim #the inky mystery #inky mystery #bendy and boris in the inky mystery #babtqftim

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nathanbatemanfucker · 1 year ago

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In Plain Sight, Ch 2: A Hoard of Cupids

summary: nathan’s much more insightful about you than he used to be. it’s making you uneasy…and curious.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nathan trying to be nice but he’s so abrasive lol, pining, mentions of caretaking/sick family members, mentions of emotionally abusive parents, masturbation (m), sub!nathan if you squint

wc: 2,745

AN: back at it with part twoooo. thank you all for the kind words and support on this fic, i didn’t expect it to get the response it did but i’m really excited to give y’all the rest. fair warning that these chapters seem to be getting longer as i write on. happy reading!

in plain sight masterlist | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan gives you space— at first. When you return the next day at 7 a.m. sharp he’s nowhere to be found. Not in the living room or in the kitchen, not on his patio boxing. You assume he’s in his room, probably toying with one of his bots in a distasteful manner. The idea makes you shudder. But is it not easier to come to work with every task he could want you to do placed on his desk, no fuss?

You don’t like Nathan Bateman. He’s a pompous asshole, a know it all, a man who thinks only about his own desires. When he apologized— or rather attempted to— yesterday you thought that maybe you slipped and fallen down the stairs on your way out. By his standards, it was a top tier apology. You’d never once heard him apologize to anyone. On your drive home you had wondered if he had ever apologized in his life. The thought made you giggle, and then you’d turned up the music and forgotten about him until right now.

Sat at your desk, an ungodly stack of things to do. There’s a note sat on top. It’s simple and straightforward, lacking emotion but somehow still has your stomach flipping. It reads:

In meetings all day— let me know if you need anything. Go home early today.

Mr. Bateman

P.S. I’ll spruce up my apologizing skills.

You regard the note cautiously, raising your brow at it before you let yourself laugh a little. Was this a joke or had Nathan Bateman taken some criticism to heart (which is rumored to not exist). You fold the note up, and for some reason slip it into your bag.

The last thing that’s on your mind is that Nathan’s watching you. He sits in the dark at his monitors, leaning in closely. His eyes trace your figure on the screens intensely, watching as you read and read and read. He expects no reaction from you beside maybe throwing it in the trash. But then you laugh, and he watches you store it for safekeeping. A piece of him will go home with you. Nathan never thought he’d be jealous of a piece of paper, not when he seems to have the entire world at his fingertips.

—

He returns to his normal behavior after a week— partially because he thinks you settled in. And partially because…well he begrudgingly can admit to himself, in the comfort of his own mind, that he misses you. When you get to work the next Monday he’s sat on an observation table, examining what looks like a deconstructed robot brain.

You aren’t even able to open your mouth and say good morning before he’s talking to you.

“Are you sleeping okay?” He asks, his eyes appraising you intensely.

You stop in your tracks, regarding him as always, your expression pieced into that calm expression. So you’re back to normal, none of that fire. He expected it but that doesn’t keep him from feeling disappointed.

“Sir?”

“You look really fucking tired. Exhausted,” He tacts on for good measure.

Your spine goes completely rigid, your grip on your bag tightening. You are tired. So very tired. You work shitty hours for incredible money and then go home to take care of your younger sisters and mother. Dealing with Nathan is for them. For your sisters’ schooling, so they won’t feel left out when the other kids have the newest gadget or shoes. For your mother’s ever piling medical bills. It’s important that you don’t jeopardize something so precious.

“Is it affecting my work? Have I done something wrong?” You ask him softly.

“No— that’s not why I’m—“ He stutters before closing his mouth and starting anew. You’ve never seen him like this. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was flustered. But knowing Nathan, he’s just never asked a single employee he’s ever had if they’re alright. “I’m your boss, I worry about your well being. That’s what good bosses do.”

“Are you sure?” You ask evenly, eyes still trained on him.

“Am I—“ He stops, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before he bites away his smile. “Are you fucking with me?”

If he was looking at you so intentionally he would miss the way your mouth twitches. “I’m fine, Mr. Bateman. I have a lot of responsibilities, not only here but out there as well.”

“Out there?”

“The real world. Thank you for the concern, sir.”

For the second time, you’ve rendered Nathan speechless. That night he lays in bed thinking of you, like many nights prior. He turns your words over in his head time and time again. The real world. Do you think he doesn’t know what it’s like out there? He wonders how much research you’d done for the job. Nathan used his brain to get here, climbing and climbing. He hadn’t been born into this but his personality lent itself to such a conclusion. Nathan knows what his real world used to look like, though one day he hopes that any of his contraptions can help him forget. He wonders what your real world looks like.

There’s no ring on your finger, but you could have a partner. Kids? Another job? He pays you well enough for that to not be necessary. Maybe you volunteer at a puppy shelter. He could picture it. You in something other than your stuffy work clothes, a smile on your face as you drown in puppy breath and slobber.

He groans, rolling over in bed to plant his face deeply in the pillow. Maybe he can smother himself out of this. Thinking about puppies? He might as well be one, he’s practically lovesick if you have him thinking like this. When would he get used to feeling this way? His usual cynical thoughts feel like they’re being pillaged by a hoard of cupids.

He doesn’t even know if you feel the same. Being better for you is one thing, but what if there’s no payoff? What if he changes for you and you leave him high and dry? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He feels the back of his neck sweating and sits up.

Nathan’s been down this road before, it’s brought him his fortune and an insane work ethic. It’s all brought him sorrow he’ll never be able to escape. Being with his parents feels like a fever dream sometimes and other times he feels 6 again, like he’s drowning in their expectations and insults, trying to measure up. He’d given up eventually, once he realized that they would never love him the way parents should. Why try to do anything anyone wanted but himself when they could still treat him poorly for it?

He’s the way he is from his own indoctrination. He doesn’t know where he would be if he hadn’t convinced himself that he was the only person that truly matters.

But, now there’s you. You, who looks so soft, you that scratches an itch he didn’t even realize he had. You, that he wants to goad and prod and poke until you unleash all of yourself on him. He closes his eyes and lays back, envisioning you right here with him. He feels insane, his heart— his mind, his dick— are taking him through a whirlwind of emotions right now.

He palms himself through his boxers, eyes squeezing shut tighter than before as he tries to narrate. He pictures you in one of his white shirts, it’s fabric nearly see-through with the way it clings to your breasts. He grasps his length through his boxers letting out a heaving sigh. Fuck he wishes this was you.

If there’s anything that Nathan knows how to do its not only being smartest but the most imaginative. He’s been daydreaming for as long as he can remember. Universes with better outcomes— having worth, or loving parents or anyone for that matter. Anyone to be on his side. He imagined codes and synthetic body parts that live and breathe in front of him. He can surely imagine you, breathy and horny in his bed, jerking him off. He doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, or inappropriate. He wants you, and maybe this is the only way he can have you. He slides his boxers down, finally done teasing himself. Licking his palm, he grabs his cock, starts stroking and succumbs to the thought of you.

Another moan bubbles out of his throat. He can see your nipples through his shirt when you straddle him like this. Your thighs are soft against his own and he would reach for your free hand, thread his fingers through your own. Your hands are smaller than his, smooth and supple. And god, you’re stroking him just the way he likes it, the soft wet sound making pleasure shoot through his groin.

You’d overstimulate him wouldn’t you? With that clever mouth barely pulling up a grin, eyes full of fire as you stroke him past the point of pleasure. Would you make him watch? See the way your hands would grow slick and shiny with his cum as you kept pumping and pumping, pushing him to another release. Covering you both in him, until you’re too needy to keep toying with him. Nathan cums just as he’s imagining the feeling of you dragging your bare pussy against his sensitive cock. He whines and keens off the bed, the high singing in his veins. He swears he can almost imagine the way you would moan.

His eyes open, the spell broken. He’s alone, covered in his own spend, chest heaving like he just ran a 10k. He avoids his reflection when he walks into the bathroom to clean up. His loneliness spikes again and he heads to the kitchen, reaching for the first bottle he can find.

—

“You’re late,” He says stiffly, crossing his arms as he watches you cross the space to sit at your desk.

The day after he’d gotten off thinking of you he’d had the slightest difficulty looking at you. It quickly faded, he was too greedy. Too needy, if he’s being honest. He can’t get enough, he doesn’t know if he could ever say it but you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You’re openly frazzled; your shirt isn’t tucked in, your hair is a little more frizzy than usual and you look as tired as ever. He regrets his biting tone immediately.

Even as you explain you’re moving, setting your to-go mug on the desk, fetching your calendar, booting up your computer. “I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Bateman. My sisters were less than cooperative this morning.”

Nathan turns completely away from the bins he’s been searching through, raising a brow at you in surprise, “Your sisters?”

“Yes— one is 7 the other is 14. The little made getting out of the house…difficult,” You murmur distractedly, eyes trained on your screen.

“Isn’t that your parents’ fucking job?”

His question snaps you back to the present— you hadn’t shared nearly as much as you could’ve. But you’d gone into this job wanting to be nameless and faceless. Memorable only for the quality of the work you do.

You shake your head, daring a quick glance in his direction that you immediately regret when your eyes meet his.“I realized that I’ve shared far too much about my personal life. I should work, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan immediately understands your deflecting. How many times has he been asked by reporters and interviewers where his family is? Enough times that he’s had his publicist strike the topic from the acceptable lists. That was about all he was good for anyway, Nathan says what he wants when he wants.

He goes back to the task at hand— though now with you here he doesn’t quite remember what that was. A part…some sort of part that he needed. Wires? Screws? A metal plate? He sighs in frustration and leaves without another word.

Your gaze is on the door as soon as it shuts, making sure he’s gone. The tears that you’ve been biting back fall and you bury your face in your hands. Your youngest sister had begged and pleaded for you to stay warm in bed with her this morning. With your mother so sick, you’ve practically raised her yourself these last few years. It makes her needy, which you understand. But what she doesn’t understand is how delicate the balance you found in caring for your entire family is. Middle sister lacks just as much understanding, with heaps of attitude. She doesn’t want to snuggle with you or with younger sister. Mediating this entire situation is what made you late.

It feels like you’re cracking under the pressure but that isn’t an option, is it? As if the universe wants to make it clear, your computer chimes. It’s Nathan, asking you to come to his office.

—

He’d meant to go clear his head in his office and come back to get whatever part he was in need of. But, when he sat in his chair he was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk, presumably crying by the way your shoulders jerked every once and a while.

He’s pinging you before he can think better of it. He watches you read his message. You’re such an anomaly— you sit up immediately, reaching for some tissues and cleaning yourself up as if nothing happened. You even check yourself in the reflection of your computer, fidgeting with your hair, tucking in your shirt once you stand. As soon as you start out of the office he turns off his monitors, not one to be caught snooping around though it’s right and was clear in the contract. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you don’t think your anything worth watching…Nathan would like to change that assumption.

“You pinged me, sir?”

How would he play this? He couldn’t admit that he just watched you cry.

“Trying my hand at this apologizing shit again. I— Nathan Bateman— am sorry for being insensitive. Like I said last time, I don’t know your life or you. Alright, how was that?”

“I would say a solid, 5/10, which is a 50% improvement.”

“Fuck me, you’re a tough crowd. What am I docked for? You know I’m all about perfection.”

“There was a lack of originality. And you omitted your middle name.”

It takes everything in Nathan not to giggle. The way the words come out of your mouth are so funny… or maybe he’s just obsessed. It could be both. “My middle name is classified information.”

“Does Wikipedia know that?” You ask, tilting your head in that uncanny way.

Nathan can’t hold in his laugh this time, running a hand over his beard, “You’re funnier than you look.”

Your mouth twitches, and you give him the smallest nod, “Thank you, sir. Is that all?”

He pretends to think about it. “This apology is feeling pretty one-sided to me.”

“I accept your apology, Mr. Bateman, thank you.”

“Accept something else,” He proposes, going out on a limb. Suddenly your stare is too intense, the room is too hot and small. What the fuck is he doing?

“What’s that?” You ask, as soft and sweet as ever.

“Dinner. Tomorrow,” He says simply.

“With you?”

Nathan ignores the twinge in his heart— your tone barely changed. If he wasn’t with you every single day, studying you, he wouldn’t even have noticed.

“I can invite the droids if you want. They’ll just stare at us while we eat.”

Your hand tightens around your planner. Dinner with Nathan…choosing to be around him? It seemed like as of late he was trying to be…more palatable. This could be an act of good faith. But, you have your sisters and mother to think about. You’ve given her nurse enough overtime hours in the last few weeks.

“Without getting too personal, I don’t think I’ll be able to swing it sir, I have to get home to my sisters as soon as possible.”

Yes, your family, that you never talk about. He could accommodate, what’s he the fucking boss for if he can’t?

“We’ll do it early.”

You sway a little as you think about this— that’s new, he thinks to himself, filing that information away for later.

“You’ve already got me apologizing, I can’t add saying please to the list of acceptable behaviors. I’ll lose my fucking edge.”

“How early?”

“3:30.”

“Alright, then, sir.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue , @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @kotaropuppy

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #in plain sight #arson writes #not sfw

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wooziorgans · 6 months ago

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2. damage gets done || ljh

summary: a long, difficult conversation puts y/n and jihoon on the same page, but an impromptu visit from y/n’s parents make that page seem chapters away. the best way to get over your feelings? fucking them out.

pairing: idol!woozi x male soloist!reader

genre: angst. smut. fluff. hurt/comfort.

warnings: bi-curious reader. reader has hella daddy issues. homophobia. internalized homophobia. reader has a panic attack of sorts?. readers parents show up n it all goes to shit. readers dad is super homophobic. fingering. sword crossing. jihoon gets his boobs sucked. nipple play. hickeys. kinda mean dom reader. soft dom reader. top reader. mentions of blood/tearing something during sexual activity (not detailed). anal sex. bottom jihoon. sub jihoon like hardcore. unprotected sex. blowjobs. big dick jihoon. bigger dick reader. stomach bulge. aftercare. crying. woozi in glasses n a bun.

word count: 10k

a/n: i did not mean for this to be so angsty i am sooo sorry abt this chapter but it comes w the premise of the prompt im writing off of. i am still sick but i got this done finally. (everybody cheered)

previous | masterlist | next

The following morning, and subsequent weeks after you slept with Jihoon are weird. There’s a new rhythm the two of you fall into, but it’s not an immediate change.

You brushed him off the morning after, locking yourself in your room until it was time to head to the studio, and then avoiding him until he came banging on your door, begging to talk it out. He sounded so hurt; something you’ve only heard in his voice a few times, and never directed towards you. Despite your own internal turmoil, you would not let Jihoon brood in his own feelings. When you did finally let him in to your room, he shyly confessed that he thought he had come onto you too strong, that he was worried he had fucked up your friendship irreversibly.

That wasn’t the case at all. You needed some time to process what had happened last night, but you needed to do it away from Jihoon. His presence had felt overwhelming that morning, and you needed some time to really digest the fact that you sucked your best friend's dick and then he gave you the most mind blowing head you’ve ever received. You told him such, and his cheeks flushed a deep red at the admittance that he was that good at sucking dick. You also apologized for not communicating that to him earlier in the day.

Jihoon took it like a champ, hardly able to hold eye contact with you when he asked what it meant in terms of your friendship now. Respectively, there was your life before Jihoon, your life during the beginning blossoms of friendship with him sprouting its tiny little buds to bloom into something beautiful, and there was now. You’ve never felt so understood by anyone before or after Jihoon, and losing that because you enjoyed having your tongue inside his ass would be a shame. “Nothing has to change. Of course, it kind of has… but we don’t have to make it weird.” You said, hand reaching out to grab his in reassurance.

You could see the anxiety creasing his face, and it dissolved once you touched him. The two of you were just so close as friends that it made sense to keep being friends. If anything else happens, it happens. That was what you told him.

Things did start happening, but it took a few days of unusual distance between the two of you until you got fed up with it and pulled his head down on your lap as you watched television together. You just sat like that, hand in his hair in the way it always was, and things were normal. They had changed slightly, but they were normal.

Until they weren’t. Still half asleep, Jihoon found you in the kitchen one morning making coffee. He wrapped his arms around your waist, bare chest pressing into the skin of your back. Out of reflex, he began pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. You shuddered, instinct kicking in to push him away, but then you took a few seconds to really feel his lips on your skin, and you let it happen.

You had spun him around to kiss him on the lips, which ended up in a heated makeout session with Jihoon trapped between you and the counter. He dropped to his knees, pulling your cock out of its constraints before taking you tip to base into his mouth. He had you cumming in minutes, messy bed head in his face until your hands brushed it back, eyes still half lidded with sleep. Jihoon pulled off right as you started to cum, tongue out as he let the thick white ropes hit his mouth and face.

Then he got up and walked away. You heard the shower run as you stood there, gripping the counter as you caught your breath. Later, once he was showered you asked him what the fuck that was about. He just shrugged, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I’m always horny in the mornings,” was all he offered as he took a seat beside you on the couch.

This prompted another long conversation about the direction things were going. The biggest, and hardest change for both of you to agree on was to stop saying I love you. It was something that came quite naturally in your friendship; at the end of every phone call, leaving each other after hanging out, before you snuck off into your respective rooms for the night, you always said it. Both of you agreed that if you were going to start doing the whole friends with benefits thing, that aspect of your dynamic needed to be null and void to prevent anything more complicated from happening.

After that, things did change. Instead of hiding out in your rooms when you needed to get off, you’d find each other. The biggest change was that you just… kiss each other now. In the mornings, when you have a few minutes alone in the studio, while watching anime together, before you go to bed. Most of the time, it doesn’t go anywhere, but sometimes it does, and you pull Jihoon into your lap to grind against each other.

You’ve learned a lot about Jihoon since all of this started. He’s quite needy, though he’ll never tell you that with his words; opting to tug at your sleeves when he wants something, or just goes after it if he lacks the energy to play the subtle cat and mouse game. You fingered him for the first time a few weeks ago, and discovered that he loves prostate stimulation. It renders him completely spent, has him gasping and whining against you in a way you can never seem to get enough of.

You’ve also learned that Jihoon is super big on aftercare. He says it’s important, which you know it is. You were always the one doing the aftercare with previous sexual partners, but Jihoon takes the reins sometimes and wipes your skin down with a warm cloth while peppering you skin with soft kisses as you come down. You’ve never really been taken care of before, but it’s nice. You and Jihoon have fallen into a natural rhythm with each other. You’re typically in control because Jihoon is rather submissive, but he has his moments where he has you losing your grasp on reality.

It’s so nice; being taken care of. You run a bath for the both of you after you finger him, not wanting there to be any discomfort for him later, and he takes that time to help you wash up. Though your relationship is now quite sexual in its nature, the bones of your friendship peak through in the aftermath.

It’s not all smooth sailing. You have moments of deep, intense panic after getting off with Jihoon. It’s quite sporadic; one day you’ll be fine, the next you’ll do the same thing and hate yourself for it. Jihoon refuses to leave you alone when you're like that, no matter how much you insist. He knows you can’t be left alone to your own thoughts when so much is still being internalized, and you know he’s right.

Most nights you fall asleep with each other, half of it being a safety measure to make sure you don’t overthink in the morning, the other an instinctual craving for another person's warmth. Jihoon sleeps better when you’re there; his normal bouts of insomnia slipping away as he envelopes himself in your arms.

Waking up next to Jihoon has to be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever had the privilege of experiencing. He doesn’t wake up grumpy per se, but he does whine when you go to pull away. His lips are always puffed out in a pout as you try and put a little space between the two of you. He grabs onto your shirt to keep you in bed, burying his face into your chest as he whines incoherently.

This morning is no different. It’s been three months since your friendship with Jihoon morphed into something that required you to have a lot more trust in each other. You fall asleep in Jihoon’s bed almost every night now, waking up next to him all the same.

Today, he’s particularly whiny, fists tight in your shirt as he tries to convince you to stay close to him with soft kisses to your neck and jaw. The issue with this is that Jihoon radiates heat like a furnace. You’re overheating, sweat beading on your forehead as you try to push him off of you. It’s futile; all he does is grab onto you tighter. “Angel, please. You’re gonna boil me alive like this.” You plead, finally kicking the covers off of you. He whines again, finally giving you a little space. Jihoon’s grip on your shirt loosens as he rolls onto his back.

The bun he put into his hair before he went to bed is loose and messy. Jihoon huffs out a breath before he gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom. You almost miss the morning wood he’s sporting, somehow never noticing it against your thigh.

You lay there, catching your breath and cooling down as you wait for him to return. Jihoon is back ten minutes later, bun in his hair fixed and neat, with thick rimmed black glasses on his face. He’s been wearing them a lot recently, not that you mind. He looks good in glasses, despite his eyesight being fine. The new addition to his face distracts you from what's missing.

Jihoon has discarded his boxers, cock fully erect against his stomach as he crawls onto your lap. He seems more awake now as his hands find the hem of your sleep shorts. Even just seeming him so clearly hard has your cock twitching. You were already half hard from the way he pushed himself on you earlier.

You sit up, back leaning against the pillows as your hands settle on his hips. Jihoon palms you through your shorts, teasing you carefully before he pulls your cock out. He plants a soft kiss to your lips, letting it linger as he shifts his hips forward. Your cocks bump into each other, and both of you moan lowly. Jihoon spits into his hand, wrapping it around both of you.

Initially, the concept of rubbing your dick against another mans freaked you out when Jihoon suggested it, but you ended up enjoying it a lot more than you thought you would, especially with Jihoon’s hand in the mix. It became something you did often enough, mostly when you fingered him. “Cleaned myself out. Need your fingers or I’ll lose my mind.” He sighs, eyes closing carefully. Your hand falls to his ass, middle finger carefully finding its way to his entrance. You can feel the remnants of lube around his hole, and instead of stalling, you push the tip of your finger inside of him.

Jihoon clearly wasn’t expecting that, that much is obvious when he squeaks out a choked moan, head falling into your neck to hide the flush spreading over his face.

“Needy this morning, are we?” You jest, voice still low with sleep. Jihoon rolls his hips down on your finger, taking it deeper.

“Fuck, clearly.” He laughs softly. “You can add another, I can take it.” Jihoon’s ass sucks your finger in as you prod at it with a second. While you could slip a second finger in, there's not enough lube present for that. You’re quite cautious when it comes to fingering him; the second time you did it, you ended up tearing something. It wasn’t a huge deal, Jihoon wasn’t in any pain, but there was a little blood.

“I know you can, angel. Grab the lube for me, yeah?” You prompt. The bottle of lube now has a permanent spot on the bedside table from how often it gets used. It’s almost empty. Jihoon rolls his eyes at you, reaching over to grab it. Your hand follows his hips, still keeping your finger inside of him as he moves. He doesn’t move far. You pull your finger out of him once he’s settled back on your lap. He whines, grabbing at your shirt as you take the lube from him. With both of your hands focused on something else and not him, he rolls his hips up, cocks brushing against each other as his grip around them tightens.

You pause your movements, finger stalling on the pump of the bottle. Jihoon flattens his palm against your chest, repeating the motion again. You hiss softly, bottom lip finding purchase between your teeth to silence yourself. You know Jihoon is doing this on purpose to try and get a response out of you. While you’re not a grunt as you cum guy, you’re not necessarily vocal either. Jihoon wants to hear you, and if he has to play dirty, then he’ll do that. You, however, are having none of it.

Regaining your grasp on reality, you press the pump of the bottle, squirting lube onto your fingers. Not bothering to properly lather them, your hand moves back to Jihoon entrance. You save the build up and push both of them in, immediately getting a response from Jihoon. You push both fingers in until you can’t, twisting your wrist so your palm is now brushing his balls.

Jihoon rolls his hips again. “Angel, let me do the work. You just sit here and look pretty.” Your hand finds its way up his shirt, pushing the fabric up so that you can place a kiss to the pale skin of his chest. Your lips brush his nipple, and his back arches into your touch as he moans. Jihoon tries to push himself further down onto your fingers. You pull away from his chest, eyes narrowing in a warning. Jihoon just blinks down at you, before doing it again.

“What did I just say?” It’s a rhetorical question, one asked to try and stop him from doing that, but Jihoon answers you anyway.

“Dunno,” He huffs out, and you can see from the look in his eyes and the slight smirk on his lips that he does know what you just said. He rolls his hips again, fist tightening around both of your dicks as he tries to make you move your fingers inside of him. It feels so overwhelmingly good, that you momentarily forget your need to assert yourself as you latch your mouth around his nipple. Jihoon whines quietly, grip tightening in your shirt and around your cocks.

Jihoon removes his hand from your chest to hold his shirt up. You decide to give him what he wants for now, flicking your tongue against the sensitive pink bud on his chest. He’s so responsive to each pull and tug on his nipple, back arching as he pants softly. All you can hear are his moans, and they pull you out of whatever headspace you fell into. You pull away from his chest with a lewd, wet pop. His pec shines with your split, the skin around his nipple a light bruise from the suction. Jihoon rolls his hips again, desperate for more at the loss of contact.

Your hand falls back on his ass, spreading him apart as you slowly fuck him with your fingers. Jihoon’s cock starts to leak, slick precum dripping down his shaft, over his milky knuckles and off onto the dark fabric of your shirt. “I’ve hardly even done anything, angel.” You grip the soft flesh of his ass harshly. “Since you want to do everything by yourself, even though I told you to just sit pretty.” He huffs softly at you, rolling his eyes as he thrusts up into his hand.

Out of pure reflex, your hand cracks down on his ass. Hard. Jihoon’s breath stutters, movements immediately stopping. “Oh. Oh, shit.” He hisses softly, eyes watering softly at the contact. You can’t see it, but from the way the skin of his ass is burning, you’re pretty sure there is a noticeable handprint. Immediately, you rub the skin of his ass softly to soothe the sting.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Your voice sounds like a breath with how unsure you are with what just happened. “I shouldn't've–” Jihoon cuts you off by pulling you in for a kiss. It’s dirty; all tongue and spit and the quiet whines that slip up and out of his throat. When he pulls back, he's out of breath and red in the face.

“Fuck, do that again. Please.” Jihoon rolls his hips to prompt you into punishing him, and you give him what he wants. Jihoon’s lips part, pink and pretty as he moans out when your hand makes contact with his ass again.

“Y’know,” you bite, “if we had the time and the lube, I would fuck the attitude out of you.” Your hand cracks down on his ass again, kneading the flesh once it’s in your palm. Jihoon moans, head falling back.

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll cum.” He chokes out through a strained laugh. You push your fingers in deeper, twisting them to elicit a sharp moan from him. “I never did take you for a dirty talker.” You laugh softly.

“You sure its not the idea of me fucking you that’s getting you going?” You ignore his attempt at banter, opting to instead rile him up a bit more. At your suggestion, Jihoon moans again. You twist your fingers again, angling them back towards you and hitting his prostate perfectly. He rolls his hips again, much to your dismay.

Another sharp crack to his ass. This time you spread him apart. “Shit, fuck, ‘m sorry.” He gasps. You stop thrusting your fingers inside of him, and instead focus on just milking his prostate. He whines, eyes rolling back in his head as he finally listens to you and stops the movement of his hips.

“It's not so hard to listen to me, is it angel?” You keep your pace on his prostate brutal. Jihoon seems to fall apart on your fingers, muscles twitching as he just takes it. “God, you’re so fucked out right now that all you can do is listen to me.” Jihoon just nods weakly, dark frames slipping down his face. You push them back up his face, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

He’s barely able to return it, lips parted as he pants and moans. Everything around Jihoon feels like white noise. His grip on your cocks tightens, and you know he's right there. You’re getting quite close too, cock twitching against Jihoon’s at the sounds he's making.

A few more prods directly to his prostate, and Jihoons cock is shooting thick, white ropes that stain the dark fabric of your t-shirt. The soft sounds he’s making are so erotic as the last of his cum leaks down his fist. You pull your fingers out of him, wiping them on your shirt before you reach up to pet his hair. The dark strands that are too short to fit in his bun frame his face.

Jihoon’s refractory period is rather short. He slides down your legs, moving his hand to his mouth to lick it clean of his own release. He pushes the glasses back up his nose before he takes you into his mouth. Tip to base as always, he holds you in his throat for a few seconds and it’s all you need before you’re cumming down it.

Jihoon sputters softly, almost like he’s about to gag. He doesn’t though; just tightens his throat around you until you’ve finished completely. When he pulls off, he’s panting softly, eyes watery as he lays down beside you to catch his breath.

You’re fairing no better, out of breath from the force of your orgasm. Jihoon seems to have that effect on you. Both of you just lay there, panting until you regain the energy to move. You move first, pulling your sleep shorts back up over your now soft cock, before throwing your cum covered shirt off. Jihoon stares at you, eyes raking over your chest and shoulders. You laugh softly when he looks away after you catch him. “What?” You jest, sitting up.

“Nothing.” Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms and rolling over, away from you. “You’re hot.” He whispers, but you still catch him in the act. You can see the tips of his ears turning red. You lean over him, pushing your hand down on his shoulder so he turns back on his back.

Jihoon attempts to cover his face with his hands. You pull his slender hands away from his face, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before moving to his lips. His face is beet red from the domesticity of the action, glasses knocking into your cheek at the strange angle. “Let’s get ready. You have practice in an hour.” You whisper, moving the hair out of his face with a feather-like touch.

Immediately, Jihoon shoots up, glancing at the clock. “Oh, shit.” He all but throws himself off the bed, digging through his closet to find clothes. You throw your head back in a hearty laugh, completely enamoured with amusement at Jihoon’s sudden change in demeanour.

“You’re really tense.” Seungkwan jabs a finger into your shoulder. The practice room is buzzing with noise during the fifteen minute break everyone is taking. From the other side of the room, Jihoon watches Seungkwan intensely. Seungkwan digs the heel of his hand into your back, attempting to untie the knot in your shoulder. You sigh softly.

“My parents are coming for dinner tonight.” You roll your eyes softly, cracking your shoulder as you stretch. You catch Jihoon’s eye as you look around. He’s hardly paying any attention to his conversation with Soonyoung as he glares daggers into Seungkwan. You stifle a laugh at his obvious annoyance at someone else's hands on you.

“Oh. Oh shit.” You see Seungkwan’s eyes widen in the large mirror. You just shake your head, laughing softly at his reaction. “And you’re meeting at a restaurant or…?” You shake your head again.

“No, the apartment.” You exhale sharply when Seungkwan hits a sensitive part of your shoulder, close to your neck.

“With Jihoon?” He asks, working the spot with much more care than before. “Yeah… yeah, it’s… yeah.” Is all you can manage.

“I imagine that’ll go… swimmingly.” He huffs, slightly miffed at even imagining the situation. “Your dad’s still…?” Seungkwan trails off.

“Yeah. I’m not gonna say anything but… if he starts anything I will tell him to leave.” It’s almost uncharacteristic, the way you’re speaking about kicking your father out, when you’ve spent years tolerating his beliefs in passive compliance, far too scared of him to actually say anything about them.

You watch Jihoon leave his conversation to go sit against the wall. He’s still watching you and Seungkwan intensely, eyes narrowing as Seungkwan keeps working on your shoulder. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but it’s good that you’re standing your ground.” You laugh, because it does mean a lot to hear something like that out loud.

“Thank you. I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to stand up to him when it comes down to it, but the fact that I’m even thinking about it is… good.” You stifle another sound when Seungkwan focuses his attention on your other shoulder. You can’t exactly tell Seungkwan what has changed. You can’t exactly tell him you’ve been fucking around with one of his bandmates. You can tell him other things, so you do as he works out your shoulders.

“There. All better?” He asks, as he releases his grip on your shoulders. You nod, humming softly as you stand up. “Go talk to Jihoon. He’s brooding.” Seungkwan must have noticed how tense Jihoon was throughout the duration of your conversation.

“Maybe he needs a massage too.” You jest, knees cracking as you stand. Seungkwan cringes at the sound.

“Oh, he’d kill me if I even tried to.” He laughs, patting your back to send you on your way. You walk over to Jihoon, taking a seat on the floor next to him.

“What’s got you in such a mood, angel?” You whisper, voice low so no one is able to hear the pet name you use.

“Nothing. I’m not in a mood.” He hisses, leaning back against the wall. Jihoon’s bun is looser now. You’ve seen him take it down and redo it five separate times during the practice you decided to sit in on. You chuckle, patting his thigh softly.

“You’re brooding.” You state.

“I am not brooding.” Jihoon rolls his eyes at you, expression completely flat. He is brooding.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, angel.” When he doesn’t say anything, you laugh a little louder. “Oh my god, you are. Over Kwan? Really?” Jihoon pinches your arm to get you to shut up.

“Stop, seriously. Why would I be jealous?” He snaps.

“Take it easy. I’m just teasing you.” You brush his thigh with your thumb. “But if you want to take things so seriously, maybe I will have to fuck the attitude out of you afterall.” Jihoon’s demeanour immediately changes. His face starts to burn and his eyes go wide.

“Y/N, stop. What if someone hears you talk like that?” He whispers, despite the fact that everyone else is busy on the other side of the practice room, and far too loud to even hear you if you were talking at a normal volume. All you want to do is lean over and kiss him to distract him from his paranoia. You don’t. Instead, you smile softly at him, giving his thigh a soft squeeze. You know if you keep talking to him like that, he’ll potentially pop a boner in the middle of practice, and he’d never forgive you for that, even if it’s hypothetical.

“Get back to practice, angel. I’ll see you at home.” You stand as you notice everyone else slowly getting back into their places to resume practice. Jihoon follows you, stretching as he stands.

After panic cleaning the entire apartment in an hour, and being sure to hide any and all evidence of your sexual relationship with Jihoon, you finally take a moment to breathe as the text from your mom comes in. Your parents are stopping to get gas, and then they’ll be at your apartment.

You have roughly ten minutes before the storm rolls in, and in all honesty, you’re not entirely sure if you’ve had enough time to prepare. Jihoon started grilling the chicken you seasoned last night in preparation for your parents arrival, insisting that you take a minute and get your shit together.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. There are many reasons. For starters, your father isn’t the most open minded person out there and your roommate and best friend is a gay man. You have no plans of mentioning that. You and Jihoon talked about it on the ride home, and have briefly discussed your relationship with your father before. It’s a mutual agreement that Jihoon’s love life is off the table for discussion tonight.

You also haven’t really seen your parents long enough to share a meal in the last year; at least not since you were with your ex-girlfriend. That was nearly a year ago at this point. Last time you saw your parents, you were straight. And, well, now you’re not. At least not completely.

Jihoon emerges from the kitchen, immediately walking over to you when he notices you pacing across the living room. He grips your forearms tightly, stopping you in your tracks.

You look down at him, anxiety easing up a bit once you’re in his presence. “Stop pacing, you’re gonna wear a hole through the floor.” He laughs hesitantly, unsure if his joke will land. You laugh quietly alongside him, leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous.” He gets on his toes to kiss you once more. Jihoon smiles at you with so much tenderness it makes your chest tighten softly.

“I know,” he breathes, hand finding its way up to the back of your neck to play with the hair. “But you’ll be okay.” He gives you another soft kiss.

You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him for a few moments before the buzzer to your building sounds throughout the apartment. You fix the loose strands that frame Jihoon’s face, smoothing down the bumps in his worn bun before you pull away to unlock the door for your parents. The obvious nerves on your face manifest themselves as your hand shakes when you go to open the door.

Jihoon busies himself in the kitchen, carefully watching the chicken and rice. The vegetables are done, placed on the back burner with the lid on to keep them warm. Jihoon can hear your mom’s bright voice as she pulls you into a tight hug. “Oh, you’ve gotten so muscular!” She chimes, and your bright laughter sounds the entire apartment.

Jihoon’s heart tightens at the sound. He hasn’t heard you laugh like that in a while, warm and lovely. He pushes the feeling down as he flips the spatula in his hand, eyes suddenly blurry as he takes a deep breath to ground himself. Now is not the time for this. Get a grip; be in love with him later.

The gruffness of your fathers voice pulls Jihoon back into the kitchen. He stirs aimlessly as he hears footsteps getting closer. You and your mom are already deep in conversation. You’re explaining the concept of your next album to her animatedly, hands flailing in a makeshift diagram. Jihoon catches your eye, and you smile softly before telling your parents to take a seat.

You step into the kitchen to get your parents drinks, coffee already brewed and hot. Jihoon doesn’t acknowledge you, purely focused on flipping chicken. You resist the urge to snake your arm around his waist, something you always do now when cooking. He shuts off the burner for the chicken, placing the lid on the pan to keep the heat in. As you pour your dad a cup of black coffee, you hum softly to get Jihoon’s attention.

He finally looks at you, expression completely blank. “You okay?” You whisper. Your parents are talking quietly in the dining room, and your fathers voice suddenly makes the air unsettling.

Jihoon hums softly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I just feel a little weird.” You nod, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze. You pour your mom a cup of cool water, juggling the cups in each hand. Jihoon laughs softly.

“Come say hi?” You ask in an attempt to pull him out of the kitchen and his thoughts. “You don’t have to, but my mom wants to meet you.” Jihoon swallows hard, before he follows you out of the kitchen. Your mom smiles brightly at the sight of Jihoon’s unfamiliar face.

“You must be the roommate.” Your mom greets, hand held out to shake his hand. Her hospitality in his own home catches Jihoon off guard. He takes a second to get his bearings before he shakes her hand, a soft smile on his lips. He pushes his glasses back up his face as he takes a seat.

Your father doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t make any attempt to introduce himself, but that’s probably for the better. Your mom pulls Jihoon into a conversation quickly. You watch them talk, eyeing your father every so often. His gaze is focused entirely on Jihoon, almost like he’s trying to dissect him piece by piece. You know that look. It makes your skin crawl.

Jihoon excuses himself to use the bathroom, and once he’s gone your father takes the opportunity to speak his mind, much to your dismay. “That Jihoon is quite… feminine, especially with his hair like that.” You roll your eyes internally at your fathers words. “Your hair is quite long too.” Your undercut has grown out a few inches, now making your hair much more flowy than it used to be with the new length. It’s not even that long, but any display of anything that isn’t cold cut masculinity seems to irk your father. “Quit it.” Your mom hisses quietly, though it seems to fall on deaf ears.

“You’re not associating yourself with queers are you? You’re not becoming one yourself, are you son?” He asks, and it seems to snap something inside of you; knowing he’d never be able to interact with Jihoon normally if you were upfront about everything.

“No! Jesus Christ, would you cut it out?” You snap, as you hear the bathroom door open. Jihoon appears in your line of sight as he walks down the hallway back to the table. Jihoon can see the tension in your face. Your father would have no problem ripping you a new asshole for snapping at him like that in front of other people when you were younger, but he doesn’t say anything. He just glares at you, and Jihoon once he takes a hesitant seat back at the table.

Your mom dissolves the tension by talking to Jihoon again, though you can still feel the edges of your frustration bubbling as your father just watches. The rice cooker beeps, and you and Jihoon both stand at the same time to go bring out plates and the food. “Will you be joining us for dinner, Jihoon?” Your mom asks, slightly hopeful, and you can already tell she’s taken a liking to him. Jihoon hesitates for a few seconds, eyes meeting yours.

“Uh, no, sorry. I have a late schedule tonight, otherwise I would.” Jihoon laughs softly, both of you know it's at the half-assed lie falling past his lips, but neither of your parents know any better. Still, your heart sinks softly in your chest. You gave Jihoon the option for an out tonight, and he’s taking it.

“Let me grab your headphones that I borrowed.” You say softly, motioning with your head for Jihoon to follow you into your bedroom. Both of you leave your parents at the table to have a few moments alone amidst the disaster that is, and always has been, a family dinner.

Jihoon sits on your bed, unfamiliar with the way your bed frame creaks. “I heard him.” He whispers, and you feel a small part of yourself die.

Jihoon had told you, years ago, that he hated when people made him feel small. Not only physically, but emotionally. He hated the way it made him feel so helpless. In this situation, Jihoon is completely helpless. Whether your mom unearths something through conversation that he’d rather not have out on the table, or if your father starts grilling him about his rather feminine features and flamboyant mannerisms, Jihoon is destined to feel small in this situation. So he’s doing what’s best for the time being; he’s leaving, taking himself out of the equation so no more damage can get done. Your father’s already suspicious of something, and Jihoon would rather not let you take the blunt end of its force by him being around to spark up that suspicion.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You choke out. Jihoon stands up to grab your hand carefully.

“No, I’m sorry that I can’t stick it out and support you. I just, I can’t force myself to be in a situation like this right now.” He kisses your neck softly. It does very little to calm your anxiety which is running rampant at the moment. Your eyes start to glaze over and Jihoon shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing. He gets on his toes to kiss you properly, lets it linger until the tension in your face eases. “Just breathe, you’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m just going to the gym since we didn’t have time this morning.” He brushes your grown-out bangs to the side.

Jihoon’s gaze is so incredibly tender, so careful, that it does calm you down. “Okay,” you breathe out, hand coming up to hold the side of his neck.

“I know we agreed to stop saying it because of our situation, but please remember that I love you. You’re more resilient than you think, Y/N.” Jihoon’s hand finds its spot on top of yours as he leans into your touch. You laugh quietly at his attempt to encourage you; still, it works.

“I know,” You whisper. “Love you too.”

Jihoon pats your chest softly with an open fist. “Give me back my headphones.” He whispers, and you laugh softly, pulling away from him to go retrieve the headphones you borrowed. You did borrow his headphones, so it’s not like you’re completely lying to your parents. You grab them off of your desk, placing them around his neck before you lean down for one last kiss. Jihoon squeezes your shoulder in reassurance before he heads off to his room to grab his gym bag.

You leave your room to go back and brave your parents while you set the table and bring the food out. Jihoon says goodbye to your mom on the way out, and then he’s gone, lock clicking softly behind him.

There’s not much conversation as you eat, other than your parents praising the food and telling you how excited they are to see your aunt in Busan. The entire time, your father is eyeing you carefully. You ignore it, until he asks to use the bathroom on the way out. “First door on the right.” You guide.

Once he’s gone, your mom decides to speak. Her voice is shaky, a clear indication of her hesitancy around the question she’s about to ask. “You and Jihoon, you’re not dating are you?” It catches you off guard, makes you lose balance even though you were standing perfectly still seconds before. If you had a drink, it would’ve been spat out, all over your poor mother.

“What?! No!” You gasp, in hushed shock. Your mom just shakes her head softly.

“You’ve never looked at anyone like that before. You’ve never brought anyone home, and you live with him. It’s not unreasonable for a mom to want her son to be happy, is it?” You sputter for a few seconds before she keeps going. “I know we haven’t had time to have that conversation yet, but I can see he makes you happy. Whatever’s going on between the two of you, if it makes you happy then it’s worth something.” She squeezes your shoulder softly.

Before you have time to reply, the bathroom door opens and your father approaches the porch to slip his shoes on.

“Drive safe.” You offer in an attempt to break the unusual amount of silence.

“We will. Call sometime, yeah? You know I worry.” Your mom ruffles your hair softly, a habit she never dropped from your childhood. You grimace, and she smiles.

“I will, I will. It’ll be dark when you get there.” You open the door for them, ushering them outside into the hallway.

“I love you.” Your mom hums, fumbling with the keys in her hand.

“I love you too. Text me when you get there.” Your mom hums again, waving as they begin to walk to the elevator. You don’t watch them until they're gone. Instead, you close the door, stepping back inside, and take a deep breath.

You start the tedious task of cleaning up, packing leftovers for Jihoon into glass containers and putting away ingredients that were forgotten in the chaos. You notice barely a cup of rice left in the container, and decide to distract yourself with a trip to the shop; not before you call Jihoon to tell him you might not be home when he gets back. He keeps the call short, knowing he has a set of five to finish and that you use shopping as a way to decompress.

You also pick up another bottle of lube, mask pulled tightly over your face, cap pulled down as you use the self checkout, shoving the bottle in the pocket of your hoodie. When you return home, the kitchen light is on again, which means Jihoon is home. You told him about the leftovers on the phone, and when you put away the rice, you checked the fridge to see the containers weren't there. The sink is empty, which means he already washed them.

Sometimes you think Jihoon is a godsend, and this is one of those moments.

The shower seems to be running in his suite, and you take the opportunity to change into plaid pyjama pants, forgoing a shirt altogether. With nothing else to do, and simply wanting Jihoon’s company, you wait for him on his bed, the new bottle of lube replacing the old ones spot on top of the bedside table.

The shower stops, and you hear the whirl of the blow dryer for a few minutes. That stops too. The various clinking noises from the bathroom stop, and the door opens. Jihoon pads into his bedroom, a silky black robe covering his naked torso. He jumps at the sight of you on his bed, shirt somewhere else as you sit against the headboard. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” He laughs softly, walking towards you. “I didn’t know you were home.” You spread your legs, patting your thigh for him to join you.

Jihoon does as you silently request, thick thighs straddling your waist as he takes a seat on top of you. His hair is still a little damp as it brushes your neck when he leans in for a kiss. You return it slowly, taking your time to lap at his mouth. Jihoon moans quietly, fingers brushing over your chest and shoulders as you kiss him stupid.

Your hands find his ass naturally, gripping and kneading the flesh softly over the silk of his robe. You push the fabric up, over his ass to have direct access to the hem of his boxers. Jihoon moans again when you deliver a soft slap to the area over his briefs. Your hand makes contact with the material, and instead of going back in for another one, you grip the flesh of his ass harshly, pulling him apart.

You move two fingers towards his hole to tease him, and that’s when you feel it.

Something foreign and geometric greets your fingers. It’s warm from his body heat, but still colder than the rest of his skin. Both of you still, and Jihoon turns his face away from you to hide his embarrassment. “What’s this, angel?” You ask, pushing your fingers directly against the object. Jihoon squeaks softly, body jolting before he lets out a low moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just rocks his hips back against yours, and you can tell from the movement of his face against your neck that his bottom lip is in between his teeth to keep himself quiet. You do it again, whilst your other hand comes up to the silk belt of his robe. In one quick motion, you pull the knot undone, and his whole bare chest meets yours.

Jihoon pulls away from you in slight shock at the fluidity of your movements, the ability you have to undo knots one handed. As if you haven’t been unhooking bras for years. You chuckle softly as your hands find the band of his briefs, and you pull those down over his ass with just as much fluidity.

Jihoon’s cock slaps his stomach, and it’s only now that you notice he’s hard, already leaking, and you suspect it might be because of the plug inside of him. You take a moment to take in his state of undress; milky, soft skin and muscles which are still pumped from his workout, and his pretty pink cock which is leaking beads of precum down his shaft. You’ve seen him shirtless before, watched his cock as he brushed it against yours, but you’ve never seen both things together.

Even though his boxers are still halfway down his thighs and his dark robe covers his arms, this is the most naked you’ve ever seen him. Jihoon’s face flushes under the intensity of your gaze, analytical and solid as you just stare. He goes to pull his robe closed, but you stop him with a firm hand to his stomach, thumb brushing over the ridges of his abs. He stills, lets your hands feel him as you brush the robe off his shoulders. He lets it fall, the fabric pooling at his elbows before he shrugs it off. Jihoon’s black robe falls onto the white sheets, such a stark contrast, and it all seems to click into place. This, tonight, is the night it happens.

Both of you seem to have the same idea as you both lean in for a kiss. Your lips meet, and it's immediately hungry; all tongue and teeth, uncoordinated and messy. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him to you, before you roll him over. Jihoon hits the mattress with a small oof, eyes stary and wide at the sudden display of strength.

You take the opportunity to pull his boxers the rest of the way off, reaching up to grab an unused pillow to put under his ass. You wrap an arm around both of his legs, lifting his hips off the mattress to put the pillow under his ass. Jihoon just stares at you, completely star struck and incredibly horny. You push his knees up to his chest, finally getting a look at the plug inside of him.

It’s a simple metal plug with a large, sapphire blue, heart shaped gem at the base. Your fingers brush over it, and Jihoon stutters out a few incoherent syllables before he can form words. “I, um, sometimes I just like to… Fuck, are we really gonna do this?” He gasps, as you grab a hold of the toy, pulling it ever so slightly out before pushing it back in.

“If you want to, but I’m so game to fuck you tonight.” You breathe out. Jihoon laughs, though it’s strained.

“You have such a way with words. No wonder your albums always top the charts.” He jokes, and you take the opportunity to massage his balls to get him to stop talking so that you can focus on preparing him, though it seems he’s done most of the work himself.

“I’m about to top you, too.” You laugh quietly as he moans out. “Bought us a new bottle of lube while I was getting rice.” You kiss his pec as you play with the plug, slowly fucking him with it without taking it out.

You settle back on your knees, watching the way his hole spasms with each twist of the plug. He’s whiny and desperate, already getting close to being fucked out. You let go of his balls and the plug to reach and grab the lube, taking the opportunity to rid yourself of your pyjama pants and boxers. It’s Jihoon’s turn to stare.

“Fuck, you’re so…” He trails off. You just smirk before turning your attention back to his ass. You finally give yourself permission to pull the plug all the way out of him, before plunging it back in. There, you get to see the full size of it.

It’s not the biggest thing in the world, but it’s not small either. It would fill Jihoon’s palm with a significant weight to it. When it slips out, gravity pulls it towards the bed and you have to stiffen your wrist to push it back in. Jihoon moans, hands grasping at the sheets. “Yeah? Care to explain all of this to me angel?” Jihoon flushes deeper, his blush now spreading to his chest.

“Sometimes I just like to feel full. You weren’t supposed to know.” He hiccups as you keep fucking him with the toy. Jihoon spreads his legs, bringing them down from his chest to stop the slight aching in his knees. You catch a glance at his leaking cock, and pick up your pace only to slow down again. It’s brutal; all your teasing has Jihoon close to tears.

“You can take it, angel.” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face and planting a soft kiss on his lips. He can barely return it.

“If you keep doing this I’ll cum, and I don’t want to yet.” He whines, knuckles turning red as his fingers twist into the sheets. As much as you would love to keep working him up like this, the girth of the plug has prepared him enough. You pull it out, leaning over to set it on the bedside table. Your cock brushes against his thigh, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, completely unaware of how hard you were up until this point.

You’ve always been far more of a giver in bed, willing to neglect your own needs to make your partners feel good, and it’s no different with Jihoon. What is different is how hard he gets you, how his moans and whines seem to have an effect on you far stronger than anything else.

“Shit, do you have any condoms?” You ask, once you settle back on your knees.

“Don’t need them. I’m clean, and can’t get pregnant.” He laughs softly.

“Yeah, no, it’s just… I’ve fucked anyone raw before.” You’ve heard from friends that sex without a barrier is mind blowing, and you’re not sure if you can really take that with how worked up Jihoon’s noises make you.

“First time for everything, right? We don’t have to if you would prefer to wait and just buy condoms.” Jihoon reaches for you, grabbing your bicep and rubbing soft circles on it with his thumb. You shake your head, leaning forward to kiss him as you flip the cap off the bottle of lube.

“I’ve had a lot of firsts with you.” You laugh softly before connecting your lips. Jihoon sighs into the kiss, hand finding its way into your hair and your tongues lap at each other.

You use this opportunity to press on the pump of the bottle, squirting some into your hand to lather your cock. Ever since Jihoon introduced you to this specific type of lube, you’ve never looked back. Thank god for pumps. You bite back a groan as your hand meets your cock, lubing it up well.

You opt to plunge three fingers inside of Jihoon to use up the excess lube on your fingers. Jihoon gasps, clearly not expecting the intrusion so soon. He’s loose enough for your fingers to slide in, but still tight around them. You know he’s going to kill you.

With lips still locked together, you pull your fingers out after scissoring them a few times. You carefully guide your cock to his entrance, rubbing your tip against his entrance a few times before you break the kiss. “Ready?” You ask, and it’s more for yourself than him.

“Yeah, just go slow.” He breathes, arms now above his head. You do as he says, slowly prodding his entrance with your tip. You do it a few times, pushing a little further until you finally feel him open up and relax enough for you to push your tip inside.

Jihoon grabs at the pillows above him, eyelids fluttering shut as he takes deep breaths. You finally get your tip inside, and stall for a few seconds at the warmth of his walls. He’s still so fucking tight, it makes your head spin at the completely new sensation. Once you’re good to go, you push in further.

Where you’d normally bottom out, Jihoon seems to suck you in further until there’s barely an inch left to go. Jihoon gasps and whines with each inch you push inside him, shifting and squirming in place as he adjusts to the stretch and length. His knuckles are white, stands of his dark hair finding their way inside his grasp. While he can’t seem to form words, he sure is vocal.

You push the last inch of your cock inside, taking a deep breath as you let both of you adjust. Everyone was right; having sex without protection is a different breed of pleasure. You close your eyes as you focus on your breathing. “Okay,” Jihoon pants, “you can move now.” His voice is shaky, muscles tightening around your cock dangerously.

“Oh, this isn’t for you, angel.” You pant, a strained laugh slipping past your lips. When you open your eyes again, Jihoon is looking up at you, pink lips parted, eyes glazed over with lust, cock leaking against his stomach.

Jihoon swears quietly as he takes in your face. You wrap your hand around his cock to give him something for the time being, and that’s when you feel it. It’s barely there, at the bottom of his stomach, hidden under the ridges of his abs, but it’s there.

Your knuckles brush it first, and you take a moment to look down to see if it’s visible. Ever so faintly, his stomach bulges with the intrusion of your cock. You swear, pulling out a few inches before you push back in. Sure enough, the bulge returns when you push back in. “Fuck, is that your–” Jihoon cuts himself off when you push down on his lower stomach, and you can feel the pressure on your cock. You laugh, aghast at the discovery. You’ve never been able to fit all of your cock inside someone, never been able to see it do that.

“It is.” You exhale deeply, as you start to slowly pull back out.

“God, you’re so fucking deep.” Jihoon hisses, eyes rolling back as you thrust back in. You brush his hair out of his face affectionately, cooing softly as you start to fuck him.

Your chosen pace is slow, nearly brutal. You take a second to adjust your position on your knees, and the slight angle change has Jihoon’s back arching as your cock brushes his prostate. He lets out a high-pitched whine, eyes closing when you hold him in place by the hips to continue hitting that spot. It’s foul play, focusing in on his prostate, but you’re not faring much better at how tight and wet he is.

You pick up speed, balls slapping against his ass with each thrust. Low moans from you and high pitched whines from Jihoon fill the room alongside your laboured breathing. One of his arms falls to cover his face. You catch it before he can hide from you, tsk-ing softly as you keep fucking him. Knowing he won’t win this fight, Jihoon wraps that hand around his cock, jerking himself off in time with each thrust.

Jihoon’s other arm wraps around your neck, pulling you closer and in for a kiss. He’s hardly able to kiss you, completely fucked out as he just pants against your mouth. It’s too much. His eyelashes are wet with tears, completely overstimulated from two types of stimulation. His nails rake down your back, the soft burn only spurring you on more. Jihoon’s hand stops moving on his cock, and you take the opportunity to put your own hand in its place.

Something about being in complete control of Jihoon’s pleasure, stimulating him from both perspectives, making him fall apart underneath you; something about it has you picking up speed, head falling into his neck as you start to lick and bite at the pale skin, careful not to leave any marks.

Jihoon gasps out your name, small tears falling down the sides of his face, before he’s shooting thick white ropes of cum out of his cock. His release coats your hand, hitting his chest and your stomach. He spasms, full body jerking as you fuck him through it, hand still stroking him in time with each thrust. It doesn’t take long for you to get where you need to be. “Where do you want it?” You ask, out of breath, voice low and shaky from holding yourself up.

“Inside.” Jihoon whimpers, nails digging into your back from the prolonged overstimulation. You do as he says, stilling as you cum. Jihoon moans, pulling your hand off his cock. You pull out carefully, pulling away from him to watch your cock slide out. Some of your cum slips out of his ass and you watch it slide down onto the pillow.

You collapse on the bed beside him, rolling onto your side to face him. Jihoon’s chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his high. You’re doing no better, breathing laboured and sporadic as you fall out of your lust.

The post nut clarity is strong. One minute you're watching Jihoon, brushing his bangs out of his face, gaze on him soft. The next, your whole body feels on fire as an unfamiliar burn in your lungs ignites your whole body on fire. You can’t breathe, and then the tears start.

Jihoon is immediately pulled out of whatever post-orgasm bliss he’s experiencing as your whole body shakes, completely wracked in a violent sob. He rolls over off his back quickly, pulling you to his chest as you cry. There’s no logical reason for your panic, you know this, but then you start thinking and oh god, you can't stop.

Maybe the timing was off; maybe you’d be fine if your parents didn't show up today, if your father did not scrutinize Jihoon right off the bat. Still, you just had sex with another man, and for some reason it freaks you out more than it should. Jihoon just holds you, unsure of what else to do. He lets you cry, because it’s all he can do, and you don’t pull away because you can’t.

It takes you about five minutes for your breathing to go back to normal. When you finally have a grasp on your surroundings, wherever you are doesn’t feel at all like home. The earth feels far, far away. All you can recognize is the dim glow of the lamp and Jihoon’s chest. You blink a few times, completely exhausted.

Jihoon starts whispering a soft mantra of: It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re safe, I’ve got you. It seems to work in grounding you once you’re able to recognize sound again. While it might not be entirely true that things are okay right now, something in Jihoon’s voice tells you that it will be okay. Maybe in the morning, maybe in a week, maybe sometime in the future; eventually.

You’ve already been ripped out by the stem, left on the dirt for people to step on. The damage has been done, and there is no going back. The difference between just being left to rot is that you have Jihoon. He’s willing to replant you, care for your damaged roots; he’s willing to care for you, mend your wounds until you’re whole again. All you can do is move forward.

Your eyes feel heavy with dried tears, head pounding from the incessant crying you just spent the last ten or so minutes doing. You groan softly, giving Jihoon the first sign in ten minutes that you’re alive, aside from your laboured breathing. Immediately, his hand is in your hair, pulling you tighter to his chest as he presses a hesitant kiss to the top of your head.

You smile weakly against his chest, hand reaching out for him. Jihoon laces your fingers together, squeezing softly in reassurance.

He rubs soft circles on your back, holding you close until your breathing starts to even out. Jihoon doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, not when you’re like this. The drying lube and cum will leave his sensitive skin irritated and red in the morning, but that’s a problem for later. Right now, you need him here, and there isn’t anything Jihoon wouldn’t do to make you feel safe.

a/n: shits going down. sorry guys but not rlly.

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