#indoor out door fabric

[incorrect-hakuouki]

Eclectic Family Room - Family Room A picture of a medium-sized eclectic enclosed family room with a medium-tone wood floor, beige walls, and a media wall.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

it’s downright pouring outside.

suguru rests on the living room couch, cooped up in a bundle of soft blankets, watching droplets ricochet against the windows. heavy, sharp, like the rain is trying to break into your apartment — a steady pitter patter that makes him feel at ease.

it’s cozy, he thinks. being indoors, safe and warm and dry, while the outside world is blanketed by gray. wearing baggy clothes, a pair of reading glasses, his hair tied up into a loose bun; slender fingers turning the pages of the new novel you gave him.

he thinks of you, and finds himself frowning.

suguru got home just before storm clouds gathered in the sky — but as far as he knows, you’re still outside. he’s memorized your comings and goings, what time you usually return home, the paths you tend to favour. as any attentive roommate should.

so he’s a little worried. usually, you’d be home by now. and you still haven’t replied to his messages.

tentatively, he reaches for the warm cup of tea on the coffee table, bringing the ceramic to his lips. sipping from the green, honeyed brew, letting the scent soothe his growing nerves. he shouldn’t be too high-maintenance; you’re a perfectly capable adult. if he nags at you all the time, you’ll just be weirded out. and the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

so it’s fine. you’re fine, he’s sure. there’s no need for him to freak out over your whereabouts. he needs to maintain his cool, calm exterior.

— suddenly, the click of a lock being turned.

suguru’s head whips towards the front door. a moment passes, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, untangling himself from the heap of blankets he’s burrowed into — gently setting the cup back on the table, fixing his hair, making sure he’s presentable — before making his way towards the hall.

and there you are. clumsily dragging the door open, stumbling inside, keys jingling as you step over the threshold; absolutely soaked. just as he feared.

”hey…”

you meet his gaze. panting softly, cheeks a little flushed, wet locks of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. disheveled, letting out a sheepish little laugh — gosh, why do you have to be so cute? — leaning down to pull your shoes off. you’re wearing a thin, white shirt. entirely drenched. 

suguru looks away, a heat sticking to his cheeks.

”hey,” you greet, a little out of breath. tossing your shoes away, tugging absently at your collar. ”god. i feel like a drowned rat.”

at that, he lets a little chuckle slip. shaking his head, taking a step back — careful not to let his gaze stray towards the soaked fabric of your clothing. ”why didn’t you call me? i would have picked you up.”

”well, i thought about it,” you hum, walking right past him, ”but i figured you’d still be at work.”

suguru frowns, ever so slightly, discontentment in his eyes. ”… they let me go early today. but you should have texted me, either way. what if you get sick?”

”i’ll be fineeee,” you slip on a grin, turning back to face him. ”just need a quick shower. don’t worry, okay?”

he narrows his eyes, playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in response. then he exhales, hands on his hips. feigning exasperation. 

”… fine, fine. need me to go get you a clean shirt?”

”ah. well...” you let out a wince, earning a tilt of his head. ”i haven’t done my laundry, in like… a week.”

a moment passes. suguru’s lips curl up, an exasperated exhale slipping from his lips. he gazes at you, ever so fondly, raising a brow. ”i asked you if you needed me to wash anything for you.”

”i know, but…” you scratch at the back of your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. ”i don’t want you to pull all my weight. we both live here.” now there’s a pretty little pout on your lips. it makes suguru want to run his thumb over the sensitive skin, soothe it away.

but he only clears his throat. 

”i don’t mind,” he answers, truthfully. ”i like doing laundry. you know that.”

”… still.”

his smile only grows, at your quiet mumble, something soft blooming in his eyes. he takes a step forward. ”we’ll see about laundry later. in the meantime… want to wear one of my shirts?”

the words have left his lips before he can think them through — maybe a little too eager. silently, he curses himself for being so forward. but you raise your head, meeting his amber eyes, blinking so sheepishly that he thinks he’d give you just about anything you could ask for.

”… is that okay?” 

”more than okay,” he reassures you, a smile on his face. ”i’ll get you something comfy.”

you quiet down, for a moment. still pulling at the collar of your shirt, making sure the thin fabric doesn’t stick to your soaked skin. ”… alright,” you exhale. ”that’d be great, then.”

a hum buzzes in his throat. suguru walks past you, towards the hallway leading up to his room, ruffling your wet hair in passing. his heavy palm on your head, a perfect fit. smiling to himself.

”got it. one second, okay?” 

behind him, you nod — but he can’t see it. walking into his room, rummaging through his closet, trying not to lose his mind at the idea of you wearing one of his oversized shirts. maybe a pair of sweatpants, maybe a tank top… he gulps at the thought. heartbeat accelerating, a jittery feeling in his throat.

he settles on a big, comfortable hoodie. bundling it up in his arms, before making his way back to where you’re still standing, still soaked, shivering a little. 

”here,” he hums, passing the bundle of soft fabric into your awaiting arms. you nuzzle into the pile, already looking comforted; warming his heart down to the marrow. he hopes you like the cologne he picked out, earthy and deep. a hint of cinnamon. ”now go take your shower, hm?”

”mm. thank you.” you give him a smile, cheeks still damp, a little flushed. ”you’re too nice to me.”

suguru resists the urge to frown. resists the urge to tell you that there’s no such thing, that you deserve every last drop of kindness he can wring out of his cramped-up heart. he knows he shouldn’t be too forward, but you’re making it difficult. you always make it so difficult.

(or maybe he’s just a weak, weak man.)

”oh, please,” he gives you a playful little roll of his eyes, sighing gravely. ”this is the bare minimum. we don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

”we don’t,” you grin. ”i have a feeling you’d just end up feeding me soup all day.”

a chuckle flows from out his lips. he hopes it doesn’t come out as shaky as his heart feels, just at the thought — the idea of taking care of you like that. being allowed to tend to you, being trusted by you in that way. ”well, i am a chef. need to make sure i don’t get rusty, yeah?”

there it is, again. the crinkle of your eyes, that upturn of your lips, all things he finds himself constantly seeking — suguru exhales, somewhat in bliss. he might need to quit cigarettes for good, soon. it wouldn’t do for him to have more than one vice.

while you take your shower, your roommate lounges on the couch. or at least, he tries to — though his feet inevitably take him to your tiny kitchen, to the water cooker, to the cabinet with all his expensive tea bags. he picks out a nice, strong ginger brew. something to help boost your immune system. silently, drowsily, he pours water into a ceramic cup, stirs the slowly brewing tea with a honey-clad teaspoon. raindrops cascade against the window, and the faraway sound of thunder reaches his ears.

it’s cold outside, but warm and cozy in here. in the home you’ve made for yourselves. he’s really, really glad that he followed satoru’s advice — that he put out that advert, that the first person who reached out ended up being you. he’s happy to share a living space with you, these cozy leftover afternoons. he’s happy to have someone to brew tea for.

(what more could a man like him ask for?)

”um, suguru?”

he stiffens. ears perking up at the sound of your voice, that mellow little lilt — broken out of his syrupy stupor. after a moment, he turns around.

and his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

you’re standing there, right at the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room, hair a little damp from the shower — and you’re wearing his hoodie. it cascades down your frame, the hem of it ending right above your knees, sleeves rolled up to reveal your hands. that hoodie is baggy even on him, but you’re just drowning in the fabric. his heart feels like it’s about to burst, pupils wide as saucers.

suguru lets out a shaky sigh.

”jesus…”

a series of blinks. you tilt your head, like a confused puppy, glancing up at him with a doe-eyed look. fuck, he wants to bundle you up in his arms. he wants you to fall asleep on his chest, wants to keep you there forever. god, who thinks stuff like that?

(he needs to get a grip, and fast. he can already feel his ears growing hotter.)

”it looks… kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?” you mumble, sheepishly, clouded with what he thinks must be shyness. cute. ”this isn’t really my size…”

suguru lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head, raven locks swaying with the movement. ”i can see that. looks good on you, though.”

”… does it?” you let your arms fall slack, at your sides, the softened fabric swallowing your hands entirely. he can’t even see the tips of your fingers. oh, how his heart aches — it’s squeezing so tightly he fears his chest might cave in, but all he can do is nod.

he turns around, again, absently clearing his throat. clinking the teaspoon against the rim of your cup, stirring idly. ”is it comfortable?”

”mhm!”

a warm smile. ”good.”

silently, you scoot closer, taking your rightful place beside him. resting your elbows on the counter, watching his movements, the flick of his long fingers. one of his rings catches on the ceramic, a quiet clang.

”here,” he hums, pushing the cup towards you. when you look up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges, warm and sweet, a melting pair of honeycombs. ”drink up.”

a moment passes. ”… you really are too sweet for your own good, you know that?” 

suguru grins. his heart blossoms a little more; petals sticking between the ridges of his ribs. it manifests as a delighted little chuckle, flowing out his throat.

”don’t thank me yet — there’s sushi for you in the fridge. they let us bring leftovers home again.”

”really? i can have some?”

suguru raises a brow. smiling, all the while. ”would i be offering otherwise?”

(you can have anything, he wants to say. i doubt i could say no. i’m a little weak, when it comes to you.

such embarrassing words.)

a heavy sigh escapes you, laced with relief. taking hold of the cup, raising it to your lips, sipping slowly. ”god, you’re the best. i’m starving.”

”haha… better eat, then, yeah?”

nod, nod. you give him another one of those giddy grins, putting your cup down, taking a step back. suguru can’t help but turn his head, to catch a glimpse of you — how cozy you look, waddling around in that big hoodie, hair a little tousled. humming softly to yourself, tapping the tips of your fingers against the handle of the fridge. it mashes well with the endless pitter patter against the windowpane. a purr of thunder echoes in the distance, and suguru feels at peace. hyacinths line the windowsill, the crinkle of a plastic container being rustled rings out across the room. he watches, listens, observes. wallowing in the feeling. 

domesticity. 

with a breathy, blissed-out exhale, his eyes fall shut. smile dripping with sweetness, barely contained. wishing on every single droplet that you’ll stick around a little longer than your lease allows.

”here,” you grin, stepping into his line of vision. handing him a plate full of sushi, all his favorite pieces. ”you eat up, too.”

suguru smiles.

”what would i do without you?”

(that’s a bridge he’ll worry about crossing another day.

for now, this is more than enough.)

[yandere-sins]

Bad Guy

First Prompt! And I just so happen to find a character that I thought would really match the vibe I wanted to go for. I'm so excited to write for him since I've been mostly keeping out of writing for LaDS, but I do love the characters ♥

Fandom: Love and Deepspace Pairings: Yandere!Sylus x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con, BJ, Gagging, Non-Con Touches, Lingerie, Reader is a virgin and inexperienced, Pet names, Degradation, Nicknames), Mention of Body Issues, Forced Captivity, Swear Words, Long Post Prompt: @sintember Innocence - What would you do to preserve it, what will be done to tarnish it?

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Come now, you make me look like the bad guy."

Legs quivering, you could barely stomach looking down at yourself. It didn't help that you felt how skimpy the outfit was with every move you made. Felt the strings that kept the fabric together pressed into your skin, bit you as if the shame was not enough harm. But looking up and straight ahead was not an option you had either. Not when you knew the smirk on the face that awaited you. Knew about the hungry, predatory sheen in Sylus' eyes if you met them head-on.

Why you? Why did he choose you? You kept wondering as you stood in his bedroom, barely two steps from the man who had ruined your life. You couldn't think of a good reason as to why he needed to keep you to himself, lock you up like an exotic animal, and demand to be the only one to put their eyes on you. Maybe if you had been especially pretty or incredibly rich, his infatuation would have made sense. But it really didn't. None of his actions made sense.

And by now, you didn't even know if you wanted to cry or be angry with him anymore.

The sheer, triangle coverings did nothing to hide, only to expose your nipples, strained as you felt the nubs getting harder. The fabric rubbed them a little more every time you breathed, lungs expanding. Bitterness overcame you as pleasure turned to shame turned to helplessness. You could only stand there, both hands reaching down to hide your privates, all while you heard the man in front of you chuckle.

"Glad to amuse you," you muttered bitterly, biting your lip so hard it tore beneath your teeth. Wearing an outfit that split right around your pussy, giving even easier access than it gave a full view of it, was proof of how you couldn't win against him. If he wanted to, he could be sneaky and uncaring about what you wanted, and forcing you to wear this was yet another challenge he was winning to hold above your head. Sylus had long begun to chip away at any pride or dignity you had, finally ready to deliver the final blow. But although you wanted to break down and cry, hide from the embarrassment, your feeble fighting spirit refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break down and beg for your clothes back.

You'd be giving him exactly what he wanted—power.

Power over you. The upper hand in this month-long dispute. You had sought him out for a deal, an equal exchange. And he had broken that deal the moment you put your trust in him just so he could keep you for whatever twisted reason. People had warned you of deals with the devil, but you had been too stupid to listen, now finding yourself in a situation too horrifying to speak of. Captivity.

It wasn't like he made you work to earn your keep. There were three meals provided to you every day, and Sylus tried to join whenever he could. He bought you expensive clothes, accessories, and entertainment, always asking what you needed, but never reflecting on his actions, not even when you told him he couldn't buy your love. There was constant surveillance, and the outside was a threat to your life, so the windows and doors stayed locked tightly. You had no means to escape, only able to stay indoors and wait like a good pet.

"But you are the bad guy here, forcing me to wear this."

Your addition seemed to make him thoughtful, a small hum escaping Sylus before he extended his arm towards you. It was a bad idea, you knew that. But if you refused to take his hand, he'd simply come to get you, and you couldn't afford to struggle looking like this.

Embarrassed, you forced one hand away from hiding what should have never been exposed in front of the likes of the leader of Onychinus, someone you thought would be interested in what you had to offer in exchange for the help you needed. Now, it almost seemed like all he wanted was your body, although you doubted it. You never liked seeing yourself in the mirror, but you didn't know anyone who enjoyed seeing themselves. You just thought it was normal not to feel like you were special, and yet, Sylus made you wear something that hid nothing of your insecurities from him.

A shuddering breath escaped you as his fingers wrapped around your hand like a snake suffocating its victim. But he moved on quickly from the threatening touch, twisting and turning his palm until it slithered beneath yours, fingers entwining before he gave you a jerk, forcing you towards him.

You couldn't help but wonder what changed in that one month, although you were lying if you said you didn't see the change in your captor. You thought he was out for ransom at first, keeping you just for the sake of exploiting more out of you than what you were willing to give. Then you caught him watching you, eyes almost softening as he observed. He'd done more than enough touching and manhandling over the course of the month, but he never forced you to wear lingerie and expose yourself.

Admittedly, your fall wasn't graceful as you were pulled forth. Your legs staggered over the sudden jerk, your free hand coming down just behind Sylus's shoulder. One of your legs hit the edge of the couch, knee bending with nowhere else to go until your shin was settled next to his thigh. You sacked forward, the strength in your torso handicapped from the awkward position, but it was better this way. Anything was better than to look into his face.

"The bad guy, eh? So far, I've been pretty nice to you. I have no idea what you mean."

Sylus played with the skimpy fabric around your waist, rubbing the material between his fingers as if to gouge its value. He was tugging at the strings, threatening to undo the triple knots you had made to keep it all together. All while you were shivering from the cold and the hatred he invoked inside of you.  

Anger flooded your mind, and you threw your head back, ready to let him have it! Too late did you realize he baited you, forcing you to look at him despite your refusal, the grin on his lips disgustingly victorious, his expression almost besotted now that you met his eyes. There was strength to be drawn from your embarrassment, fury brewing in the pit of your stomach. Your free hand curled into a fist, and you fixated your gaze on his stupid face, ready to bash in that smirk he loved to give you so much!

"Not quick enough," Sylus lamented as he caught your fist in his hand, closing around it in a painful grip. You winced, and he brought your arm down, twisting it behind your back while squeezing the other hand he hadn't given up on holding. "Now, now, let's play nice. And here I thought you liked my gift."

Slinging his whole arm around your midriff, Sylus suddenly pulled you on top of his lap, your legs losing balance, and forced your hips down to settle on top of the bulge in his pants. The second your crotch met his, you felt nauseous, the helplessness making you desperate to get away. You hated every second of this interaction, hated this man for all the abuse he put you through. Was this what he had wanted all along? A sex toy? Why wait this long if he intended to defile you anyway?

Even though you tried to be still as a board, when Sylus bent you backward, closely following behind, you shivered as his hot breath grazed over your nipple. You stared down in horror as his tongue slid out, only the tip of it flicking over your nipple before he watched the nub bounce back into place and, using the flat side of his tongue, pressed down onto it. You shuddered, biting your lip again to hold back a moan.

The room wasn't cold, but his breath felt incredibly hot through the mesh fabric of the coverings, his tongue almost like a hot iron pressed to your skin. Sylus looked up, and you saw the agonizing sight of yourself in the reflection of the red irises, exposed and vulnerable. He smirked, opening his mouth just far enough to take your nub between his teeth, pulling it towards him as you sucked in your breath.

You couldn't help it. Couldn't help the pleasure zapping down your spine and between your legs, the mewl that escaped you as Sylus's teeth slipped off your nipple and bit into the mesh fabric. Your reflection looked so pathetic, but he seemed pleased as he kissed your abused nub, as if to appease it after his teasing.

"I heard something interesting," he muttered against your chest, trailing kisses from one side to the other, briefly burying his face in your body and letting out a content rumble. "Heard you've been wholly neglected, poor thing."

"What do you--"

Giving the hand behind your back a firm shake, warning it to stay in place, Sylus released it, only to drive his hand down to your ass. He slipped lower as you piped up, only to silence you again with his touch. It made you realize fairly quickly what he meant, his fingers curiously slipping through your slick.

"That's not true at all," you argued, closing your eyes and shying away from his keen gaze.

"Really now?"

Feeling his lips curl into a grin above your other nipple was an unfamiliar torture, the fabric of the cover transferring every movement dutifully, heightening your sensitivity. "So the reason you are so wet is because you are experienced. Is that what you're saying? You're not a virgin whose anticipation is making you eager, Kitten? Did you secretively hope I'd help you release some of the tension?"

You felt his fingers apply pressure to your cunt, threatening to slip inside and forcing you to shoot upwards, recoiling from the touch. The throb of his cock beneath your slit vanished, and you cursed your body for aching, almost longing to return to his lap. But how could you? At this rate, he was truly going to take your virginity from you, even though you tried to act as if he wasn't.

It was such a stupid sentiment to cling to the concept of virginity, especially in the situation you were in. There could be potential gain by losing it, yet you were holding on to it like a lifeline. Considering that, in one month, you had lost all kinds of things that made your life yours, it was understandable that crossing this line scared you. It was a small rebellion that would prove you weren't completely lost to this man's whims if only you could keep it.

"No! No, wait!" you huffed as his hold on you tightened, trying to keep you in place so he could continue evading every little piece of privacy you still had. If only for your sanity, you had to at least try to conserve it. You weren't keeping yourself for marriage necessarily, but having your first time with the man that kidnapped and imprisoned you would definitely do you no good.

"I'm... I'm unwell! I'll do something else for you, but not this. Let's not go there... Sir."

Halting all his movements, Sylus's brows furrowed, and he leaned back, looking up at you. Of course, you didn't miss how he tensed when you called him Sir, but even though it cost you a lot of your pride to call him that, it was the most you got for a reaction. You could only assume he could see the fake, nonchalant expression you forced, perhaps your embarrassment too. But you hoped it would deter him. When you looked back at him, he almost seemed... concerned. Hopefully, that would be in your favor.

"Are you sick?" he asked, both accusatory and worried at the same time. As if he was offended, you didn't tell him.

"No, I'm... Actually yeah! I feel sick! I got cramps, and I'm sure my period is just around the corner--"

"Darling," he interrupted you, and your heart rate quicked at the sly grin playing around his lips. "You're so adorable when you try to lie, but I'll have you know that a bit of blood has never stopped me.

Tell me the truth, or I'll assume you're just nervous."

Fuck, you thought to yourself, chewing your stinging lip again as you thought about what to do. Sylus returned back to your chest, pressing his lips to your unattended nipple again before sucking it in for a tease. You drew in your breath sharply as you thought about a lesser evil to deter him from taking your last strand of dignity, the one thing you could hold over his head. But it would cost you greatly to protect your virginity, and you almost wavered in your determination to keep it a secret.

"I'll... I'll suck you off."

Sylus stilled, and you saw his eyes widening. For a moment, no one said anything, and although it was hard to endure his inquiring gaze, you forced yourself to face it head-on, showing him you meant it. One of his eyes felt especially exposing, the red so much more vibrant. But just a moment later, his lips curled into a wide smirk, freeing your nipple as he drew back.

His expression was almost soft as he gazed over your body, all the way down to where your hips met. You saw the longing in his gaze and felt the throbbing of his cock against your pussy, but then he looked up at you again, and for a moment, you felt adoration wash over you. Approval, genuine desire.

And it was gone right the next second.

Before you knew it, Sylus lifted you off his lap. You yelped in surprise, only to sink to your knees, his legs spread widely to comfortably accommodate you between them. "Alright then," Sylus chuckled. "Show me what you got."

Another wave of shameful heat rushed into your head as you watched the cocky bastard wait for you to stick to your words. Excitement and impatience radiated from the way he looked down at you to the tapping of his food next to your thigh. He'd not wait forever for you to act, but he was enjoying your hesitation.

Swallowing hard, your mouth had never felt as dry as it was now. With jittery hands, you reached upwards, seeing the stains you had left on his trousers and feeling the heat underneath your palms. But before you could unzip Sylus's pants, he caught your wrists in his grip, clicking his tongue at you, chastizing.

"I'm sure you know a more creative way to start this."

You were disgusted by the thought, but even a virgin like you could imagine what he wanted. Lifting your butt off the floor, you placed your teeth around the zipper, slowly dragging it down. Sylus chuckled, but to your surprise, when you looked up at him angrily, he let go of your wrists and looked away, hiding his full face from you. Was he ashamed? Mocking you? Or did he enjoy seeing you opening his trousers with your teeth that much?

You used the moment of freedom for your hands to unbutton the pants on top, completely taken aback when without the restraints of underwear, his cock sprung free, surprise and horror overcoming you. "You're not the only one who was anticipating this," Sylus clarified, and although he still hid his face behind his hand, the gleam in his eye was as mischievous as ever.

Bastard, you thought, but a small part of you wondered if he had been walking around in just his pants all day or if he changed out of his underwear before meeting with you. It was a completely scientific question of course! You needed to know how long he anticipated and planned this. If his sudden carnal desire had been a surprise or a long time coming, although you never thought it existed.

"Are you giving up already, Sweetheart?" Sylus tore you out of your thoughts. "Less scowling, more sucking."

For the record, you didn't do as he instructed because he told you to. You did it because you wanted to get it over with. You kept telling yourself this, over and over, even as you brushed your fingertips over his length. But there was one problem. One you couldn't tell him about.

You had no idea what to do.

Of course, the general concept of a blowjob was familiar to even you, but how were you going to pull it off? Was it enough to take it into your mouth? Did you need to kiss it? Would it taste bad? Could you even put your lips around it?

There was no time to panic and let Sylus find out you were an inexperienced virgin with no idea what you were doing. His cock bopped impatiently in front of you, waiting for your caress, and you had to please it regardless of not knowing how.

Reaching up, you wrapped a hand around it, steadying it with your grip. The stiff feeling surrounded by soft skin was almost mesmerizing, leaving you in a moment of awe before you returned to reality. You expected something rougher, more like its owner, but the heat and eagerness spoke of vulnerability more than Sylus's usual domineering ways.

There was a click of his tongue from above, and you knew your time was running out. Giving him a coy glance from below, you leaned forward, steading yourself on Sylus's thighs to kiss the throbbing cock in your hand. You felt his leg tense beneath your palm, then relax, and when he neither mocked nor pushed you away, you concluded you were onto something.

Kissing a trail up the shaft, you smoothed over his cock, taking note of the ridges and veins that seemed to pop out the longer you were giving it attention. Soon, you reached the edge of the tip, the form of his shaft dipping into itself for a moment before forming the bulb on top. It was so fascinating that, for a moment, you forgot the situation you were in, your tongue dipping out to lick along the edge out of curiosity.

Sylus drew in a sharp breath, and you looked up with more inquisitiveness. For the first time, you saw an expression akin to pain on his face. You wondered if you were hurting him somehow before satisfaction hit you. Red was drawn along his cheeks, and you realized it was pleasure and not pain; the firmness of his expression was merely showcasing that he was holding back. How gracious.

Slipping the flat of your tongue over his tip, you soon brushed your lips over it. Cock jerking, the tender flesh jumped against your mouth, smearing a strange-tasting liquid all over it. Precum, you thought to yourself, recognizing that this meant you were doing something right.

It almost got you excited.

You remembered the way Sylus had played with your nipples, the teasing and sucking. The way he forced you to feel pleasure despite not wanting to, and it gave you an idea of how to return the favor. If it worked on you, it might just work on him the same way! Sure, he wanted this, but you'd not make it easy on him!

Wrapping your mouth around the tip, you began to suck gently, drawing your lips lightly back and forth and wetting the top to make it more smooth. Sylus groaned, his right hand coming down to cup yours on top of his thigh, pressing it into the muscles there.

"That's it, Kitten," he mumbled, and you felt his hand brush up your neck and into your hair. Immediately, you drew back, staring at him with your mouth forced shut. His cock bopped in complaint, and Sylus's expression hardened, but you challenged him with your glare.

"No forcing it," you established, getting great satisfaction from his annoyance. "You will let me do it."

"Fine," he spat out. "Hope you got a bit more than that, though. Otherwise, we'll be here forever, Sweetheart."

"Fuck you," you bit back, not waiting for him to respond before putting your lips back around his cock. This time, you went deeper, his tip brushing your teeth as you weren't used to his size yet. His hand sunk back to the nape of your neck, playing with a few strands of hair there. You could feel him testing out the boundaries of your rules, applying pressure softly ever so often. Still, after you drew back one more time, he gave up, the warmth of his palm remaining unmoving at the back of your head.

"No fun," he complained, but his words had no bite. They were followed by a soft groan, Sylus's head rolling to the side as he watched you work your way down his shaft. It was more strain than you expected, his cock seemingly never-ending, even when you forced it deeper than anything ever before. You'd not accept defeat, not let him win this round, especially after coming this far!

But it was nasty. Drool dripped down your chin, and your sucking became more and more sloppy. You barely had enough strength or training with your tongue to keep up an even pace, and your desperation to get this over with made everything quite boring, evident by Sylus not reacting like you thought he would while you worked your mouth over his cock.

"Is this your first time?" he finally asked, and you grimaced, mouth full of cock and exposed anger burning in your eyes.

Sylus smirked, and you knew that he knew.

"Did you really think you could hide the fact from me that you have no idea what you're doing? Come let me help."

Without waiting for your response, he pressed your head forward, tears shooting to your eyes as the newly reached deepness pried your jaw open. "Now, use your tongue and lick upwards all the way. Slowly."

You hated this! You hated him! You hated this man so much!

"That's it, Kitten."

Pulling you back by the roots of your hair, the strain disappeared, but all the drool and fluids pooled inside your mouth, making you cough. Sylus showed you no mercy, even after seeing you struggle to keep yourself together.

"Now the tip again, just like the beginning. You need to alternate sometimes."

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth again, willing the pain away as you began to suck and lick at his tip. The next time Sylus pushed you forward, you braced yourself, although he didn't go as deep, instead bopping your head back and forth. As much as you hated following his instructions, you did the same with your tongue as when he forced you to take it in completely, moving the muscle along the sides while Sylus directed your head.

This time, he let out a loud, content sigh, his head falling back. His pressure never stopped, though, sometimes slamming you forward to dangerous depths again, other times letting you rest at his tip. There was a steady increase in speed, and you felt the control slip from you pitifully as he worked you up and down his shaft as he pleased. Were you just a sex toy to him? That's what you wondered as the first tears fell, your reflection so pitiful in Sylus's eyes.

Although, he seemed ecstatic for some reason.

His nails dug into your hand still on his thigh as he pushed you steadily deeper with every thrust of his head. Soon, you felt the tickle of the fabric of his pants against your nose, his cock taking up all the space in your mouth as it throbbed. You, too, dug your nails into his thigh as you heard Sylus breathe heavily, knowing all too well what was going to happen now.

You couldn't believe he'd be so barbaric, knowing it was your first time, as to force you to take all of his dick inside as he came. But with a slight thrust of his hip and his hand pressing down at the same time, you were caught with his cock throat-deep as hot splurts of semen sprayed everywhere. Sylus grunted as he came, and you couldn't help but splutter, gagging on the length shoved down your throat, and almost fainted from the lack of air as he waited until the very last drop of his cum to be emptied inside of you.

If not for his cock stuffing your mouth, you might have thrown up from disgust.

He was breathing heavily while your lungs barely shuddered. As if he regained clarity, Sylus suddenly pulled you off him, and his cum spilled from your lips together with his cock. Tears, semen, and drool all dripped from your pitiful face, and you two stared at each other, both a little less lucid than before.

The hand at the back of your neck slipped forward, thumb grazing over the side of your mouth before he slipped it inside. A grin spread over his lips; this time, he looked nothing short of insane from the satisfaction as he pushed the fluids back into your mouth, seeing the remnants of the havoc he wrecked. But then his expression grew soft, and you hated to admit it, but this was probably the gentlest look he had ever given you.

"Good job, Darling."

You choked as you held back a sob. The situation was so maddening it was almost funny. Just seconds ago, it felt like he'd kill you with his dick, and now he was praising you, looking at you as if you were the greatest treasure in this world.

But you didn't have the time to lament. Not even a moment later, you were pulled from the ground, set down pussy to cock on his lap, feeling the sticky heat from his crotch matching your own. You hadn't even noticed your own arousal, the way your body found appropriate to act. It only shamed you more.

"You were so pretty down there, doing amazing, Darling."

Next thing you knew, he had toppled you over and laid you down on the couch beside him while your eyes widened. You snapped your legs shut immediately, although his hands roaming downwards snaked their way between them. Looking at you, unblinking, a victorious smile played along Sylus's lips before he effortlessly pried your legs apart, not even breaking a sweat.

"We said only sucking off!" you mewled, part scared, part frustrated. What else did you need to do to make him stop? Why was he doing all of this? Why did it have to be you?

Resting his lips on your thigh, Sylus kissed it briefly, eyes closed, appearing almost reverent as he peppered some more kisses.

"You said that," he finally muttered against your skin, and all the hope to make him see reason in the end was lost with just a few words. "I am going to return the favor now. Can't let anyone think I'd not take good care of my Darling."

"You are so mean," you whispered, tears now falling freely. You didn't care anymore if he saw them. If they could soften his heart—good! If not, it didn't matter anymore. He was going to do what he wanted anyway; there was nothing you could do but to let him.

"Sure, I can be mean," Sylus chuckled, but his expression darkened. It was unlike his usual cockiness, and it infuriated you. How dare he feel upset about your comment! How dare he wallow in your misery! Your pain wasn't his to share! He didn't get to feel bad from seeing you hurt by the actions he inflicted!

So why did he look like you were the one hurting him?

"After all..." he mumbled, leaning forward until his face hovered over yours. For a moment, he simply stared at you, and you wondered what he could find in your terrified gaze. How far he could really look into your soul and if that would deter him or if he'd still choose to ignore your feelings in all of this like he had ever since he locked you up.

"You made me the bad guy, Darling."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Passion for Fashion Part 2

Danny glances around the room, initially supposed to be the living room, but Dan had quickly turned it into a studio. He had fabrics stacked everywhere, random clothes designs pinned to the walls, and various-sized mannequins scattered about with half-finished projects.

"It looks like Joann Craft's store exploded in here" he grumbles side-stepping into a half-finished gown dress and ducking under rows of fabric swatches that Dan just has to hang across the whole house by color because they help him visualize.

Or some nonsense like that.

Frankly, Danny was starting to suspect Dan had developed a new ghost Obsession now that grief no longer blinded him, and he knew Clockwork made it deliberately fashion design.

He is a bit unsettled that Dan's tunnel vision mirrors his parent's obsession with ghost hunting. Is it a ghost Obsession thing or a Fenton thing? Even Jazz can't get sucked into her physiology studies, so he had to remind her to sleep and eat. Eventually, Danny will find his own tunnel vision obsession. He just knows it.

Ducking two more times to avoid the shades of blue and green, Danny follows the barely visible pathway to where Dan is likely working on the first suit for the competition's first catwalk.

The first round of the competition was a mere selection round, where contestants were all brought into a large room and given a sketchbook, pencils, colors pencils, and reference books. After the surprise judge gave them the theme of household pets, they were to design two male and female outfits within an hour. Dan had entered the testing room like a man sent to the front lines.

Danny hadn't been needed for that round, so he explored Gotham, stopping to eat the famous Batburger. The food was far tastier than Nasty Burger, and he felt like he was betraying his city by how much he savored the Joker fries.

He did notice the way everyone was staring at him, much to his shame, just as he was licking his fingers clean. He scrambled to leave as a few teens whispered, gesturing to him.

He had been in Casper High to know that usually meant insults, so when a pretty blond girl stood up and started for him, he made haste to get out of there as quickly as possible.

He met up with Dan- with a carryout bag because he wasn't a monster- and found the other had blown the competition out of the water. His designs were first in the selection round, and Dan's head got three sizes bigger that day.

It's strange how used to living here he's gotten. It's been a month and a half, and yes, people still stare at him a lot, but it's not like Danny isn't used to being called a freak, so he ignores them all. Dan tried to stay inside the house as much as possible, rarely leaving his fabrics, but Danny felt restless being indoors all the time.

Amity Park is a small city, with most of it being open space and grass he felt strange being surrounded by a loud, crowded city like Gotham. He often wandered about trying to find something new and fun, though that was hard to do once the sun started setting.

He found being outside at night was a terrible idea the first time a trio of men attempted to shove him into a van.

Thankfully, Danny had been bored enough he recreated some of his parents' gadgets, and the three men had been stunned by his Fenton Tazzer wristband before they had opened the van door. Then there was that time a group of toddlers tried to mug him. He had been trying to find a park or something when seven kids- couldn't be older than twelve- all creeped out of the shadows holding knives and bats and demanded he gave them his wallet.

Danny hadn't meant to, but it was so bizarre he had bursted out laughing. He was so used to ghosts that the sight of little kids trying to be threatening was so historical that he couldn't stop laughing. He also forgot to breathe for a second since coming to this world. His body needed less sleep, less food, and got less tired, which was a plus on their wallets.

Danny laughed so hard he fell to his knees, shaking with jest.

The kids scattered at once, a few shouting, "Joker venom!" he was left chuckling to himself. After that, he got up and went home, the occasional snicker slipping from his lips.

Dan had thought it was hilarious, too.

Despite the time they have been here and Danny's many outings, they haven't really interacted with anyone else. Danny had never been one to have positive memories with socializing, and Dan frankly disliked humans too much to want to be around them.

With nothing to do but wander during the day and practice his model walk, Danny quickly got into the habit of tinkering with various machinery. At first, he needed to rebuild his parent's weapons and ghost gear- something he had been able to do since he was seven- then he shifted to building whatever popped into his head.

From robotic prosthetics to a TV projector, Danny filled the hours with some eclectic in his hands. Otherwise, he looked around Gotham and took pictures of the architect because it was Sam's entire aesthetic. How could he not try to capture this place for her?

Dan had been researching through the house internet- thank the ancients the house came with the service- and found various styles he liked experimenting with. Due to his ghost abilities, he worked faster than the sewing machines and was dishing out whole outfits in matters of days instead of the months they usually take.

He has even been walking around in whatever Dan chose to make for him since he thought it would get him used to being seen in something not his usual style. He can't afford to lose the fashion show simply because he got awkward. That would ruin his plans to help Batman and get home.

His wardrobe now varied from what Dan called "eboy", "skater" "K-pop" "casual chic" "haute" and "streetwear". Personally, Danny preferred the streetwear since it was more often than not baggy.

He had a lot of people staring at him when he walked around in Dan's clothes. Danny hopes he doesn't look as dumb as he feels.

"Danny, come try this on!" Dan shouts, snapping Danny out of his thoughts. He gestured to a black and navy blue three-piece suit that took Danny's breath away.

"Wow, Dan, it's gorgeous."

"Duh, I made it brat." He gestures to the vest, which Danny can see painfully embroidered swirls of black, purple, and a few white strips. It did not take him long to recognize the Magellanic cloud resting on the right side while the left is a mirror design in black, carefully blending into the blue. The pants, jacket, and shoes were a nearly jet-black cloth that somehow looked like a liquid even when standing still, but what tied it all together was the black cape draping over the right shoulder. It was pinned in place by a metal piece shaped like a Sirius Star. "The first round is space theme, and lucky for us, I was obsessed with NASA as a kid."

"No, but honestly, can I keep this afterward?" Danny asks, reaching out to rub his hands on the fabric. "Wow this is soft"

"It's satin, of course; it's soft," Dan snorts. "And sure, if we win, it's yours. I don't care what happens to the clothes after I make them."

"How long did this take you to make?" Danny asks, turning it around and sporting more accurately placed constellations of the satellite galaxy. It was like a picture made of fabric, curling from the right to the back of the vest. He'll have to take the jacket off at some point to show that part off.

"Three days. Without sleep."

"That's insane Dan"

"No, you know what's insane? This place has different beauty standards. It's all about the goth and emo kids here. A few Victorian lads, too. Or frankly, a straight-up twink is hot."

"What?" Danny's brain buffers "That can't be right. I was bullied and so were my friends for looking like that."

"Trust me, the ideal body kept coming up as I researched fashion trends and ideas. Nerds are in here. "

"W-what do I do with knowledge?"

Dan's eyes flashed a dangerous green. "You put it to use on the walkway. This suit is designed to show you off, and the best part? It's your natural body; no need to highlight beefed-up muscles or a wide chest like Dash."

"Oh my ancients....Am I hotter than Dash? Then the top A-lister?"

Dan grins. "We got this competition in the bag."

Across Gotham, Tim is scrolling through GothamLive- the favorite plate form of all Gotham, beating even Twitter- and he's surprised to see it covered by the target of their latest mission. He's back at the cave running coms since he got dosed in fear toxin on the last big fight. It was not too bad but Bruce didn't want him doing anything too adrenaline-inducing for a least a month.

He would argue, but even he knew his hands still sometimes shook when he trained. So he was on comm duty listening in to all his family as they moved about Gotham.

It was a quiet night with only three muggings and one car thief so far, but Bruce wanted everyone connected just in case.

Tim figured he could check in on the meta twins and found Danny everywhere on Gotham's online platform.

People have been spotting him strut around Gotham looking drop-dead gorgeous, and everyone near their age group who was attracted to men was losing their minds over Danny Fenton.

Tim found a few of him in skater clothes and felt his face get slightly warmer. Okay, they are right. Danny certainly paints a pretty picture, but that's worrying.

A pretty meta? He could be snatched up by the worst of Gotham soon.

Tim will have to get close to keep an eye on him. You know, for the target's safety.

Dan is his identical twin, which means there are two beautiful boys out there. Tim thinks, checking over the twin's house location. It's thankfully on the outskirts of Gotham, where it's not exactly safe, but it sure as hell isn't Crime Alley. They should be okay as long as no one finds their home.

He choked on his coffee when a picture of Danny dressed like a K-pop star casually lodging on a chair drinking a coffee appears on his dash. Yeah, he can see how the guy ended up in modeling if he could make poses like that naturally.

"Red Robbin to everyone, we may want to keep an eye on the Fenton's. Don't want them taken by traffickers."

"Danny Fenton already fought off a kidnapping:" Jason responds in seconds with a slight sneer. His elder brother has always hated traffickers and rapists the most. " Some idiots tried to escape me by going into the Outskirts and saw Danny. They took their chance only to be taken out by the guy's tazer disguised as a bracelet."

He sends the family a photo of the incident, and Danny's unimpressed look at the three screaming men makes Tim's lips twitch. Maybe Gotham wasn't so different from Santa Prisca. Only someone used to danger so often found would be kidnapers annoying, and that island wasn't exactly the safest place to be.

Their mother died to get them out, after all.

"That's not all. He's also fought off three different gangs, none of the big players but enough to raise some brows," Babs adds, displaying a gang of Crime Alley kids running from a laughing Danny, a group of men and women wearing the red scorpion marks running from a laughing Danny and a second group of kids- slightly older but not older than Danny- all backing away from the ice Danny had encased himself in. "The first two he tricked into thinking Joker was about, and the last one he just froze himself until they got tired of shooting and went away."

"What about the other one?" Bruce asks.

"He doesn't leave the house, but he's been very active online. Mostly, he's looking up fashion articles or trends. Recently, his search is nothing but "What are twinks, and why are they hot?". I can't tell if that's a culture difference or if Dan is just weird."

"They are not trained," Damian says, an undertone of curiosity in his voice. "But they can defend themselves well and truly know their craft. Dan's designs for my animal theme challenge were exquisite. I will be commissioning the black German Shepherd suit he made. Ace and I will look divine at the next gala."

"I kind of want the bird dress," Steph cuts in with a chirp. "I know it's not purple, but it looked cool in concept. What bird breed did he pick for it?"

"It was the Lovebird," Damian answers. "Somehow his design was both elegant and accurate without seemingly childish as the bird it was based on."

Tim wonders if Damian may start to develop an interest in fashion or if he just appreciates drawings as an artist. "So should we be worried?"

"No. Fenton has unwillingly gathered too much attention online. People will notice if he disappears. Traffickers don't go for people that are easy to recognize." Jason sighs. "For now, they're safe, but not if Danny keeps wandering around like an easy target in those tailor outfits. He looks rich, even if it's only lower first class. That will attract a lot more muggings."

"Someone will have to get close to them-"

"I can do it!" Tim shouts, cutting off Bruce, then shrinks into his chair in mortification as the family chat dies. Trying to sound less eager, he hastily adds, "You know, since I'm benched. Light work to befriend the Fentons."

"Smooth Tim." Cass laughs over the coms with his other siblings snickering in the background, and sinks into his chair.

After a moment, Bruce sighs, "Alright, Tim, you can befriend one of them, but not until your turn to judge goes by. I don't want people claiming a conflict of interest there."

Hell yeah! Tim got the job!

"Of course, Bruce."

"And no flirting."

"Spoilsport"

[spaceshipellie]

stacy’s mom

dina x masc!reader

part one (two)

summary: you want to fuck your friend’s mom and that’s it

warnings: MILF DINA HELLO, smut with friend’s mum, smut with plot, age gap (reader is early 20s and dina is in her 40s), reader is such a simp, eating out and fingering (d receiving), 18+ mdni

author’s note: i wanted to to try and write something with a more masc reader too and this seemed fitting so hope this doesn’t flop

˚ · • . ° .

it was summer and you were sitting in your friend stacy’s garden, drinking beer, listening to music, and laughing about dumb memories from the first year of college.

“i was so intimidated by you,” she blushed.

“nah, really?” you scoffed.

“yeah, you were this cool, mysterious skater girl.”

“oh i’m not cool and mysterious anymore?”

“well,” stacy laughed, “you are cool but not mysterious.”

she slapped the front of your baseball cap before ripping it off and putting it on herself.

“ow, hey,” you laughed.

“hi girls!” a sweet, intoxicating voice sounded from over by the conservatory door. your head snapped up. stacy’s mom. god, she was hot. your stomach flipped every time you saw her.

“hi mom.”

“hi dina.”

you allowed yourself a second to quickly look her over. she was wearing denim shorts and a tank top with no bra, holding a basket of laundry on her hip. you knew it was really wrong but there was something about her you couldn’t get out of your head. maybe it was the way her hips filled out her jeans, or the way her hair flowed over her shoulder, or the way her budded nipples poked through the fabric of her top. all you knew was that you could probably fuck her better than her boring ex husband. you watched as she went back inside, bending over to pick up a sock she dropped.

“are you listening to me?”

“sorry what?” your head snapped to stacy.

“you’re so weird,” she giggled, “anyway i was saying we should try that new milkshake place that opened up in the mall.”

“oh yeah, yeah sounds good,” your voice totally distracted.

˚ · • . ° .

stacy had dragged you around so many shops in the mall, making you watch as she gave little catwalks in the changing rooms. eventually you’d got the milkshakes and were now back at her house in the kitchen where dina was preparing dinner.

“hope you’re hungry,” she smiled at you.

you licked a bit of milkshake off your finger that had dripped down the glass, looking at her. “starved.”

“good, well dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes. seeing as it’s still so hot out i thought we’d eat outside by the pool?”

“okay sounds good, we’ll be down then!” stacy chirped, grabbing your arm to pull you upstairs. your eyes, still looking at dina, lagged as you looked away. it sounds great, you thought. you hoped that by the pool also meant going in the pool.

half an hour later, dina called up the stairs that dinner was ready. her hand brushed yours as she handed you a plate and you all sat around the patio table to eat. you could see dina had a bikini top on under her top now.

“how’s college going?” she asked you both.

“not bad, still think mrs clark hates me,” stacy said, shovelling food in her mouth.

“probably because you always skip her class,” you mumbled, playfully nudging stacy’s arm. she laughed and shushed you.

“what about you?” dina said, looking straight at you.

“it’s good, mrs clark loves me,” you joked. she laughed and it made your cheeks flush, a small smirk on your face. fucking hell this was getting too much.

after you were done eating, stacy jumped up to clear the table and take the plates indoors. you shifted in your seat having been left alone with dina. the silence was burning. you cleared your throat, running your hands down your jean covered thighs.

“you know last time i was here you hadn’t finished the pool yet, looks nice.”

“oh of course! well, you guys should go in.”

you hummed in response. you didn’t have any swimming stuff with you and definitely didn’t want to borrow any of stacy’s bikinis. you would have to go in in your boxers and sport bra, which on this occasion wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“yeah sure.”

“i might join you,” dina said, loosely tying her hair in a bun, your eyes snuck a glance at how her fingers ran through her dark hair, “oh as long as you don’t mind me crashing your time with stacy,” she laughed.

“not at all,” you grinned at her. crash all you want, you thought. stacy returned, funnily enough with a bikini on.

“you coming in? i brought a bikini down for you to borrow but figured you probably don’t want it.”

“and you’d be right.” you pulled your t-shirt off over your head.

“i didn’t realise you had so many tattoos,” dina mused, seeming to admire the ink that adorned your arms and torso. you ran your hand over your stomach, instinctively looking over your tattoos yourself.

“they look great, i love them.” she was killing you.

“thanks.”

stacy was already in the pool when you started pulling your jeans off. you felt very exposed now just in your boxers but also thought fuck it and tried to keep your cool.

“jump in,” stacy giggled.

you took a couple steps back so you could run and cannonball into the pool, completely splashing stacy. when you resurfaced you rubbed the water from your eyes and shook your head. both dina and stacy were looking at you.

“you coming in then?” you nodded at dina.

she stood up and started peeling her tank top off, revealing a black string bikini. jesus. if that was bad, watching her undo the button and zipper on her denim shorts, and shimmying her hips out of them was utter torture. you knew it was wrong to stare, especially when her daughter, your friend, was right there but you couldn’t help it. you soaked in the way every inch of her body submerged into the water as she walked in. you adverted your eyes after realising you’d just been staring for ages. hopefully that sly smile on her face wasn’t because she had noticed.

you all floated around for a while, talking, trying stupid tricks. well, you doing stupid tricks to try and be impressive. it was getting late but as it was summer it was still light and warm out.

“this has been fun, but i’m off to bed,” dina said climbing out of the pool. you watched the way the water dripped off of her ass as she walked up the steps, grabbing a towel to wrap round herself.

“okay, night mom.”

“night,” you said.

“we should probably get out too,” stacy suggested and you agreed.

you were now lying on the pull out bed in stacy’s room in the dark, wearing loose sweatpant shorts and a baggy t-shirt. you couldn’t really sleep and stacy was long gone by now so you decided to get up and grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

“oh, sorry,” you mumbled upon seeing dina leaning against the counter by the sink, sipping on a mug of tea. she waved her hand as if to say carry on so you grabbed a glass and tried to ignore how close you were to her whilst you filled it up at the tap.

“can’t sleep?” she asked.

“no really, i’m basically nocturnal,” you laughed nervously. she laughed too. man, she had a pretty laugh.

“me too, i love staying up late when time allows.”

you leaned on the other counter and took a sip, watching the way she hugged the mug.

“it’s a lot more peaceful.”

“it is,” you agreed.

“like nobody knows what you’re doing.” was she…? she couldn’t be… but you could have sworn you saw her look you up and down when she said that.

“not a single clue.” you finished the water and moved closer to her, purposely leaning in slightly to place the glass by the sink behind her.

“well, g’night,” you said, your voice low.

as you turned you suddenly felt her hand grab yours so you spun around to look at her. her facial expression seemed to be a mix of wanting and contemplation. you decided to focus on the former. her hand didn’t leave yours for a moment before she realised and quickly pulled it back but she didn’t make any attempt to leave.

being taller than her, you looked down at her whilst you moved closer. you looked down and slowly reached for her hand again, testing to see how she’d react. she let you. you smirked to yourself before looking into her eyes, then her lips, then her eyes. fuck it. you leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips. when you pulled away, your mouth hovering over hers she surprised you by grabbing your face and slamming your lips together again. your hands flew to her waist as you pinned her against the counter.

she moaned into the kiss and you took the opportunity to move your tongue against hers. it was hot and you couldn’t believe you were doing this right now. your arms wrapped around her waist and you let your hand rest half way on her ass. her hands travelled down to the hem of your t-shirt and flustered around with the amount of fabric before she managed to slip one underneath and brush your skin. oh, okay. if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get, you thought.

you pulled her tighter to your body as you moved the two of you around so that she was now pressed against a different counter. one she could sit on if necessary. she groaned as her back hit it. you started to move your kisses down to her neck.

“stacy can never know about this,” she whined breathlessly.

“mom’s the word.”

“that’s not funny,” she laughed.

“it’s pretty funny.”

your lips didn’t let up on her neck, now making their way back up to hers. you reached your hands down to her thighs and indicated for her to hop up onto the counter. you now stood between her legs, heads now the same height near enough and your hands glided up her thighs to her hips. hers became tangled in your hair as you started kissing down her body and getting onto your knees. you couldn’t believe your fucking luck right now.

you left small kisses on her inner thigh, your fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. you were half expecting her to tell you to stop, realising the situation, but her fingers only tightened themselves in your hair pushing you further. you pulled back and looked up at her whilst you peeled her shorts off, her lifting her ass to help you.

you pushed her legs further apart, exposing her glistening pussy. you could hear little whispered curses falling from her lips in anticipation.

you grinned to yourself, feeling smug, and looked up at her before flicking your tongue lightly over her clit. she flinched at the sensitivity. you gave her clit a few flicks before dragging your tongue up the length of her cunt, letting it slip between her folds.

“oh shit,” she whimpered.

you buried your face, laying your tongue flat against her, almost letting her grind herself onto you. you could taste how more slick was seeping out of her hole so you moved your fingers to tease at it.

“please,” she begged.

not wanting to push your luck too much you curled a finger inside her, letting her get used to it before slipping a second in. she let out a squeak and you laughed lightly before shushing her. the vibrations of your laugh sent a shock through her body. you worked your fingers in and out, relishing in the wet sounds it was making. your tongue kept flicking her clit until you could feel her clenching around your fingers and her legs fought to stay open.

“i’m gonna…”

“come for me.”

you fucked her through her orgasm and when her hand went limp in your hair and instead brushed it away from your face you pulled your fingers out and stood up. you placed your hands flat on the counter either side of her and leaned in, making her taste herself on your tongue. you grabbed her shorts beside you and pulled away from the kiss to help her put them back on and she hopped off the counter, still trapped by your frame.

“i should probably go to bed now,” she murmured.

“okay.”

she didn’t move still. her hands brushed your arms that hung at your sides. she leant up for another kiss before eventually lighting pushing you so she could get passed and head for the stairs. she stopped and turned, giving you a ‘i can’t believe that just happened’ smile and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“right, i really am going to bed.”

you took a sip of your previously abandoned water and smirked at her, watching her disappear up the stairs.

the next morning you were grabbing your things to leave, downing the last mouthful of orange juice.

“we still good for the movies next week?” stacy asked.

“yeah, can’t wait.” you gave her a quick side hug.

“was good to see you,” dina smiled knowingly at you.

“thanks for dinner,” you said, then hugging her and mumbling in her ear, “and dessert.” she subtly slapped your arm. stacy seemed oblivious.

“right, bye.” you threw your backpack over one shoulder and left with a shit-eating grin on your face.

[kezzanza]

ME, YOU & HENNESSY.

Pairing: Jude x Fem ! Reader Tags: Drunk Sex, One Night Stand Word Count: 5.4k Content Warning: Drunk Sex, Smut, 18+ Jude is the perfect guy to make you forget about your cheating ex.

The black dress you wear is revealing. Its silky fabric clings to every curve on your body in a way that's both exciting and unsettling. No part of your body is left to the imagination.

You move through the entryway and feel the weight of curious eyes drifting toward you, drawn in by the boldness of your outfit. It's been a while since you've dressed up like this.

Two weeks ago, you left a year-long relationship. One where you never got to wear what you wanted without your ex complaining. You more than deserved the appreciative eyes on your figure. It felt good to make yourself look pretty and not have your insecure ex in your ear whining about it.

Inside the villa, the energy is vibrant and lively. A mix of music, laughter, and chatter fills the air. The vibrant purple lighting on the walls makes the modern, all-white interior feel electric. You look around the room, the strangers that look back at you remind you that you have no idea who is hosting the party.

This isn't your usual scene—more uptown and expensive than you're used to. It's Lily, your best friend, that showed up at your place tonight with an invitation. She took one look at you sprawled on the couch in your pajamas and forced you to get ready. But after spending this month eating ice cream and watching comfort shows after being broken up with, it didn't take much convincing—you knew you needed to have some fun.

You're wearing the outfit you've been saving for a special occasion. Lily is clear about her intentions: she wants you to have fun and get laid. You couldn't help but agree with her.

She pulls you along as she navigates the crowd in search of the bar. Through the bodies, you catch a glimpse of the backyard. Large windows and open sliding doors blur the boundaries between indoors and out. People spill onto the grass and into the evening air. If there's a pool out there, you'd swear you're in Ibiza rather than Birmingham.

It's obvious as you look around the room that the guests are both well-dressed and well-off. You often wondered how rich people partied. Now you have your answer: just like everyone else, except they're grinding on each other in thousand-dollar outfits.

"Stop thinking so much," Lily says. You hadn't even realized she's looking at you. Too lost in thought for it to register. "What you need is shots," she concludes, flashing a smile at you.

You roll your eyes playfully. No matter the problem, her go-to solution always seems to be alcohol. Lily tells you that you need a drink to forget everything about your ex and let loose. You can barely hear her over the music—loud and heavy with a bass you can feel in your chest. But you know she's right, so you let her pull you to the bar.

There's a bartender expertly mixing drinks. An impressive array of liquor is lined up against the wall behind him. Rich people's parties really are different. Every detail, from the selection of spirits to the polished bar setup, speaks of an attention to detail you haven't quite experienced before. You're not surprised to see names of liquor you can't even pronounce.

Lily positions herself confidently in front of the bartender, half ordering and half flirting to get your drinks. Whenever you're with her, you don't need to speak much, which is fortunate because you're not good at sweet talking. You always had too much bite in your words.

The bartender pours two shots of a clear liquid. Lily hands you yours with a grin. You both clink your glasses together before downing the shots. The potent burn of the alcohol sears a trail down your throat. Despite its likely high price, the sharp taste is undeniable. The second round of shots is just as horrible, making you scrunch up your face as it burns down your throat.

"You're too beautiful to be pulling faces like that," a deep voice says from your left.

You turn, prepared to dismiss whoever's intruding with little patience for nonsense. But there, standing before you, is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He's clad in a crisp white short-sleeve button-up that clings to his broad shoulders and powerful arms. A few buttons are left undone to reveal a sculpted chest beneath. In black jeans that accentuate his long, strong legs, he's a vision of effortless allure.

As you look back at his face, it feels like the world goes silent, leaving just you and him in a private moment. It's embarrassing how attracted you are to him. The irritation you felt at his comment is helplessly replaced by an urge to hear him call you beautiful once more.

His presence is practically magnetic.

Men that make you feel like this are dangerous. You know you shouldn't be so quick to be swayed by him. And just by looking at him, you can tell he's a player, someone stringing along multiple women. You probably wouldn't even have his attention if you weren't dressed as sexy as you are now. It would be a bad idea to get involved with him.

But you've just come out of a rough breakup. One that hit you hard when you realized you had been left because your ex had cheated and chosen his side thing. This stranger seems like he'd make you forget about your ex. That's exactly what you need for the night.

"Jude," he says, offering his name with a knowing smile when it becomes clear that you're curious to know more about him. "But you probably already knew that."

He looks familiar even though you can't quite place his face to a name. Maybe he's a celebrity you've seen on the rare occasions you dip into social media. With his striking looks, he could easily be a famous internet personality. But you never really kept up with who or what was popular, so it's no surprise you don't know him nor his name.

"I'm not one of your fangirls, so no, I didn't know your name," you snap, eyeing him coolly. "Try impressing me with more than just your ego."

He regards you with a hint of disbelief, as if struggling to grasp that someone wouldn't know who he is. His cocky assumption that everyone recognizes him is both amusing and exactly the kind of audacity you need tonight.

"You want me to impress you? That's a first," Jude says with a smirk. "But if I'm making an exception, I need your name—so I know what to sign on the autograph you'll inevitably ask for."

You roll your eyes, but you're undeniably fascinated. "I'll tell you my name when I think you deserve it," you reply eventually, a playful glint in your eye. "But I don't mind dancing with you."

Sweet nothings and surface-level compliments quickly lose their charm for someone with a personality like yours. What you need is someone with a way with words. Someone who can make your pulse race and your core tighten with just a few carefully chosen sentences—Jude seems to be that person.

As you study his face, you're caught between hesitation and intrigue. The attention he's giving you feels different from what you usually get from other guys. It sparks something within you that's impossible to ignore. It doesn't hurt that every time you look at him, you feel a rush of desire.

Jude looks down at you, his gaze flickering with curiosity. It's as if he's trying to piece together the enigma that you are. You revel in this moment—loving the feeling of making him work for a chance with you.

With a flutter of anticipation, you offer your manicured hand. He grasps it confidently and guides you through the crowd. As you watch the muscles of his back flex with each step, you can't help but think this: tonight is going to be unforgettable.

Before you disappear into the sea of bodies, you glance back at Lily, managing to catch her eye as her face lights up with excitement. She mouths the words have fun with an animated enthusiasm that hints at something more. You can't help but wonder if Jude is a celebrity that Lily knows well. Her reaction suggests there's more to his presence than meets the eye.

You watch for a second as a tall, impeccably dressed man approaches Lily. He embodies the refined elegance of someone accustomed to a life of luxury. His groomed beard adds a rugged charm to an otherwise polished appearance. He looks a few years older, which was exactly Lily's type. You already can't wait for the stories you will both share tomorrow.

Turning your head back forward, you notice as the crowd's gaze subtly shifts toward you. 

Their eyes are bright with curiosity and a hint of intrigue as they follow your movement through the throng of bodies. A few onlookers exchange whispers, their heads tilted slightly as they try to piece together the scene unfolding before them. The murmurs and sidelong glances create a ripple of speculation and fascination.

You and Jude become the center of a quiet, yet palpable, spectacle. Despite the curious stares and whispered speculation surrounding you, your attention remains fixed on Jude. The peripheral buzz of the crowd fades into insignificance as you focus on his wide back and broad shoulders.

Jude stops in a pocket of space that isn't as crowded, turning around to face you. His hands find your hips and pull you close. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of desire lighting up his features. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under your fingertips. You can feel the muscles shifting beneath your fingers with every movement he makes.

The song playing is slow and sensual, with a sultry melody that wraps you in its embrace. Its rhythm pulses through the room, creating an irresistible urge for bodies to press together and move in sync. The rhythm of the music merges with the pounding of your heart, making it hard to distinguish one from the other.

"You're stunning," Jude compliments with a husky voice as he looks appreciatively down at you.

"How many girls have you said that to tonight?" you reply nonchalantly.

His lips curve into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Stop fighting this and dance with me," he says with a seductive whisper.

Without waiting for a response, he begins to move. Guiding your body in sync with his to the rhythm of the music. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder so you press yourself closer to him. Feeling the firmness of his chest against your softer curves.

The strength in his arms as they hold you securely stirs your desire. Each subtle movement, each brush of skin against skin—it heightens the connection between you. There are shivers of excitement coursing through your body. Jude's fingers tighten a fraction around your waist, pulling you even closer still. You can feel the power in his grip and it lights a fire inside you.

"Fuck," he groans in your ear, his voice thick with want.

You wonder why, but then you feel it—his hard length pressing against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

"You already want me that badly?" you ask, your voice sharp and teasing.

Despite the challenge in your tone, your body leans into him, clearly contradicting your words. Your hips grind against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The heat between you grows palpable—a tangible force that threatens to consume you both. His hands move from your hips to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You could feel every inch of him now. The hefty size of his bulge was the unmistakable evidence of his desire for you. The thought of exploring this further, of letting him lead you upstairs and into bed, becomes increasingly enticing with each passing moment.

"I want you so fucking badly," he whispers in your ear, his voice rough with need.

His hands explore your body, tracing your curves with a bold familiarity. One rests at your waist, while the other lingers possessively on the curve of your ass. His body feels like a furnace pressed against you. But it's not the heat that ignites your desire, it's the electrifying knowledge that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You tiptoe and put your lips beside his ear. "So, what are you going to do about it?" you ask, your voice firm and deliberate, cutting through the music.

"I'm going to take us upstairs to my room," he replies in a low, husky voice, "Then, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget my name."

Your heart races as his words hang in the air—the promise in them sending a thrill down your spine. The arousal that hits you is almost strong enough to make you fall into his arms right there, but you can't ignore what he says.

"This is your place?" you ask, your voice edged with skepticism. You pull back slightly, eyes narrowing as you assess him critically.

You scan the opulent surroundings—the sleek modern furniture, the expansive room, the high-end decor. You had pegged him as just another party guest. Now, with the realization sinking in that he could be more than that, you briefly question if you're out of your league with someone of his caliber.

He laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers grip your ass. You lean into his touch as your own hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You really don't know me." He says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm not just any guy attending a party. I'm the host."

As the words sink in, you pause for a moment, letting the revelation register.

"Should I be worried that someone as young as you can afford all this?" you ask, your tone unconvinced. "I'm not going to be kidnapped, am I?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about," he says, "But don't be surprised if you see my face in the newspaper tomorrow." He smirks. "The media always makes me the headline when I throw a party."

The moment stretches, and as you look at him, a powerful urge overrules your rational thoughts. You wanted this, wanted him and tonight, that's all that mattered. The attraction you feel is a craving that eclipses all other considerations.

In a split second, you make up your mind, letting desire take the lead.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss that conveys all your unspoken hunger. As the kiss deepens, Jude's hands roam your body, exploring with a confident touch. His fingers trace your curves. You respond by running your hands over his shoulders. When you finally pull back, your eyes lock onto his with a burning intensity, your gaze filled with a steely determination. The need in your eyes makes it clear that tonight, he is all you want.

"Let's go upstairs," you say, your voice low and purposeful.

Jude's hand is firm around yours as he guides you across the room, effortlessly parting the sea of bodies. Each step up the staircase feels heavy, the murmurs and curious glances of the crowd providing a backdrop to your ascent.

As you reach the upstairs hallway, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. The corridor—bathed in soft, muted light—is a stark contrast to the vibrant purple glow and energy of the party below. The quiet emptiness of the pathway makes it feel like you're separated from the lively festivities, creating a sense of intimacy and romance.

Suddenly, Jude stops and gently presses you against the nearest wall. Under the soft yellow lights, his features become even more striking. The warm glow highlights the strong lines of his jaw and the depth of his eyes, making him look even more attractive.

His dark eyes trace the contours of your face before he leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's both fierce and tender. Your inhibitions melt away as his hands caress you, lighting a trail of fire wherever they go. You feel a surge of want as his breath grazes your ear.

"I could fuck you right here," he whispers into your ear. His fingers dance along your back, and you realize with a start that his fingers are slowly pulling your zipper down. "Nobody would ever know."

The words are like a match to dry tinder, sparking a fire deep within you. As you consider Jude's idea, a shiver of excitement courses through you. The more you think about it, the clearer it becomes: you're ready to surrender to his every desire.

"You're right," you reply, the sound of your voice thick with lust. "Nobody would know."

You feel the warmth of his fingers against your back. His hand pulls away after a moment, having fully unzipped your dress. The silky cloth remains on your body only through your shoulder straps and the tightness of the fabric.

Without another word, he hoists you up with hands against your ass. He does so with an ease that turns you on intensely as you feel the power in his muscular arms. It's a thrilling sensation, being manhandled by someone so strong and so capable.

He walks with a never-wavering stride, as if you weigh nothing at all. You tighten your grip around his neck, not for support, but out of a deep, insatiable need to keep him close to you.

Jude leads you into a room you assume is his. With one hand holding you up, he flicks on one of the two light switches. Soft, warm light from two side lamps bathes the room in a romantic glow. With that same free hand, he locks the door with a resonant click.

The sudden sound makes your heart skip a beat, highlighting how quiet the room is. The distant bass of the party is almost inaudible now. It's just you and him with the sound of your ragged breaths mingling.

He sets you down onto his plush, black bedspread. The tension is almost unbearable—a delicious cocktail of excitement and passion that leaves you breathless. It feels unreal when you look at his handsome face and realize what the two of you were going to do together.

Jude stands at the end of the bed and looks down at your figure. You sit up on your elbows to watch as his hands—strong and sure—start to unbutton his shirt. One by one, each button reveals more of his chiseled torso to the cool air. He drops the garment to the floor when he finishes, leaving him shirtless.

He climbs onto the bed and then above you, bracketing your body with his arms . "Tell me how badly you want me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper,

"I need you inside me, Jude." The words escape your lips before you can second-guess yourself.

With a swift and decisive motion, Jude pushes you flat onto the bed, following your body down. The mattress sighs beneath the weight of your entangled forms. His lips claim yours in a dominant kiss—the kind that leaves you moaning. Jude's teeth graze your lower lip, demanding a response that you can't help but give. Your hands instinctively grasp at his broad shoulders, feeling his warm skin under your fingers.

You feel like prey caught in the grip of his hungry mouth. But there's an undeniable thrill in the way he handles you, making your heart race with a delicious kind of fear. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing and probing. It's as if he's trying to leave no part of you untouched.

His hand slides gently down your neck then arms, easing the straps of your dress off your shoulders. With unbridled eagerness, he continues to undress you, pulling the tight material down your body. As the fabric falls away, it leaves you in just your lacy black lingerie, leaving you exposed to his dark gaze.

You feel the rush of cool air against your body as he drops your dress onto the floor. He climbs off the bed and walks to his nightstand as you lie on your back, sprawled against the bed. The sound of the drawer opening echoes softly in the quiet room, punctuating the heavy silence. He pulls out a shimmering packet that makes you feel heated when you recognize its contents.

This was really happening, you think with a rush of desire.

As Jude returns to the bed, the tension in the air is palpable. He climbs back on the bed, kneeling over your thighs. When he places the condom into your hand, you wonder if your heart can escape your chest from beating too hard.

"Put it on," Jude commands, his tone demanding and leaving no room for hesitation.

With hands that slightly tremble, you unbutton Jude's tight-fitting jeans, revealing the mouthwatering bulge that lies beneath his black boxer briefs. You trace the outline of his arousal with your fingertips as he groans. The fabric clings to him like a second skin, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from his body.

When you finally pull the waistband down, his huge length springs free, making your mouth water with desire. His cock is thick and veiny—standing proudly at attention as if eager to be released from its confines.

You take a moment to admire the sheer size of him, tracing the path from his tip to the groomed curly hair at the base. The head glistens with a bead of pre-cum, begging for your touch.

You put the condom wrapper on your teeth, tearing the foil and holding the condom in your hand. Gently, you grasp his shaft, the soft skin sliding under your hand as you stroke him from base to tip. He lets out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a hunger that mirrors your own.

Carefully, you unroll the rubber over his erection, watching as it stretches to accommodate his size. The condom snaps into place with a final caress.

Jude's eyes darken with desire as he took in the sight of you. One of his hands trace the delicate lace of your black lingerie. Your breath hitches as Jude reaches behind your back to unclasp your bra with ease.

The cool air of the room brushes against your exposed flesh as he pulls the garment off you. His gentle hands cup your breasts as his thumbs graze the sensitive peaks, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

He settles over you with a single arm supporting him. Leaning in, he captures your mouth in a deep kiss. With warm hands, he fondles one of your breasts, his touch growing more insistent with each passing moment. You moan into his mouth, the sensation of his thumbs circling your nipples almost too much to bear.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with awe. It's as if he couldn't believe his luck in having you here, willing and eager for his touch.

Jude's hand leaves your chest to continue their journey down your body. They trace the curve of your hips before teasing your upper thigh. He lingers there, caressing the sensitive flesh. He smirks when you part your thighs slightly, giving him more space, and he slides a hand between your legs.

You gasp when he touches your damp, wet core through your panties. Then, with a firm grip, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, exposing your most intimate secret.

"So wet for me," he whispers, his voice thick with lust as he tosses the scrap of fabric aside.

You fluster at his words, but the embarrassment quickly disappears as he explores the soft folds of your pussy. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he spreads your lips, revealing the swollen bud of your clit. His thumb circles it lightly, sending waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

He repositions your legs, pressing your knees into your chest. Then, with a suddenness that takes your breath away, he slides two fingers inside you, moving inside you.

As if he's known your body for years, he finds your g-spot. You can't help but let out a loud moan as his fingers curl in that magical way that makes your eyes flutter shut. Your hips tremble, seeking more of his touch, begging for the pleasure that you know he can give you. Instead, he only slides his fingers out of you.

But you knew what was coming next.

Jude's breath brushes against your face as he leans in closer. "Look at me," he says softly.

His eyes search yours when they open, looking for any sign of hesitation. All he finds is a reflection of the desire that mirrored his own. The promise of what was to come ignited a flame that neither of you could resist.

"Jude," you whisper, your voice weak with desire. "I need you."

"What do you need?" he asks, looking down at you with unbridled lust, his voice a seductive promise.

You hesitate for a moment, caught between fear and passion. But then his hand moved to your core, his thumb brushing against the swell of your clit, and all thoughts fled. There was no turning back now.

"You," you moan, your voice barely a whisper. "Everything you can give to me."

"Then let me show you," he says, his voice a command.

Jude aligns his length with your warm, wet entrance. The thick head of his cock presses against it. The initial resistance sends a jolt of sensation through your body, making you gasp. You feel a twinge of apprehension at his size. His gaze locks onto yours, reassuring and filled with passion.

His warm hands caress the back of your knees, urging you to relax as he begins to ease himself inside you. The discomfort is present, but the wetness of your desire provides a slippery path for his invasion.

With a soft moan, you yield to the pressure, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. The pain is sharp but fleeting. The tension slowly morphs into a delicious ache that sends waves of pleasure rippling through your core.

Jude's eyes shutter as he enters you fully. He feels the velvety warmth of your body enveloping him, groaning at the sensation of being sheathed so completely. The way you moaned, your walls quivering around him—it only served to heighten his desire.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers a string of sweet nothings, promising to take you to heights of pleasure you've never known.

With the utmost care, he begins to rock his hips, his movements slow, allowing you to adjust to his size. Each gentle thrust sends sparks of sensation through your body. You respond with soft, breathy moans, but you can't deny you wanted more.

You weren't some delicate virgin—you could take more than this.

You wrap your legs tightly around Jude's waist, urging him to pick up the pace. His eyes, dark with desire, stare into yours as he reads the unspoken challenge in your gaze. You dig your nails into his back.

"Faster," you breath out, your voice a siren's call.

His rhythm quickens, the force of his thrusts increasing as he claims you fully. Hard and rough and fast—each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You bite your bottom lip to hold back a moan, but it escapes anyway, a sweet sound that spurs him on.

Jude leans down and presses his lips to your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. You gasp, your hands finding his hair, gripping it tightly as pleasure washes over you. Every nerve ending in your body was alive, hypersensitive to his touch, his taste, his very presence.

Jude's deep, gravelly voice whispers in your ear, "You feel so good, baby. So tight around me. All mine."

His words are a declaration of ownership that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel his dominance in every inch of his body pressing into yours, in every pulse of his hips that drives you closer to the edge. His grip on your waist tightens. Fingers digging into your flesh as he leaves you no room to escape the overwhelming sensations he's creating.

Your moan helplessly as he leaves a mark on your neck, the sting of pain melding with pleasure as he says, "Take all of me."

The command in his voice is absolute, and you can't help but submit to him completely, your body arching into his touch, eager for more of this delicious torment. You cling to him as your body responds to his every touch.

You arch your back as he continues pounding into you. Jude's rhythm becomes more demanding. His hips piston against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

"You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a dark promise that sends heat pooling in your core.

Your nails drag down his back as you try to hold on, to anchor yourself in the maelstrom of sensation he's creating. Each thrust hits that perfect spot, making your thighs tremble and your eyes flutter shut.

His pace is relentless, pushing you closer and closer. With every movement, you feel yourself losing a little more control. The tension coils tighter, a delicious ache that's almost unbearable. You whimper. Your body begging for the release that you know he's going to give you.

"Jude," you plead against his lips.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he whispers, "Come for me."

Like shattering into a million pieces, your orgasm rips into you, responding to the authority in his voice. You cry out. Your nails dig into his back, leaving half-moons in his skin as you try to hold onto him, to hold onto this moment of pure ecstasy. Jude's eyes flash with triumph as he feels your body convulse around him, your orgasm clenching him tightly.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his own release approaching.

His hips continue to move, each thrust now slower and more deliberate. He draws out the last remnants of your climax until you're limp and boneless under him. He kisses you deeply, his tongue claiming your mouth as surely as his body claims your body, leaving no doubt in your mind who you belong to.

Jude's powerful hips drive into you one last time. With a groan, he stills, his entire body tensing as he follows you over the edge. The rush of his climax fills the condom. He holds you tightly, his breathing harsh and uneven, as he rides out his own wave of pleasure.

He collapses beside you, his breathing ragged, his body slick with sweat. You lie there, your heart still racing, your body tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing. You turn to look at him, basking in the afterglow of your passion. His eyes lock onto yours with a fierce possession.

Jude's hand reaches out, brushing a stray hair from your face. You lean into his touch, craving the contact. You close your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. When you open them again, his face is inches away from yours.

He gently kisses your forehead before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He stands up with the grace of a man who's done this a hundred times before and walks into the bathroom.

You lie there, catching your breath, and waiting for him to come back.

His movements are careful and precise as he wipes away the evidence of your shared passion, tenderly cleaning you up with a soft cloth. His gaze never leaves yours, and you can't help but feel butterflies at the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

Once you're clean, he tucks you into bed, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You're not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff with emotion. "Not out of my sight."

With that, he settles back into the bed, pulling you into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that have finally found their match. And as you lay there, safe in his arms, you know that, for now at least, you have no intention of going anywhere.

[girlkisser13]

dionysus cabin headcanons

children of dionysus

• HUGE theater kids.

• being highly emotional, wine children make great actors.

• they throw the best parties.

• they have extra beds in their cabin for people who pass out and can't handle their liquor.

• when one of them is upset, others around them get upset too, due to dionysus having influence on the mind.

• they hate the indoors and prefer open spaces.

• even when sober, they can't pass a breathalyzer test because they naturally have the scent of wine on them.

• they are all great cooks and know which wine to pair with each meal.

• they are all very good at directions and are rarely lost (a blessing from their stepmother).

• gender fluidity is common with dionysus kids.

• they all have thick, curly hair and strange color eyes.

• they are prone to depression and anger and are often bipolar.

• daughters of dionysus are rare so they are as powerful as big three kids (canon in the myths).

• they are harder to charmspeak due to their connection with the states of mind.

• arguments last for months because anger runs in their blood and the wine influence makes it worse.

• when they’re sad, they can make vines wilt by just looking at them.

• on very rare occasions, wine children can be born with the ability to affect another's mental state temporarily.

• this ability makes them feared by many, because they can cause hysteria and hallucinations, but they are also sought out by some suffering from depression or anxiety to help relax them.

• they get really thirsty really easily. they always have a bottle of water on hand.

• they are able to recognize all kinds of alcohol with just a sniff, but they all hate wine-tasting.

• they can automatically tell if a beverage has been tampered with, laced with something unwanted or if the ingredients used to make said alcohol are not safe for consumption.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is draped in grapevines and ivy, with the plants growing in a seemingly chaotic yet aesthetically pleasing manner.

• the exterior features vibrant and rich colors like deep purples, greens, and golds. they are reminiscent of a vineyard in full bloom.

• their cabin has a rustic, almost ancient greek villa vibe, with wooden beams, stone walls, and terracotta roof tiles.

• strings of fairy lights, lanterns, and other festive decorations hang around the cabin, creating a lively, celebratory atmosphere even when there's no party.

• comfortable outdoor furniture like hammocks, cushioned chairs, and wooden benches are scattered around for lounging and socializing.

• the doors in their cabin occasionally change colors and vines tend to move on their own.

cabin interior

• their cabin is almost entirely purple on the inside, which makes everything a little bit dark and dramatic. it's also usually very cool and damp inside- the perfect climate for storing wine.

• plush, comfortable furniture in rich fabrics and colors create a cozy yet opulent atmosphere. think velvet couches, silk cushions, and ornate rugs.

• they have a central bar area with stools and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks (and a secret stash of wine). nearby, they have a lounge area with low tables, bean bags, and cozy chairs for socializing and relaxing.

• soft, warm lighting from chandeliers, lanterns, and fairy lights create a magical, inviting ambiance. there are also be candles and fireflies in glass jars scattered around.

• the interior also features plenty of natural elements, like potted plants, hanging vines, and flowers. some walls might even have living plants growing on them.

• decorations include garlands, streamers, and masks hanging from the walls and the ceiling, giving the cabin a perpetual party vibe.

• the walls are adorned with art pieces, ranging from classical paintings to more whimsical, modern interpretations of dionysian myths. sculptures of satyrs, nymphs, and other mythological creatures are scattered around the cabin.

cabin traditions

• when a child of dionysus falls in love, it's a cabin tradition that they give their partner a hideous leopard print shirt.

• they put on regular plays, improv sessions, or storytelling nights, often featuring greek and roman myths and tales related to their father.

• new wine children undergo a playful initiation rite, involving a series of fun challenges and games, ending with a toast (with grape juice) welcoming them into the cabin.

• inspired by traditional wine-making, they hold an annual grape-crushing competition, with teams competing to crush the most grapes by stomping on them, followed by a big party to celebrate.

divider by @plutism

[morphodae]

“My Beloved”🪻 | Gregory Violet x Reader short oneshot | (Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji)

cw: none, fluff

A breeze blows by, an inadvertent shiver wracks your body against your wishes. You grit your teeth, cursing the cold winds of England on today of all days.

The sensation of a hood and fabric being placed on your head startles you. Peering to the left, you see Gregory staring at you expectantly as he finishes covering you with his cloak.

“You look cold. Here, wear it.”

It was supposed to be a nice picnic; one where you and Gregory could lounge together under overcast skies in blissful silence, eat, and have a mini drawing contest. However, the weather had different ideas when the temperature dropped drastically and abruptly.

You notice Gregory doesn’t seem to be shivering as you are and after confirming that he, in fact, doesn’t also need a warm cloak or blanket, you relax with a frustrated sigh.

“So much for our plans today. I’m sorry they got ruined.”

Gregory blinks; violet hues observe you. “I don’t think it ‘got ruined.’ Weather happens,” he deadpans. He closes his sketchbook and packs his supplies, rising from the grass and offering a thin, outstretched hand to you. “Let’s go inside before you catch a cold.”

“Me? What about you?”

“I prefer the cold and dark days. It’s calming. I’ll be fine in this sort of weather.”

“… then why not stay out?”

“As I said: it’s best you not catch a cold.”

You take his hand and lift yourself from the ground, brushing stray strands of grass from yourself and holding your painting supplies under your other arm.

“There’s no reason we cannot finish this indoors where the wind won’t blow hair into my eyes or scatter our things.” Gregory still hasn’t let go of your hand and as the two of you approach his manor, you make a point to address it.

“Still holding my hand?” You ask cheekily. Gregory is in front of you, unlocking the door. But even with his posture slightly huddled, the creeping vermillion on his cheeks and tip of his ear is unmistakable.

“I enjoy it.” After a moment of silence, he continues. “Do… you enjoy holding hands?”

You nod. “I do.”

“Then… let’s continue to inside… if that’s alright with you?”

You answer with an affirmative and the two of you huddle near his fireplace and resume your art date. Every now and again your free hands will touch or link pinky fingers until Gregory becomes bold and silently, yet gently, grabs your hand to place in his. His thumb would rub comforting circles on the top of your hand which makes your heart leap.

He still hasn’t asked for his cloak back nor have you felt the need to remove it even with the two of you before the heat of the fire indoors.

A blush forms on Gregory’s face before he glances at you once more. “Thank you for spending time with me.”

“Of course, dearest. I always enjoy spending time with you.” Your smile as you say this seems all-too-blinding despite Gregory not looking directly at you. The blush on his face darkens and he finally faces you with a flustered expression.

“Ah,” he mumbles, the struggle to maintain eye contact with you is difficult but he still tries, “that… doesn’t sound terrible to call me.”

“I’m glad. Am I moving too fast?”

Your concern for his comfort levels were always endearing. “No,” he shakes his head lightly, “I do not mind. Would it be alright if I call you with a mutually endearing name?”

You giggle, the sound sends butterflies to hi stomach. “Of course.”

Gregory inhales sharply before making eye contact with you. His smile is soft, genuine, and full of affection. “Then… do try and take better care of yourself in colder weather… my beloved.”

It was always like Gregory to worry about those he holds dear to him and it was something you always found to be incredibly charming and sweet. “I will,” you smile, “thank you for looking out for me.”

His expression turns a bit more somber as he regards you with a more serious countenance. “I will always look out for you. Your well-being is important.”

The two of you continue the night in serenity. Your drawings soon conclude and the two of you wind up falling asleep on the plush rug in front of the fireplace together. A servant comes alone at one point and spots the two of you; her voice ready to lightly scold before she sees the peaceful scene before her. With a smile, she exits the room and informs other Violet staff members not to disturb you for a while.

Even in slumber, Gregory’s hand still hasn’t left yours nor does he feel the need to let go anytime soon.

[littleroaes]

To any lovers left alive ( 恋人たち ‘The Lovers’ ), l.jy

inspired by weathering with you ( 2019 )

a failed love goddess saves herself by fleeing to earth and an ordinary hopeless romantic boy ( with his self claimed younger brother ), together they start a fail-proof service that can make the love of your life fall for you too. as he teaches her human relationships, they eventually come to adore each other too. though, as the universe's not in their favor, only left is to hope.

PAIRING lee juyeon x fem!reader, high schooler!eric

GENRE FLUFF, pretty angsty, slight fantasy, little smut ( MDI 18+ ), greek mythology!au ( eros & psyche ), hanahaki disease!au ( no one dies <;3 ), teaching love!au, forbidden rules aren’t in their favor love , little crime!au, amnesia!au, they run a love service, it rains a lot, human!juyeon, eros!reader, strangers to friends to ( nearly ) lovers, mutual pining ( but juyeon does it harder ), cute flirty needy juyeon, hopeless romantic and lovesick!juyeon, y/n likes to tease juyeon, adopted little brother!eric, high schooler!eric, makoto shinkai type of love like your name ( 2015 ), weathering with you ( 2019 )

WARNINGS call reader angel once, say fuck about 5 times, knife used as a metaphor of anger ( once ), juyeon finds and fires a gun, petty crime, ANGST — > bittersweet ending, fictional disease ( not conventionally used! ), amnesia, descriptions of coughing and breathlessness, mentions of violence ( physical ), SMUT — > kissing, making out, oral ( f receiving ), palming, dry humping, soft begging, p in v, unprotected ( don’t try at home ), juyeon’s touched starved af, both are kind of switch, very fluffy smut

WORD COUNT 33.6 k

PLAYLIST

a/n : this is one of my favorite pieces ive written so I hope you like it! don’t try to translate the japanese on the banner😭, it’s literally just bs to make the banner look like the movie posters😭 I don’t usually write smut, but I thought it added to the story. but don’t worry! it’s very soft and not hardcore at all ( very fluffy ). it’s a bit angstier than my other works, not by much, it’s predominantly fluff. it’s very melancholic!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

"A RECENT SPIKE IN NEW USERS FOR DATING APPS HAS CAUSED DEVELOPERS TO BE ASTOUNDED.

At the same time, hashtags like love is dead are trending number one on social media platforms like Twitter. Young people all over the internet are sharing their recent heartbreak, leaving us to question the mega romance struggle of the youth generation.”

When the glass door to the inner room falls close behind her, the voice from the TV in the left upper corner becomes merely a vague presence in the night. It ceases between the synthetic material of her raincoat in the harsh weather as she stands on the deck, a meter from the center. A wind from far away collides with the fragment of her face beneath the hood. How the rain, cold, impacts her skin before they descend down the curvature. 

But between the loose strands in nonexistent patterns before her eyes, shines the city in total divine. Each lightsource, limited in a single square, stacked on top of the other, reflects in the water as they approach port. 

The boat collides with the stone lining surrounding the city port. It echoes over the raging sea and Y/n forces her hands deeper down the fabric of her pockets. While the people in neon green vests let the metal reach over to land, the dock, she for a single second stood alone on, is slowly filling over with people from indoors. 

The vague heat across the passengers clothes as they pass her by. She stands still to let them cross the arch above water without reflection. Y/n walks out the metal bridge with the last five passengers. When her body reaches fast land, she hears resonant voices from the workers behind, together with the metal being thrown up against the dock. 

At the very edge of the city, she looks up towards the highest lights, where the towering buildings fade into the rain clouds. To then look down, where the crowd of passengers enters between litten up corners. The backpack on her shoulders feels immensely light as she looks at the nearest street where signs emit neon blue and starlight yellow. 

But as the celestial behind the clouded sphere continues to move when she stands underneath it, Y/n forces the straps higher and walks between the entrance of neon delight. 

The storm from the first day she laid her eyes on the city, still lingers over the high buildings. Though, the heavy rain that plummets against the architectural dimensions, can’t reach her in between all these walls. In a hostel room, cramped between six–five enclosures, until the very outer edge of the building meets weather, she sits cramped up against the computer desk. 

Teared tour guides of the metropolitan city, stacked on top of each other, and the white screen in complete view of her vision, showcases link after link of potential jobs. Every blue sentence turns purple as she passes down the page. But each leads to a paragraph with a solid brick wall. From the first word down to the next five, Y/n doesn’t have to read more to realize she isn’t qualified. 

At last, at the tail end of the first page, she finds an application for a job at a hostess bar. Three clicks among the main streets on google maps, she finds the neon sign in an alley. Half of its radiance, covered by alternate indorses. The street view won’t let her in to see the entrance, compressed between shadows. 

Y/n falls back into the chair. The rectangular screen ventures from sight field as her mind receives the blue illuminated walls and brown wood of the desk. One can barely see the floor in this precarious space, therefore, she leans further back, embraces her legs and watches the ceiling. The walls impend on her figure, but somehow she feels guarded. Between all layers, she stays hidden from the eyes of the storm or silhouettes remote from street lights. 

The complete silence of this space, bane in a second, being her stomach. A kind of sound that only comes by hunger, and a sort that pains at the very inside of the body. Y/n looks down from the walls, lets one arm off her legs and gently wraps it around her stomach. 

Her eyes wander the table. Between the small titles of books, keyboard and paper scribbles, lies three bills in vertical order. A single shadow beneath the gaping parts where paper bends, causes of the light from the screen. Y/n stares at it as if it will change. But the only thing in motion is the light from the computer, when she hasn’t moved the cursor and the white fades to a darker shade. 

Her shift will be tomorrow night, and the money beside the computer will be needed for the morning, in the badly lit register, where a man sits behind a scratched plastic veil. The same sound from before lingers between the room and Y/n gently stands up. The chair creaks as she pushes it under the table and turns against the artificial light, to get the plastic raincoat, dripping of water from the weather thundering outside. 

“I apologize, I’m-” 

“Out! You’re fired!” 

The last words leaving her mouth echoes over the blue-red litten street. As his face is only a centimeters from the back door, she takes the handle and forces it close. The sharp edge of the black metal tears the space in between them. His eyelids fall shut, chin down towards his chest as his right foot trips over the elevation in asphalt. In the limited back door space, where he stands secluded from rain, are two plastic bins. His feet touch the ground where water has endured along concrete and created a static puddle. The opposite loses grip and his shoulder lands on the brown bin, at the edge of the cubicle.

How in an instant, the fall of rain against concrete existed only auditorily, but to now soak his white shirt. The brown bin, together with his own silhouette, falls down the asphalt, creating waves in the thin build up of water. All its insides are dispersed across the alley, beside his knee, to the cigarette ashtray down the other wall. 

He lets hands coat himself in midnight rain as he forces to stand. Assemble the pieces in neon light as he desperately wonders where to take himself next. Wherever his thoughts seem to take him, his mind always runs back to his brother. 

When the bin stands upright, at the place it first belonged, he sees a brown paper bag below it. Sealed in tape across the opening. To reach down and see dark spots form, where his fingers touch the paper. His eyes curiously brightened by the red neon sign above. The paper bag, tightly shut, seamlessly goes into his pocket. Even as he comes out the back alley of restaurants and out the high end street where people without faces covered in raincoats brush against him, he thinks about the slight weight change in his right pocket. 

-

At the glass door into a fast food chain where a doorstep separates the water and white clear floor, he steps in. When it locks to the frame, the weather becomes simply a vague background shatter against the windows. Instead, static rhythms come from the TV in the higher corner. 

He finally takes a seat. Black tray decorated in a thin piece of paper with his order placed on top. The grease of the burger seeps through the wrapping. As he sits on the extended piece of table up against the window, he sees fragments of a color spectrum in the dark as people pass him by. He takes off his marine blue raincoat, water courses through the folds and down the hem, before it assembles and falls to the floor. To let it continue pour beneath the chair as he places it on the back rest. He sits down again, sees his reflection in the window. Though supposed to be a transparent barrier to another scene, in the dark, even windows become mirrors. He sees a vague outline of his metal plate on his uniform. “Juyeon”, outlined in two languages fully black. Before opening his meal, he unclips the brooch and lays it beside the tray. 

While half way through his burger, the paper bag in the right pocket off his raincoat crosses his mind. Still with the burger in one of his hands, the other reaches to the end of his raincoat, where the hem line dances upon the floor. It whispers of paper and he has it only a centimeter or two below the table. Juyeon’s chin leans forward and the strands of his fringe fall with it. 

He turns it upside down and inspect the crinkled sides. Finally lets his food down the tray to use both hands to gently loosen the tape from the fibers. The fold at the very top of the brown bag opens and Juyeon cautiously reaches his finger in between. 

He can’t completely ascertain why he took it. Maybe because there’s no firm reasoning to argue, since it was only pure curiosity. One doesn’t throw a sealed package in the bin, he thinks. 

Strands of his fringe seem to fall faster when his eyes reach for the black complexion hiding beneath the paper. The skin of his fingers feels cold hard material, and when his hand returns, revealing half of the object in matt black, his eyes go from curious to wide of racing heart. 

He only sees the object for a second, but nonetheless, Juyeon brings it to his stomach and leans over the table. The bag is in full shadow beneath his body and eyes coated in a thin layer of horrid adrenaline, watching the surrounding tables. When the weighting pressure against his chest has started to loosen and the avid line of light in his eyes has run out, Juyeon leans up a little. Let the radiance from the spotlight ceiling find its way in and make sense of the object again. 

As he sat and wished it was a dream, beneath him, in his own lap, lies a gun. Sharp lines of its corners contrast violently against the color palette of the restaurant. Juyeon takes his hand down towards it, feels the weight. Sounds of dark pitch when tapping his nail against it. There is no frame in his mind whether the object in his lap is a real gun. Closest being a toy gun from the local kids shop in younger days. It could not be real, he thinks, as it turns to the other hand. 

Either way, when Juyeon once again looks up, the scenery is as serene as the first time. At the highest corner above the toilets is a screen. TV that, instead of music distracts from the overbearing silence of a strange place, plays the news. The woman in the suit talks about the spike in dating apps. With the first mention of romance, Juyeon looks away. Cage the voice, to simply return to background noise, without a purpose of being understood. 

For the last time his eyes recoil to the gun. Juyeon takes up the paper bag again, folding it gently around the gun before reaching to his jean pocket. If it’s real, he needs to keep it hidden and preferably leave it inside another dark alley along the city streets. And if it is just simply plastic, it bears no consequences. 

Where paint starts to fade, cloth seen behind the window and electric cables rather than leaves. Y/n stands on her toes to inspect the details of glass into private lives. An apartment complex compressed between five others, stairs where the rain varies in flow, down each step to the closest drain and three windows in lack of light. 

In contrast to the constant pedestrian crossings further away, places like these may hold people with forgetful minds about their doors, or just the framework itself that is supposed to protect them, won’t. 

At the third floor of the complex in gray shade, is a dark window with broken lining placed a meter from the stairway. Y/n has gone into the alleyways where lush plants of the forever rain covers any spots where street lamps would shine between the high buildings. It's cramped, shoulders brush between edges of green plantation and feet nearly trip over pots. There are metal fences in blue pigment that creak every time she opens or closes them. But at last, she stands at the end of the stairs, beside a plant, suffocated in water. 

To reach out the window with red hands as an effect of cold, onto the ice metal lining. It hurts in those fingers but nonetheless, Y/n continues to pull on loose pieces and hit the frame. As another wind rises, a star dies and one room in the neighborhood darkens. The square design loosens from the complex and creaks amidst the rain shatter. 

It’s simple to take one step onto the sill and force one’s body up the elevation, to then fall to the opposite floor. Though, as Y/n then stands up to observe the secret world of someone else’s, she feels just a little guilty as eyes return to the floor. How her shoes holding rain frees it, and causes thin puddles to collect beneath. Y/n turn her head, two beds beside her, and way in, a kitchen. She walks up to the counter where a few plates are stacked and the window above the sink opens for light over the otherwise shadowed details.

Immediately, there’s a neatly organized box of ramen packages close to the sink. Placed in color order, Y/n’s hand, just a little hesitant to actually reach out and ruin it. Three red’s that she gently puts in her raincoat, because it was most of that color. Now her eyes adverts from the counter up to the shelves. Hidden furthest where the sharp lines and walls cut off any highlights, she sees a plastic bag. Y/n stands on her toes to force her hand in, it echoes of plastic throughout the apartment. When reading the label, it’s melon bread. 

A sudden sound goes through the walls, a click from the hallway behind her. Y/n looks over her shoulder to see a streak of yellow light, painting the floor before it disappears when the door closes once again. Fabrics and keys, chaotic in that part of the complexion and Y/n stares at the wall before the new presence. All thoughts that race through her mind, become none when they all collide into each other. A fragment of an idea does make itself out of the blur. But there is no use in hiding beneath the sink or running towards the window, because when her eyes drift for an escape, the person reveals himself and stares eye to eye with her. 

As if body, absent like two curtains drifting apart, her soul left before him. She hasn’t realized the anonymity in the real world until the eyes of someone else, truly authenticate her existence. How much of humanity is just to fill up old space and pass each other in it. 

As neither of them say anything, a second silhouette appears from the hall. 

“What’s wrong-” He, a distance in height from the former and in navy school uniform with a backpack, halts his words when closing in on the taller, and then follows the line of stare to her figure. The taller’s eyes turn sharp in casted light from outside. He takes a step back to the one in school uniform, so his body hides from her sight, aside from the glimpse of hair and eyes above the shoulder. 

“Who are you?” 

Y/n lift her hands up to head length, the plastic of red vibrant packages crinkles with it, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” She purses her lips in, tears her eyes away from theirs as she watches the city framed in the window. To let her hands down again, Y/n stacks the three red packages on top of each other and the bread neatly beside. 

“I’ll leave.” Her shoes stain the floor and cold air forge divides them as she passes down the hallway. The one protected by a taller shoulder, watches her take the door handle and turns when he feels the presence of the one before him alter. 

“You didn’t take anything else?” The taller one asks while looking at her. The line of his shoulders aren’t as tense, the shine in his eyes from the awake city at night, reflects like a single star rather than the red light at the tops of soaring buildings. Y/n holds her hand still on the metal, shakes her head. Soon after, he frees his back from the shorter, continuing up the counter. Eyes of the one in uniform follows him and lingers in the direction plastic can be heard. Then, in a slightly faster haste than daily walk, he comes up to her with the three ramen and bread. 

Her eyes remain in wonder over his two hands with mere distance to her own. And as another second passes, she sees a fruit bar of sorts on top of the ramen. Y/n takes her eyes off the food in an uncertain manner, towards the window. The student who still glances in her direction, stays at that line of floor. 

The plastic sounds again as he motions it towards her. His fringe follows that action, “You needed the food.” He says gently and this time, fully extends his arms to let the vibrant material fold gently against her stomach. 

Y/n finally lets her hands around it, rain on her coat, now spreading across the synthetic. The shoes on her, find themselves in an awkward position and vision wanders between two points. Therefore, the boy gently nods and purses his lips in. 

Her hand finally weighs down on the handle and a light, much stronger than the moon, opens from that point. It casts itself over him and the one further into the apartment. She for the first time realizes the complexity in human features as the highlights contrast with its shadows.

“Thank you…I’m sorry.” Y/n says quietly before closing the door. 

There’s an empty seat to his right at the back of the bus. Sunshine behind the cloud layers has passed, and during evening, the rain remains, and shatters against the windows with an ever changing view. Juyeon watches each droplet race across the glass before it implodes against the edge. The sequence as if taken out of a memory, he stares for a bit longer. 

A monotone voice lingers along the bus as it comes to a stop. The rain enhances when the doors separate. A woman in the middle of the bus walks out and at the front steps a boy in. By only a faint glimpse of his profile, even in between the masses of crowds, Juyeon would make out the features and smile as he does now. Eric waves goodbye to two girls standing beneath the door before turning his head, locking eyes with Juyeon at the very back. 

Eric takes the right seat next to the older. Let the backpack off his shoulders and lie it in his lap. Juyeon observes each action and synthetic fold of the material til the door closes and the cityscape moves forward. The younger one suddenly looks up at Juyeon who still smiles, so much that his eyes start to crease. 

“Player.” Juyeon pats his shoulder against Eric’s. Meanwhile the one in sudden accusation takes up the umbrella, where it has compiled a small puddle. It spills rain on their pants as he waves it towards Juyeon, and he lets out a laugh and covers his face behind his hands. Before Eric has gotten the entire backseat rain covered, Juyeon takes his wrists and forces it down. 

“I’m not.” Eric switches to a more comfortable position, “You’re just hopeless.” 

Juyeon scoffs, “I’m not.” 

Eric does the same, leaning his body over Juyeon’s, and hand, reaching for his pocket. Eric is back in his own seat before Juyeon’s expression converts. While Juyeon furrows his eyebrows and asks him what he’s doing, Eric has his lockscreen on perfect display, HD in all dimensions, perfectly framed in the rectangular screen. The younger one turns the phone up against his nose. 

Juyeon would scold him, but his lips fall shut as the smile from dreams enters his sight once again. The picture is from a day in which the weather was warmer and the sun stood in complete limelight, cloud curtains out of view. A month has gone by, but somehow it feels as if glimpsing into a past life as he makes eye contact with the captured past. 

Juyeon takes the phone back, holds it in two hands. Eric sits quietly to observe Juyeon, and quickly sighs when the older doesn’t turn off the screen. Juyeon looks up, visible pout on his lips and fallen eyes, he consciously holds the phone while Eric falls back in his seat. 

“You still have her as your lockscreen?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Eric sighs again, “Hopeless.” He widens his eyes, “Hopeless!”

Juyeon too leans back, letting the younger’s words drown him like the downpour. The screen close to his face again. Somehow, the longer he stares at it, he feels as if she will stand there again before him, like the spring they first met. But each night he longingly waits, but rain season never ends. 

-

At the last stop, where there’s only vague lights and dark roads. They walk under their own umbrellas. The shatter over the bus seems to haunt them wherever they go. From where cars and buses flashes beside each scenery, building walls close in on them. Each meter reaches beyond the next alley, how it feels as if the edge of the umbrella will make marks in the walls. 

It is quiet between them, Juyeon looks at Eric and observes the delicate details over his face. He smiles where the umbrella covers it. Some days, on the same street, Eric’s voice can echo past the last wall and reach further out to the sides where the signs extend. And other days, his imaginative world stays where it was born. Juyeon guesses it must have been a tiring day. 

An abrupt sound from a left alley draws a crack in the ambiance evening. Eyes of the two turn towards that vague litten path. Their sneakers cease to form circular patterns in puddles as their vision tries to reach in between the signs. At last, they finally see the figure of a girl moving backwards, away from someone on the other side as her hands extend against the wall. A shout echoes again and a man comes from the opposite side, charges against her and she pulls herself even higher up the wall. 

The two of them stand like nature in mid winter, frozen and left to watch the world. Eric’s eyes become wider when the man pulls off her raincoat hood, tauntingly gestures his hand to her face and takes a grip on her hair. The frown on Juyeon’s face reads. Though, none of them steps another foot into the alley. 

“Juy-” Eric whispers but his voice disappears when Juyeon walks forward. Each step on the stones becomes slower as he falls in line with the center. 

There’s a second presence underneath nightlife entrance. He catches sight of Juyeon first, shine of fine metal as he sharpens his eyes. Juyeon’s dispute in cautious surveillance as the man and girl shift towards him. As they lock eyes, Juyeon recognizes her features. It’s of manmade light, though, familiar as ever. 

“What do you want?” The one with turned back asks. 

Juyeon deliberately closes his hands around the umbrella, “Please, let go of her.”

The man scoffs, “It’s none of your business, Boy.” 

“I’m telling you to take a step away from her.” 

“As I said,” The man takes his hands off the wall, reiterating those words as he comes closer.

“It’s none of your business!”

The man forces his heavy arms on Juyeon’s shoulders. Lean his weight onto his palm until Juyeon falls backwards. His left foot comes behind the other, and his hand nearly loses the umbrella. Before he comes upon the asphalt, a hand on his collar obliges the rain to violently graze his face. 

At the same time, the girl walks off the wall. Contempt she takes her hand out to grip the man’s blazer. Though, before her fingers touch the black fabric, the second man comes behind her. The weight of his arm comes over her shoulders, coercing her knees to fall.

Juyeon, through the cruel grip in high angle, sees her struggle. He verges on violence, taking the loose end of his blazer and pulls him closer. But when the man loses balance, both his hands come over his shoulder. Weighed down on opposite sides, causing Juyeon to groan. Over him, he constraints Juyeon, forcing ground to pierce his back.

How the cold rain seeps through the clothing, soaks his skin until red and itches. As he tries to force his legs up, the man pushes his weight onto him harder, hands against his throat. Barely breathing, it’s enough to convert rain to stars, being buried six feet under. Each tear from the sky falls in his eyes and Juyeon irregularly closes them so as to make eye contact with the one above. 

“What will you do about it, Boy?” He taunts. 

Shirt scratches against the ground once more, a raindrop falls onto a middle point of his eyes. Juyeon trails his right hand onto the asphalt. Each sharp edge of the black stone seizes his skin and draws white patterns. He reaches for his pocket, desperately lifts on his body to make room for just a centimeter as water leaks into his clothing. Before his thighs weighs down his own, Juyeon gets the gun out. Takes his opposite from the ground, has the two of them on the trigger. With fully extended arms, he directs it towards his face, the hole as a third eye beneath him. 

He scoffs from above, “Like you will kill me either way?” 

Raincoats folding against each other to the left, as the other man holds Y/n down. His strong complexion covers Eric down the alley and Juyeon secures his eyes on the man. Pressure sores from the grinding teeth as his point finger shakes over the extinguisher. The rain falls down the matt material of the gun and down his skin. He curses the damn gun for being plastic as the man’s aggravation fuels constraint. A last taunt leaves his lips, rage when sunken to hell, crosses his chest as if by a knife, Juyeon pulls the trigger. 

Juyeon closes his eyes the moment the trigger transcend the boundary, and an ear piercing sound shocks between the high walls. Loss of vision, it feels as if the entire platform adheres to that wave. Once he opens his eyes, the shockwave has consumed all provoke. To trail the dust, it ascended and broke a street lamp, devastating the lucent. 

He distances himself, wide eyed, etched in terror, Juyeon lies still, seeing his pretense have grown ugly from the sudden shatter as the man takes two steps back. Juyeon finally sits up, rests his hand against the asphalt while still in condemnation. He tears it in a second to turn left. The girl holds the same posture as the two others, he realizes there’s no hands on her shoulders. Juyeon forces himself up, grabs her arm and collides shoulders with the man. He sees Eric standing at the same position as he left him and breathes til it hurts.  

“Run!” Juyeon shouts. 

-

He sees those windows he walks by everyday, and Eric accelerates his feet to fall in line with Juyeon. The younger takes him by the upper arm jacket and forces him to stop. 

“Where the fuck you get the gun?” Eric spits. 

Juyeon tears his arm away and looks at the streetlights in row. No stranger is present under the yellow light, so Juyeon looks back towards Eric and forces the gun lower in his pocket. 

“I found it in a paper bag, I didn’t know it was real.” He sighs, “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow, okay?”

Eric doesn’t argue further, instead takes a step back from the circle of light surrounding them. Eric stands with his back against him, head advancing in parallel to the ground as his wet shoes touch the dead grass in between the wall and asphalt. 

“Why did you do that?” 

Juyeon turns around, a thin layer of startle lies over the pupil and his chest still falls heavily from lack of air. He blinks a few times as the girl’s shoulders fall with her chin. Only a finite part of her features is visible in streetlight and the two boys wait for her in silence as she turns in her place and watches the obscure details of the wall. 

“I needed that job.” She says finally and looks up. The rain at her scalp runs down each strand until it forms a droplet at the edge. Until it lands on the skin beneath her eye.

Juyeon watches her cold written figure in fabricated light with mouth slightly agape, as if wanting to say something but no words are to use. The older feels a sudden push against his upper arm. To slip one dimension out of trance, he looks down where the wall becomes background and Eric waits impatiently. Eric’s left side leans continually towards her direction in haste, as his eyes widens. Juyeon stares at the action for a second, until returning, with the same expression as before but with a burden from the shorter. 

“I’m sorry…” Juyeon starts. She too face him, chin still a centimeter down and pupils drained of rain, or maybe worry. 

“...I thought you were in danger.” He focuses on the point where the worn down wall meets the asphalt and green complexion grows amidst. How his cold hand runs up to his neck where even his hair hasn’t been saved from downpour. There’s a sort of diversion in the way he looks down, seeming to stare at a point far away. As if it were a clear night sky with four constellations, he speaks again. 

“I shouldn't have assumed, I’m sorry.” 

Eric gives no part in sound, but still, nods his head gently. The girl at the other side of the faint circle, illuminated by the lamp, presses a faint smile. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

Juyeon looks up fully and as if another star convulsed, their expression shifts and her features are now in full view. How the moon in her veil has finally revealed the hidden side and the girl smiles fully. She shakes her head to make room for the skin concealed in strands. A filter in blue green light, enchanted by city night, conceal the space they stand in and she feels two leaves opening up its sides to reveal itself. 

“I’m Y/n.” she takes out her hand, cold as the other two’s. 

“I’m Juyeon.” He shakes her hand, “This is Eric.” And motions it to the younger. 

“Hello.” Eric says with a pressed smile. 

Y/n tilts her head, a visible change in angle as she looks at Juyeon then Eric. 

“Are you brothers or?” 

“Yes.” Eric says. Juyeon laughs awkwardly. 

“Not biologically, Eric’s my adopted brother and my mother passed away recently.” 

“Oh, sorry for your mother.” 

Juyeon shakes his head gently, “She had been sick for sometime, we take care of each other well, right Eric?” He touches his shoulder with his elbow which causes Eric to look up. 

“Mm!” He nods. 

Eric is eventually the one to ask Y/n to come in with them as the rain starts once again. Her raincoat is as wet as theirs and during the interval of their conversation, even puddles form beneath their coats. Y/n is the last one left in the bathroom. She stands with her hair above the tub, draining remaining water from her hair. Juyeon edges on the doorframe to the bathroom, looks at her with vast eyes before walking to his bed. He lends her a muted green set of clothing that he can’t remember from where. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” 

Y/n shakes her head in the bedroom. 

“I took the boat here.” 

“Where do you come from?” Juyeon asks, seated at the edge of the bed. His hands gathered at the front of his lap. Y/n looks down her own, takes the hem between two fingers before speaking. 

Her tone is gentle, birds sing in the arch of her, “I don’t think you’ll believe me.” 

"Why?" You can tell us.” He tilts his head. 

She wonder over the ceiling. Underneath this roof, it feels as if none can hurt her, “I’m not human.” 

Juyeon’s quiet, smiles cautiously to mirror her, “I-” 

His first thought is to reach out his hand and tell her she’s obviously wrong, but, there’s a certain rudeness in telling a mere stranger they have an incorrect idea about themselves. 

Y/n laughs, “Do you believe in gods, Juyeon and Eric?” She looks at the two beds. 

“No.” Eric answers immediately. 

“Then, I have to break it to you.” She looks at Eric, “I am the love Goddess.” 

“Yeah, and I’m a Unicorn.” Eric laughs. 

“Eric?!” Juyeon panics, in which Y/n laughs again. 

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to believe it.” 

Surrounded in conversations for a bit longer as her coat drips of rain still. The two of them come in on work, when Juyeon asks her. Y/n scratches her head as she tells him it was her only chance at a job. That nearly everything is gone after the city journey. Juyeon bites his lip and shifts weight in the bed as that hidden guilt echoes within.

“Can’t you start a service?” His sudden voice lingers over the hard floor. Y/n has her head in his direction, with eyes casted by the little lamp beside the mattress. Juyeon takes his hand on the edge of the bed and Eric watches from the opposite side how he settles onto his knees, further than a meter distance, but close enough for her to feel the wooden floor trail his motions in the contrasting sereness of Earth

“I mean,” Juyeon takes one hand on the floor and leans onto it.

“Say, you promise to people to put in their name and someone they like, that they’ll fall in love, in exchange you get money?” 

To deflect from the thin bridge created between them, Y/n returns to the hemline. Where the washed out fabric turns sparse, and because of the warm light from, the outline of her legs filters through the fabrication. The spot beside him becomes desolate as he takes his hand back to his own warmth, to rest with the other in the curve of his lap. 

“Maybe…” She answers without looking. 

Juyeon shifts his legs, he falls into a criss-cross position, “I mean, magic is profitable, people seem to like it.” He looks behind himself to point at Eric on the other bed, but stutters as his silhouette has fallen between the blue patterns, only his feet visible at the edge. 

“I-I see high school students with magic stones all the time.” 

Y/n smiles again. To bring her legs up from the floor and embrace them with her arms as she leans into the gap created by colliding knees. 

“It is one of the first rules as a god to not interfere with human life for personal gain.” She pauses, “I probably shouldn’t.” 

It turns silent once again, or, silence aside from the snoring coming from the bed in the corner. Then of course, a city is never fully asleep. He scratches his nape and diverts his vision to the dishwasher in the kitchen, “I’m sorry, I just feel really bad for the job thing.” His back falls towards the floor gently, but despite delicate, he hits it. As it lingers amid the inner four walls and trails to her end, she smiles and laughs. 

“It’s okay,” Y/n nods, “I’ll think about it.” 

“Is it true?” One of the girls, in high ponytail, wrapped in red silk band asks. 

Y/n nods, pushes the pink box one step closer over the table. She takes up the black marker, holds it out to them. With an encouraging motion of her hand and the calm line of her lips. Before the girl at the center touches hands with Cupid, Eric comes forward.

“You can get a free trial.” 

The peaceful features on her face, reminiscent of a spring morning, disappears like it has  run one season back. Her head shifts towards him in a second, eyes wide and begs him as to why he just uttered those words. Eric sees them, but looks away, just as calmly as he said that sentence. 

“Try for free and if it works, tell the others around the school.” He holds out his hand, “Deal?” 

The girl in center alternates intent with the two beside her. The gaze bridging between them must have sent some obsolete signals, Y/n think, cause after, she who has the pen reaches out her hand. Y/n, desperate, tells herself not to tremble when the girl takes a pink note. How the synthetic tip scratches against the dry paper surface, and after a few seconds, the girl lets the note fall into the liminal space seeping light into the box. 

Y/n watches in silence as they disappear out the door and follow their back silhouette as far as the windows down the hall let her. Y/n looks at him once again. Eric lifts his eyebrows as her eyes are intensely edged and while her left cheek seems to pout out a bit further than the right. 

“It’s business.” He says, “After you actually make them fall in love, the whole school will come rushing in here.” 

Y/n tilts her head back. Impatience bound through her veins when she feels as if the sun hasn’t risen another centimeter. Her arms across her chest as she thinks about dirty hostels and forbidden rules.  

Eric sighs and one of the backpack straps falls down his shoulder, “Trust me, rumors spread fast in here.” 

She nods, accepting the fact that the human beside her knows more than she does. 

- 

Only one more student came by that morning. They had allegedly built curiosity when a pink flier at the bottom of the stairs, written in bold letters with about four thousand hearts, crinkled when they opened the main entrance. Y/n was rather skeptical of the poster Eric gifted her. The A4 was the cleanest shade of white she had ever laid her eyes on, either way, when he asked why, she didn’t want to admit it was the rough edges of his lettering. Also, that her own wasn’t worth a duck feather pen in fine ink either. 

Eric said he needed to go to his next class. Y/n had taken a seat down one of the chairs beside a desk. She shifted her head where the sun struck his face, the warm filter over his complexion, reminded her of gold. He told her to lay low, even go to the cafe two buildings away if teachers control the flier pointing at room 233   . 

When she watched his silhouette fade from yellow tones and into shadows of the cold litten building. His back draped in navy fabric disappears behind the same wall as all four other people. As only the ventilation lingers between the dust and even the clock over the door stands frozen in time at 14:17, Y/n sighs and turns her head to the window. Staring worriedly at a point beyond the sky only she can see.

-

How the end of each shoe shatters against the floor as students pass by the windows of each classroom down the corridor. As the teacher neither sits on her own desk or stands before the chalkboard, all fabrics, bags and voices come in clusters, lined up against each corner and wall. 

A voice from the right side of the classroom, beside the window, draws his vision to them. At that corner of the room stands a group of four other boys. Eric waves before walking between the desks down the spot underneath the sunlight. 

“You’re late.” One indicates. 

“I’m always.” Eric laughs and lets the backpack fall off his shoulder. 

“But I saw you on the way here, you were with some girl?” The other in the group starts making noises and hitting his shoulder. Eric instead rolls his eyes. 

“She needed help, she’s my brother’s age either way.” 

The book in his bag comes up in height with Eric’s head, before he swings it against the one beside him. It lands on his chest and the other boys laugh loudly. Though, fades in a second when inpatient footsteps run down the hall and crash though the classroom frame. The entirety of the classroom has turned their heads to the one at the center of the chalkboard. It’s the football captain of the team. His hair stands shiverled, the one collar of his blazer is folded inside. At the same time, while all eyes are on him, he scans the panorama and stops when he sees the group furthest down to the left. 

His eyes light up in a way only described in fairytales. The curve of his lips and the breath of relief that go through them as he runs up to the group. The people surrounding that desk make room for him as he comes closer. On one of the chairs sits the girl who put her name in the pink box. Eric can only see the boy’s back but clearly each and every change in her facial features. It feels as if she hasn’t closed her eyes since he came before the desk. They sparkle reflection of his own and he finally speaks. 

“I walked past a flower shop yesterday, and I saw this, it reminded me of you so I ran and bought it.” He takes up a silk wrapped bouquet that takes up the entirety of his backpack. A gasp goes through the room, and the girl too, lacks air in her lungs as she hesitantly takes the flowers. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. 

“I love you, Lynn.” 

Whispers of excitement fill the four walls and dares to break through the window. Faintly beside him, Eric makes out that the four behind him start whispering too and laughs.He thinks of the paper down the stairwell and Y/n on the floor above. How he has maybe found God, placed in his mundane daily life. 

-

In the tear of afternoon Eric lets his bag levitate over the floor as he waits for the teacher to set the ending breath of her sentence. And the moment she does, Eric takes full step across the sharp edges of each desk and nearly falls over one. Out in the hallway, Eric runs, his figure covers the orange shade seeping through each window as he comes up the stairs, making the poster almost lose touch with frail plastic tape. 

At the second floor, he searches each frame that lets him glimpse through the transparency and into the room behind walls. And at the very end, where he left her before the class, her back stands against the bygone rectangle in sun bleached composition. Y/n turns from the school scenery and looks back at him. It could be the novel perspective he has gained that makes him biased, but he wonders if she knew his presence up the stairs before even this dimension let her hear it. 

Her features are peacefully drawn against her skin, not a single rule of tension as she questions his presence with vast eyes. 

“How did you do it?” Eric walks up closer to her. Y/n smiles and leans further against the window to watch the vague silhouettes and their shadow drawn across the concrete. 

“I told you, I’m not human.” She looks at him.

As voices from the entangled hallways underneath their feet reach their ears, Eric wonders if a change in perception will happen, if he lets the minute visor move one step further. Even Y/n’s expression alters. The younger one leans in a bit closer, his pupils seem to search for a fragment of something else, to make sense of her place in home he thought he knew. Y/n herself tense and with immense eyes, takes up her hands. 

Like a child taking its first step to explore the vast Earth, Eric reaches his finger out to touch her nose, then her cheek. Later the eyelid, force to close and open it which eventually makes Y/n take a step back and blink about three times in span of one. Y/n laughs slightly as Eric still observes her essence without blinking. 

A sharp sound, contrasting to the muted creaks of desks and old walls veiled in delicate old linen. Behind her back, an arrow that balances between the points of two fingers. She looks towards his face, not a single filter thrown over a feature of his astonished expression. Sun reflects onto it as it weighs in her hand, and she closes the space in between them as the arrow comes underneath his chin.

“So you believe me now?” Y/n asks, still smiling. 

How his eyes, comparable with the sun as they delights in curiosity. His fingers reach for the arrow, but hesitantly closes in on his chest before he looks up towards her again. Y/n nods gently and takes her hand closer and his fingers finally feel the thin line of the arrow. He takes it gently in two hands. Doesn’t quite force his fingers around it, as if a touch, merely a frequent stronger would tear it. 

“Yeah!” He breathes out, “Yeah, I do!” 

Y/n opens her mouth to speak once again, but a knock against the frame from the opposite side takes their attention away. Where the sunshine cast itself the clearest, stands another girl and a friend slightly behind. The girl’s hand on the lining, she looks behind her shoulder before back at Y/n. 

“I saw your poster, I heard you can make people fall in love.” The girl takes her shoulder bag to her font and reaches for the pocket. Between folding of materials and crinkles of keys, the girl extends her arm with a bill. 

“We want to try.” 

As the limited day hours come on its last ones in winter, Eric and Y/n look at each other. The younger enthusiastically nods when her eyebrows fall into a state of trouble. Hesitantly, Y/n nods towards him and takes the place behind the desk and slides two pink notes across the surface. 

“Of course!” 

Winter reeks off the flooring and spreads up her skin. She holds her legs tighter against her body as each bill and silver coin touches the cold floor. With the last gray metal circle in place, she extends her back and scans the paper in thousand folds. Y/n bites her lip with her face down towards her lap, and her back still as a first impression when someone comes through the door. 

Thin plastic bindings whisper in the hall. Juyeon takes off his shoes at the door frame, chin directed against Y/n’s back underneath the counter. His fingers don’t find the laces and he takes his eyes off for a second. Eric lies in bed, with his phone and Juyeon sighs quietly before letting the plastic bag up on the square table. 

“Eric, you need to do your homework.” Juyeon tilts his head to get even a vague coloration. 

“I’ll do it soon.” Eric answers. 

To fold down the white synthetic filter, Juyeon looks down at Y/n again. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks. 

Y/n looks up with vast eyes that fall in usual size once again. She presses a smile between her lips and trails the line between the wood. 

“I’m a little worried.” She says, though she quickly breathes again as his hands come off the bag. 

“It’s not a lot though, the hostel is just getting more expensive. The money isn’t quite enough yet.” Y/n turns back to the three bills and two coins. 

“You can stay here.” Eric’s voice comes from the other end. The two of them look at him, now fully extended over the covers. The sheets drape over his shoulders and legs while the blue light from the screen illuminates his face. She returns in direction and sees Juyeon looking at her with the identical vast eyes as her own. Y/n looks away, she realizes Eric’s complexion isn’t as daunting. 

“Can’t she?”

“It’s okay I don’t-” Y/n answers, but Juyeon intervenes.

“No, you can stay.” 

Y/n turns to him fully without words, stares at him as he looks away and scratches his neck. It’s still quiet when he remembers the plastic bag left on the table and starts to empty it. 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. At first thought, she doesn’t want to intrude on the line she already feels like bordering. Contrary, she thinks going around the streets would be ruthless. Juyeon nods and she looks over towards Eric. 

“You too?” 

“Of course, Juyeon’s starting to get on my nerves either way.” He sighs and falls back onto the pillow. The tone itself was nearly bounding on a desire to become three in the house rather than specifically having her settle in. 

“Hey?” Juyeon’s hands tangle themselves in the thin synthetic while he tries to get them out. His head leans dramatically to one side while Eric has let the pillows impose around him again.

“I understand that.” Y/n crosses her legs and leans back on her arms, “Don’t worry, Eric, I’ll keep you entertained.” 

Juyeon holds a sort of offended expression as she laughs and Eric comes up the fabrics again. 

“You’re a high schooler, you just hangout with friends either way.” Juyeon sulks. 

“Doesn’t matter, Y/n’s cooler than you.” 

“How?” He walks over to Eric’s bed, letting his arms hang low as he stands above the younger and his fringe fall upon. 

“She’s literally a god, and you don’t even have a girlfriend.” He moves his hand. 

Eric sees from beneath his figure how it forms a gap between Juyeon’s lip, but quickly disappears. As the older has learnt there is no pride left in fighting with the teenager, Juyeon shifts in direction and with the help of his socks, slide defeated against the floor, back to the plastic bag. 

-

All three of them folded out two lonesome blankets scattered in the apartment. It lay on the carpet in the center of the two bed’s. Y/n sat down on the blankets to touch the pillow, but Juyeon insisted on her sleeping in his bed. It took some persuasion, but he smiles so sincerely and talks tenderly that no God could replicate. She accepted and sat on the bed edge. Eric gave her a worn down pajama set from years ago. 

Juyeon’s eyes follow her figure, walking away as he stands with his hands awkwardly to the sides. 

“The shirt is buttoned wrong.” Her vision from the bedroom, back to the kitchen. He stands still, takes one hand to his neck, scratches it gently before letting it fall down to his own shirt. His fingers draw outlines of details of her own and she looks down to see the overlap in fabric, each button forcing the other side higher. 

“Oh.” Y/n frees the first button from the fabric, but it stays in between her fingertips as there is no place to secure it. Juyeon takes a cautious step forward. Where his feet land it makes no creaks and the fall off a button is the loudest thing in the room. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/n instantly comes to the floor and takes up the missing piece from Eric’s shirt. She looks up to him apologetically with the plastic piece hidden in her palm as she reaches her arm towards him. 

“It’s okay.” He takes the button, then walks over to the kitchen counter. Y/n watches how he opens one of the pantries and takes out a transparent pouch with orange highlights. 

“I’ll help you.” He smiles, identical as the sunset shine in winter. It casts cold over skin where there’s no button to cohere fabric. Y/n nods and they walk to his bed, sit by the edge. Y/n’s closest to the pillow end and watches how he opens the zipper to take up a thin needle and a roll of white thread. Juyeon sees her attentive eyes on his hands between the motions. The white thread comes through the metal end and he cuts it off with scissors. Juyeon holds his hands in between them, hesitantly reaching for the open fabric. He locks eyes with her again. 

“Is it okay that I?” With no more than a timid hand motion, he asks. But Y/n understands. She smiles and straightens her posture, separating the front and hair with her hands. Juyeon smiles awkwardly with his lips pressed against each other and the opposite ends curl upwards. He takes the folded edge of the fabric delicately between two fingers and leans closer to her chest. When the sharp end filters the backside, his hand brushes against her skin. Juyeon holds his eyes on that spot on the shirt, but really, her warm breath drapes his head in summer mist. 

After the button falls in a vertical line with the others, Juyeon lies the needle down. He looks at the two sides of the shirt, shriveled and folded in different heights. Y/n herself, once again looks down her front and follows the line, how the fabric separates from the other side. Halfway through, she buttons again, but Juyeon sees instantly how she’s one level too high. 

“I…” His body still in the same place, to attentively listen to the folds in the sheets as to remind himself not to come closer. Juyeon takes his hands onto the end fabric. He coerces together to seal the shadows casted by moonlight onto her skin, their hands brush against each other. The distance between them is incredibly insignificant, in a way that lets her scent intertwine with his own and he hides his face by looking at the hemline. 

His head right underneath her chin, his hair smells delicate, of morning in blooming spring. The top of his head reflects the moon and his faint breath damp on her skin. 

“And it’s done-” 

A sound in greater volume than anything else in the apartment erupts from the other side. Y/n stands up as Eric comes out from the bathroom, his silhouette darker from the warm light coming behind him. Juyeon’s hand diverts back to his own sides. His head slightly tilted up to continue to watch her face and make out the expression above. 

Eric walks through the frame, it creaks slightly as he falls down the covers. Y/n looks again where Juyeon observes her with eyes, reminiscent of the cityscape playing outside. It shines across and paints the brown pupil in a cold color. She smiles slightly and takes another step. 

“Thank you.” She says gently. 

-

When shoes scratch against the hallmat and two voices he has recorded in a secluded part of his brain intertwines, Juyeon leans forward on toes to let a glimpse of their figures reach from the thin wall. He takes a step before the dividing part of the rooms and stares in silence over the rain consumed. Their hair lies slick against their heads and the thin surface of a droplet holds itself like tears underneath their eyes. Soon gathers a darker blemish by the hemline. 

Juyeon immediately runs up to them and feels the water spread from the floor up to his socks. To let his hands immerse in cold rain across the coat arms as he forces them to the bathroom. Though, Y/n insists to wait until Eric’s done as the four walls impend onto them as they stand all three before the bathtub with the sink piercing against their backs. 

Eric sees his reflection in the bathroom mirror, starts violently shake his hair to let off the residing water running down his head. The two others shouts, arms covering their faces to ensure any warmth left on their skins in the bathroom. Y/n let her vision through the passage created by the coat arms when Eric’s laugh parallel between the high ceiling. She feels his arms collide onto her own as he points at Juyeon. The water divided into pairs runs down his forehead, to after his lips. Fringe has fallen flat onto his eyes as the water weighs heavy and all collects at the neck of his shirt as a dark stain. Y/n too, starts to smile before falling into laughter together with Eric. Juyeon stands as if anchored to the bathroom mat pressing his lips in. 

As some minutes in the room pass, they stand three in row with the last person out the hall. Y/n on the floor at the borderline where the bathroom goes to hall, she sits crisscrossed while Eric stands on knees behind her. The coarse fabric of the towel onto her head as Eric treats it like laundry. And at the top of the three stories stands Juyeon, still drenched, more than the others maybe, drying off the excess in Eric’s hair. 

All has dried and the used towels together with the raincoats decorate the bathtub wall. Eric walks to the kitchen as Juyeon tells him there’s soup and Y/n even out the flooded ends of the clothing. Turn around to face the mirror and walk out the door, she stands with her feet in touch with Juyeon’s and the separation between their faces, so trivial that one might condense in another's arm. 

At once, when her essence affects his own, he takes a step back and lifts his arms. There is no distance left and in an instant the cold sink hits his back and Juyeon lets out an ache. Y/n laughs silently and Juyeon turns from the floor up to her face that reeks of lucent perfection. 

“You look like a wet cat.” She laughs gently before reaching down the tub wall. Beside her calf rests an additional towel which she takes and casts over Juyeon’s head. 

Like the fringe of his, it ends just above his eyes and the pupils, infinite golden, look through the opening onto her. Juyeon slightly bends his head down and takes his shoulder closer to his own essence. He tries to hold his eyes open, onto her face that is so close for the first time in his life, but as she follows the wet trails, he closes his eyelids and convulses when she touches his skin down the neck. His head falls back and he whines slightly in which Y/n laughs. 

“Stop being sensitive, Juyeon.” She teases and her arms come above his shoulder and around his head to reach the hair furthest down. Her upper body closes in on his and where the cold water has fallen and fabrics cling onto his skin, he feels warmth. 

“Sorry…” Juyeon says weakly. The spotlights in the ceiling highlight the fragments of rose red around his cheeks. Her existence is so close to his own that he thinks they might merge. Somehow, he curiously opens his eyes to see her still damp hair, reminiscent of early spring. But has to close his eyes over and over. 

Three days outside the window have been in constant motion and the three of them are still in that apartment. Though, for each day Y/n has walked with Eric to school, more students turn attention in the early morning as she walks up the stairs to the second floor. As the pink notes come down to the table surface faster and faster, she has this sensation in her stomach. It grows during silence and when Eric’s at class. It turns into vague whispers and overpowers the ventilation in the right upper corner. It has her out the window and searching for the sun, but at the same time, there’s something so fascinating in watching how the students hold onto their friends as they disappear down the stairs. 

How lovely it is to come in so close contact with love, she thinks. Each sight has her desperately wishing for another and when she hits the arrows bow in two hearts, she runs to the other side to stand at the window front and watch how the world stops for only a second as they make eye contact for the first time. 

Though, as Eric told her. Whispers between the hallways and notes passed between seats. A single motion that sets the butterfly wings in action, spreads winds around the school and she thinks there is only a lone push before someone other than a student comes up the stairs and sees her. 

Y/n sits on the carpet in their apartment during friday afternoon. The warm lamp spreads its familiar light. She counts her bills and coins, and surely has started to build a small tower that goes beyond two centimeters over the flooring. Her palms lean to each side and impend above the paper and silver.  She coerces it all to a pile where the bended edges are in opposite directions. As all the flat slides lie together in her hand and she takes the paper bag, she feels a weight on her own shoulder. A warmth only created by another existence in this season. 

Y/n takes her sight up, onto the only enhanced in the lingering exhaustion of another turn around the world’s axis. At first impression of the scene beside her, she can only see his legs, like delicate lace in the orange light, but as chin touches his silk hair and the scent touches her face. Y/n sees the facial features from upon, the bridge of his nose in between the hair strands. 

Juyeon suddenly perk up. To meet eyes from different directions and see the faint shine in the inner corner from opposite perspectives. Y/n doesn’t speak, but her eyes search his own deeply and when nothing in them seems to gift her question, they follow the shadowed lines down his face to his lips. 

“I feel cold, Y/n.” The weight of his head becomes heavier. 

“I’m not that warm either.” She says gently, still with her hands on the pile. 

Whispers of the apartment and breathing from the alive city, details around them become louder. He finally sighs.

“I don’t know what to do…” His voice mirrors the weak body across her side. Juyeon’s eyes follow the dim corners where lamps can’t reach. Behind the table, against the paper thin wall to divide the bedroom, there is no outline of floor patterns or discolorations. The world sort of fades into that corner. Like the rest of the universe on a certain crossing, falls out of our sight.

Onto his empty chest where he thought nothing could ever reach again, a light pressure of palms to fingers, graze by the shirt before the whole palm encapsulates his sole heart. Juyeon slowly lets his eyes off the horizon at the end of the room and leans his head where her shoulder and neck ends. He watches how she scours his chest from above and feels her hand blur into the chest. 

“Heartbreak.” She hums softly and lets her hand cease over his heart. 

Juyeon still looks up, “You can feel it?” 

Y/n nods and turns to his eyes. The paper between her left hand, she lets them down onto the floor and pushes the rest of them to the side. Her free hand takes his head delicately and his weight off her shoulder. Juyeon complies with her tenderness until his head settle between her lap. His heart, moon touched, and slowly her fingers come in between his hair and in gentle motions brushes. 

To carefully not let his entire body weight on her physical bindings. Though, with that thought he still closes his eyes and feels the hemline of her midnight shirt brush against his cheek. The lids over his eyes open once again and he, in a careful state of trance, watches the slight knit between her eyebrows. His eyes, immense and illuminated, picks apart the features and tilts his head slightly, making the shirt come up her thigh. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks suddenly. Y/n locks eyes with him. Strands fall like rosen vines beside his head. 

Y/n turns back to his chest and stares in wonder over that spot underneath her hand. 

“It’s still very painful…it’s recent?” 

Juyeon lets the night echo along for a moment longer. Her hand in touch with the temperate fabric of his shirt, reaching for the deepest part of his own existence. It stays to be the most audible thing in the room. But somehow, there’s imminent, much greater weight bound between the ceiling and floor. He takes his eyes off her hand and falls back into the crater which her legs create. 

“It was a month ago.” He speaks in a same volume as the detailed city spreading from all directions and encompasses them. 

“She broke up with me, we had a lot of arguments. But we finally stood outside this apartment, and she told me that I don’t make her happy anymore.” Juyeon breathes in, “That there's no love left to give, its run dried.” His head falls to its side and her calf brushes against his cheek. 

How even the pictures from June, where the stone plates hidden in shadow wished to feel like winter as they ran past the piercing sunlight between the green leaves, aches his heart. All the Earth layers pass through him until he ends up at the very last. 

“Your heart hurts a lot, Juyeon.” She watches with knitted eyebrows, the invincible piercing feeling beneath her hand, spreads across her palm. She turns her eyes to him. The tension binding her features disappears slowly, cause; of his delicate expression, painted in care. Another passage of silence.

She whispers and tilts her head, “But you’ll be fine.” 

“I will?” He says with a low voice and immense eyes. 

Y/n closes her eyelids and opens them up again to take apart the faint layer of shine before the pupil. To lean in closer as to see the reflection grow clearer in the curvature.

“I can’t see why?” She tilts her head again before falling back into place, “But in the near future, your heart will heal.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “Are you sure?” 

Y/n nods and suddenly smiles. How the cold sensation of his sick heart falls into fragments when her fingers run through his strands. 

“I’m the love Goddess afterall.” 

The past days, the sun has done a heavy weather rotation around Earth in a perfect instant. Though, somewhere between night and day, the three of them realize it's time to evolve their business. Each dust accumulated over years in waiting has permanently varnished her clothes. The constant sequence of students that runs up the stairwell makes whispers in the hallways, rumors about the ‘woman in the abandoned classroom’ makes it out on student social media.

 Any moment, a post on one of the internet cafes will rise to the top, Eric told her one evening. Y/n uncomfortably took the sheets higher up her shoulders then, but he told her one could fear the inevitable curiosity towards her, or profit off it. His idea was to force the service out of the dusty school and that all three stand on a meeting point beside the city river. Eric sat beside her in the bed and threw off the covers to stand up. She watched how he took the loose pieces of his nightshirt and elongated them like what she assumed was wings. 

“And we’ll have costumes like real sellers do.” He said. 

“Will that really work?” She asked him with a skeptical expression, in which Eric jumped back into the bed. 

“Promise, back in first year of high school, we needed to sell cookies. My friend had a cookie monster costume on for two weeks straight while we told people to buy outside the mall.” 

Y/n’s quiet. 

“We sold the most of any in our class.” 

That night, Y/n didn’t really tell Eric that as long as the moon shines on Earth, there will be a constant light upon her, trailing her steps along the asphalt. That she has during this time, become a traitor of the heaven’s and time.

But because that night passed too, the three of them stand in the metropolitan mall. A city where everyone lives or wishes to. In the vertical path down to the opposite end of the white structure, they are. Glass windows with electric doors down every path and five floors that hound above them. Despite an seemingly endless amount of space, the marble floor is nearly invincible when shoes run like tidal waves above it. 

Y/n stands in trance with her head up to watch the banners come down on them from the highest floor. The golden light doesn’t cast itself like sunset as the artificial studio light leaves no corner hidden. But by a certain tilt of one's head, the heart of the light bulb, a shimmer closer to a star during night, reaches the pupil. 

“I know a good store.” Eric says and takes one step forward, “It’s not expensive there either-” 

Though Juyeon forces him to reverse as he reaches out his hand. Juyeon turns to see Y/n beside him, gaping at the high ceiling and he gently intertwines his other hand with hers. 

“You have your phone on, Eric?”

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“My ringtone gives me panic attacks, should we go or not?” 

“I-” 

“We don’t have all day!” Eric takes the lead by stepping into the crowd. Juyeon comes quickly after and naturally forces Y/n to stop staring at mall decorations. Two different entrances later and a desire to desperately rip off every last layer of clothing, the three of them stand in the store cluster which Eric pointed at. The youngest insists deeply on a store with massive red signs across the windows, indicating an illegally low price, meanwhile Juyeon argues back that it’s smarter to get actual costumes from the party-hell-store next door. 

Democracy isn’t on Eric’s side since Y/n stands with wide eyes, still with Juyeon’s hand in hers. Clearly she didn’t have much of an opinion as her answer when Eric tried to get her on his side was what the hell is a costume supposed to be? As Eric’s store windows had white tees and colored jeans, Juyeon pointed at a mannequin in hot dog costume. 

“They just have stupid stuff there.” Eric complains as they walk into the party store.

“You don’t have to choose the hot dog costume.” Juyeon answers. 

They reiterate the plan and pass the paper plates and party hats down the clothing aisle. Immediately, Juyeon walks to the corner and Y/n watches as Eric stops before her. 

“I want to be a devil.” Eric takes up the rectangular plastic bag. Y/n leans over and sees the model in an awkwardly cut suit, pants with way too tight seams that ends above the ankles, and, the cherry on top, a dejecting pair of plastic vibrant red devil horns.

“No one goes to the devil for love advice.” Y/n complains and continues down the aisle. At the furthest end of the costume section, Juyeon stands between the plastic bags. He holds two different ones, the right one he lifts up so that the spotlight in the ceiling shines atrociously on it. 

For every step she expects to see the awareness in his face as he looks to her side. But instead, he stands with a slight pout while still holding the plastic bag in front of his face. Y/n smiles as she’s a little less than a meter away. To lean on her toes to reach over, catch a glimpse of the front model. 

“Is this how I’m supposed to look?” Y/n tilts her head as she looks at the woman on the front wrapping of the fabrics. Synthetic wings falling off the back with an even cheaper shine over the arrow and bow. The little white dress is dull, though short as the hem ends mid thigh. 

“No, you’re prettier." His answer comes close at the end of her own sentence. His eyes aren’t on hers when he says it, he too looks at the model picture of the packaging. Y/n turns to look at him when his face is still in usual saturation and pout visible.

“Really?” Y/n tilts her head and can’t help but break into a smile. Juyeon looks up and views intertwine. That rose blush stains his skin once again and he scratches the back of his hair profusely. He takes a step back, laying his hands on her shoulders from behind. To turn her head to still watch him, he disappears from her sight and instead, feels a warm weight on her back. The waves of his voice perceive that spot beneath her hair when he speaks. 

“Go and try it on.” His voice is in faint volume as he starts pushing her shoulders gently. 

Y/n laughs, “Okay.” 

At the left direction he prod her, reside three high rectangles in row. Y/n opens the one closest to her and walks in. After she forces the curtain to divide, she hears Juyeon’s voice outside, ensued by a familiar whine. Y/n smiles for herself when the metal rings at the edge hit against the railing as Juyeon tries to force Eric in. 

At last, the velvet closes, and soon, the adjacent walls uncover. Juyeon stands a meter away, watches how Y/n lifts the fabric over her head and the hem takes some of her hair with it. Her feet stay serene, looking down her front while her fingers compress the chemical fibers. 

“I think it’s too big.” She looks up at him. Arms fall to its sides together with the flat line dress. Juyeon’s lips form to speak, but precisely, it intersects with Eric who extracts the curtain and walks out. The shirt reaches down his wrists and radiates an agonizing white shade, the pants, in same shade, drape over his legs. Lastly, the tiny wings and plastic bow in his hand. The halo in his hair sits tilted, folded at the center, beaming in the store light over his displeasure. 

Juyeon and Y/n are silent at the closing seconds of his entrance. But the visor alternate another minute and the two burst out laughing at the same time. Their silhouettes bend to the floor and cover their laughter with right hands. And if the knit between Eric’s eyebrows couldn’t get tighter, even his lips press harder. 

“But you look really cute, Eric.” Y/n coos and walks to him. The side of her palm perceives the veil over his shoulder. He looks down towards her, causes the halo to shake and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’m serious!” She takes the other hand, where she too has a bow, on his opposite shoulder. Eric lets the thin line on his lips loosen a little as Y/n assures him. Though he hears a giggle a meter away, shift to see Juyeon’s phone in their direction. 

“Hey!” The younger runs over to Juyeon who lifts the phone to the ceiling. The little plastic halo above his head flutters as he stands on tip toes while reaching for the screen. 

“No, it’s so good!” Juyeon still laughs and takes the phone behind his back. Eric is left with that same complexion of oddenment on his features as the two laughs. 

“I think it looks good.” Juyeon says after. He points at the ill fitting dress on Y/n but acknowledges Eric got the right size. He says they should go to Eric’s store and get a better white dress. 

“Aren’t you gonna dress up?” Eric throws at Juyeon. 

“You should too.” Y/n complains and points at him with the bow, “We look like idiots, you need to look like one too.” 

Juyeon glance the room and takes a step back, “But I didn't find any in my size.” He affirms with high arms.

“Bullshit, just be an ancient myth man.” Eric, deadpans. 

“There’s no myth man costume.” Juyeon says confused. 

“Then we make one.” 

-

“Isn’t this one lovely?” 

Juyeon looks up and sees Y/n between two racks of aisles. In her hands, a white baby blue dress that she puts against her front as if wearing it. The lace excess attached to the skirt and half length sleeves imitate her own twirls. 

The coloration with his hands falls to the sides as she looks up towards him. Her eyes fixated on him after her question. Juyeon opens his mouth, but takes a breath and his free hands come up the back of his neck. Scratching lightly as he looks towards another aisle with transparent bags. Groups of young girls run past them and he shakes his head, therefore, the fringe comes before his eyes, making his pupils hide in between shadows of his strands. 

“It’s really pretty.” He says shyly and smiles, takes a step closer and forces his chin up a bit higher, “You’re really pretty in it.” 

Y/n takes her palm towards the stomach of the dress and looks down, “You’re honest?” She laughs. 

The hand quickly falls off his skin and top the side of his thigh. The pink coloration saturated into his cheeks are still in full view, but his lips turn pressed and downward. Just as his eyes grow wider and he eagerly nods his head. The strands of his hair follow those precisions and he continues to speak while it falls further. 

“You are.” He repeats in a clear tone which makes her laugh again. 

“Okay, then, I believe you.” 

-

Once the afternoon stood on its last hours, all three had found their costumes. Y/n in a white dress that accumulates at the writs where it tights into a ribbon before the remaining fabric folds out like a flower. It sat under the paper poster for the early spring collection. Juyeon got a shirt in a similar edition. The details on both sort of seamlessly intertwine. When taking a quick look in the passing window stores, the two seem to share sensibility. And then of course, Eric as a baby cupid. 

Juyeon’s hair was in need of a change since the shirt alone couldn’t disclose the intentions behind. He suggested a lovely braid to form around his head, though, neither of the three knew how to braid. Because of that, they sat forty five additional minutes at the mall beside different baby strollers. Juyeon had searched up a braid tutorial, held it before his face, Beside him sat Y/n on her knees and constantly switched from looking at his hair and screen. The result was of partial essence from the original, and with a yellow bouquet they bought before walking, Juyeon looks rather like a flower boy at a wedding than fantastical character. 

At the center of a meeting platform before the river, they stand in line. The yellow flowers together with the synthetic wings on their backs are taken by the wind. Youth in close knitted groups and couples walking hand in hand pass by the metal railing and the bridge connecting to the opposite side. All three have a box of their own and with a breath or two, they separate from the mit and walk over the frozen concrete paving in late afternoon. 

As the unknown always has people afraid, not many notes land in the bottom of their boxes. But as the sun comes down the sky and closes in on the rooftops, people their age become intrigued by the enchantment and put their name together with a bill. As such, pictures of plastic wings spread around corners of the internet with rumors about the magic. 

- 

As the person before her walks to the left, Y/n waves gently as their figure becomes another someone in the crowd. With no close frame in sight, the sun that edges on the horizon, spreads its pink coloration above her vision. Her hand holds the box as a wind comes from the right direction of the city and intertwines itself into her hair. The white fabric of the sheer skirt touches against her skin and the plastic wings lean towards the bridge. And as if the wind became gifted, to affect the significance, a clear pathway towards the edge of the river opens up. 

How both the start and end of a bridge captures in a total frame. The dividing sides of the city in opposite parts of her rectangular vision. Y/n takes a breath and lets the setting sun in final clear sky complete the hues on her face.

When her eyes arrange the disposition and total focus settles onto a silhouette. Y/n’s grip around the box falters and the incoming wind might take the rest of her essence with it this time. The cheap chiffon fabrics wrapped around his body shines of white, just as his close orbit. Though the pigment, only parts of his features stand in highlight as the rest in shadow from the rosy hue above. 

Y/n moves her head suddenly, forcing the loose strands before her eyes to fall towards the side profile. Slowly she takes a step down the clear path, follows the lines in between frozen cracks to where he leans over the railing. Juyeon has his eyes set on a vague point on the horizon. When she, too, stands beside him, she follows the imaginative line of his pupil and fails to make out the disoriented city lines. 

Y/n turns to him, “I haven’t asked you yet.” 

Juyeon turns to her with vast eyes. 

“If you want to write a name.” She holds the pink cardboard box out for him. Her hand shortens distance, but there is still a void to be completed. He stands silent. Let each passing conversation fill that space up until it becomes vague from another direction. The motions in the river, it comes up against the stone they stand on before changing tide. Juyeon looks at Y/n and smiles like he always does as he shakes his head gently. 

She tilts her head. Curiously wander to the pupil of his eye and search for entrance into his mind, but there’s nothing to open. With his aching heart underneath his throat, Y/n expected a certain answer from him, an answer most humans would give. She smiles as wonder entrances her mind when thinking about his own. 

“Okay.” Y/n answers in her usual tone. Take the box back to her own side and like Juyeon, let a part of her weight lean against the metal railing. 

A couple walks them by, hand in hand towards the other bridge in far sight. Juyeon follows them until the color of their shirts fades in between the others. His eyes fall back on Y/n’s frame. Her profile towards the reflection in the water and he contemplates in silence before asking. 

“What happens to all the names people write down?”

Y/n faces him as the question spreads into all directions over the river surface, and when it maybe reaches the opposite end, Y/n stops to tilt her head. 

“They fall in love…or what do you mean?” She knits her eyebrows. 

Juyeon shakes his head and smiles. Watch the scenery behind him where the buildings soar above the open platform and lovers walk hand in hand. Eric sits on a bench, further away, with a stranger probably his own age by the parallel complexion. 

“Do they just fall in love forever or…” to attentively consider details of expressions and body language, his own skin brushes against the cold railing.

“No, they don’t” Y/n shakes her head. 

“Most will probably fall out of love in a week or so…” The curves of her lips have become amicable, he remarks, when Y/n looks at him.

“Maybe one or two couples go on for some months.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, arm over the railing and the weight of his body advances onto it. The flicker between the colors of his eyes reaches for another one, just like it. But at the edge of finding it, she turns her chin down where waves return from the stone, and another wind pulls fabrication before their sight. 

“Why?” He asks curiously. 

Y/n purses her lips in. Her essence stands on physical space but the fragments of thoughts, collecting her being, solely wanders somewhere else. 

“I don’t know why.” The tone is disheartening, “I wish I knew too.” 

“You don’t?” he says surprised, “You’re the love God.” 

“Yeah,” She smiles, “but I’m not good at being one.” 

“Is that’s why you’re here?” He asks gently after silence. 

Y/n’s quiet and completely still for a moment before nodding without giving him a glance. 

“People are getting heartbroken all the time and aren’t finding love, and I can’t figure out why.” She pauses, “Mother’s angry at me.” Y/n lets her chin fall onto the railing and she leans over the cold metal and watches the sun go behind the horizon. 

“I don’t want to live like that, especially since I can’t even do the only thing I was created for.” 

Another silent passage in time, she speaks again. 

“And your breakup last month was probably also because of me.” She looks at him with a smile but eyes of starshine, on the edge of its own death, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“It is.” 

“There’s eight billion people, that’s a lot to put on one person.” 

She looks at him, still leaning on the railing.

“I mean, one being.” He corrects. 

Y/n smiles again in which he too does. 

“You know, for humans you’re never perfect at first try.” He looks out over the river, “For all the professionals, more than talent, they train over and over again.” She looks at him and he stutters while scratching his neck. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” He squints, “Practice makes perfect, you’ve never experienced human life until now, of course it’s confusing.” He pauses and takes a step closer. The view of him comes higher up.

“If you want, I can help you.” Another wind passes, while the same rose color against the sky transmits over to his cheeks.

“Teach you what human love is like,” When she still isn’t speaking he takes a irregular breath, “I’ve had two girlfriends before, a lot of dates, I’m very experienced so you don’t have to-” 

“Okay, I want you to teach me.” Y/n laughs. He closes his mouth once he realizes the diffuse pace of wording. Though, smiles as her clothes strive free with the next breeze. Juyeon’s relieved as Y/n has visibly fallen interested in a shape at the other end. Only in need of his voice to affirm the color, not his red stained warm cheeks.

To a change of a digit by the “Sunday '' written on the phone. Y/n opens her eyes to see morning filtrate through the curtains. Her hands come behind her posture to force herself off the layers of cloth. At Eric’s bed at the other end of the same corner, he lies spread out in total absence. His face is buried within the pillow and his right leg has fallen off the bed and touches the floor. 

Without any sort of considerable intentions, Y/n looks down beside the bed. The thin mattress is still out with an imprint among the creases of the sheet. Despite being devoid of any life, a trail of essence aviates above it. The disarray of plates stacking comes from the open kitchen. Y/n looks towards the window and sees Juyeon roaming through the shelves. 

She herself lets the covers come off her body and accumulate beneath the pillows. With each one of her steps, a creak course through the flooring. With the ceasing distance in intervention, Juyeon feels the faint change on the spot he stands on when her presence comes closer. He looks away from the shelf and sees Y/n, her right hand is up before her eye and he smiles like he always does to her. 

“Good morning, Y/n.” 

“Good morning,” She answers in a quiet tone. 

“Did you sleep well, Angel?” He asks while he lets his head fall down to the counter as he groups in spoons and chopsticks. Y/n blinks a few times and stares at his side profile as he opens the cabinet beneath. 

“Angel?” She tilts her head and Juyeon looks back at her. 

“Yeah, Angel?”“I always used Love, but I think you fit Angel better.” 

“Oh, okay.” She tilts her head still and squints her eyes at his frame. He seems to detail that there’s something still left to be said, so he looks back at her again. 

“Am I supposed to call you something too or?”

She asks him with genuine perplexity and he remembers again, that she’s not human. He smiles. How magical, he thinks, that someone that bears on enchantment and bliss to change his state of life in seconds, stands before him. Juyeon has never really believed in gods, even now he isn’t particularly drawn to religion, but Y/n in her otherworldly enchantment but relatable demeanor seems to come beyond any sort of devotion. 

“Only if you want. It’s called pet names, it's common between couples.” 

Her eyes widen, “People see each other as pets? Like those dogs they’re out walking?” Y/n gestures with her hand onto the floor. The new information is rather unsettling, how much of the human love she didn’t understand, she thinks. 

Juyeon laughs and comes closer to her, “No.” He takes his hands onto her shoulders while her eyes are still appalled. 

“Or some couple out there probably. "But not most.” 

“Why pet names?” 

He thinks, “I don’t know, it’s cute? Pets are cute, so you’re cute.” 

“Okay.” Y/n seem to only half accept his explanation. 

“Can I still just call you Juyeon?” She asks. 

“You can,” He pouts, “Though, no one has ever given me a pet name.” 

She smiles, “No one?” 

“I always ask them to give me one, but they don’t.” He sulks. 

“I like your name, it’s pretty. I think it fits you.” 

The picture before her, as she’s still in his hands. The sprout from which his hair blossoms, faces her, but in the ending sequence of her sentence, his face comes up in height with hers. The sulk, seized by the floor. He smiles again in which she tilts her head. 

“You’re really simple, Juyeon.” She laughs and takes a step back. By the nature of the motion, his hands fall off her shoulders. Juyeon stands in vertical posture once again and concentrates on the ends of his lips, so as to not pout again. 

“I’m not.” He says quietly. Before he turns his head back to the counter, though, Y/n catches the remote sulk formed underneath his nose. 

Sometimes through the hits against the counter surface and pans, they hear Eric turn sideways and wrap his body in another round of fabrics. She looks from the cutting board to the beds and Juyeon notices. He tells her that there is no use in low volume, that the entire building could start shaking and his consciousness would not move an inch closer to its physical state. 

As he stands beside her and goes between the stove and cutting board to show her how to cut the vegetables. The broth in the pot simmers, damp heat comes up in his face and spreads onto the metal spoon as he brings it down. Juyeon tastes the broth first before taking it down a second time. He holds his free hand underneath the spoon and turns to Y/n’s. Her hair has fallen before that side of her face. Only when those strands come to the back of her ear, she looks away from the white plastic and towards Juyeon. 

Being conditioned to fall back, Y/n leans away from his close hands. Sees a single steam grow like rosen stems during spring, Juyeon comes closer to the spoon and blows on it. Y/n’s eyes are small when they intertwine with his own. 

“Try it.” He says in his sweet voice. 

“Can’t I just…” The free hand on her other side hesitantly reaches for the spoon. 

“I’ll feed you.” 

Her face turns to the left as if to gesture him a no, but when he looks at her with those pearl glance eyes. Y/n sighs and leans forward. His hand comes under her chin and he helps her by tilting the spoon a little. Y/n’s own hand comes up to Juyeon’s who holds it before she returns to her own place. 

“It’s good.” 

-

Eric left the cramped apartment soon after eating. The sun’s out the entirety of the weekend and his friends had sent messages all night to meet on Sunday. Y/n went to bed again after eating, lying on the outer side and with the sheets at the very end of the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, watches hidden shadows in patterns. Though, steps on the floor cross onto the carpet and soon after, she feels the weight on the mattress shift. Y/n turns to look at the change, and when her cheek falls into the pillow, Juyeon’s eyes are there to meet. 

Y/n sits up and takes one of her legs off the height, but Juyeon takes her arm. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I thought you wanted to lie here?” 

“No, I wanted to be here because you were.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s comfortable.” He smiles, “Couples do it all the time.” 

“Are you serious, or are you just using that as an excuse because I let you teach me about human romance?” She squints his eyes at him, in which Juyeon forces his head from the mattress and reaches his hand out for her upper arm. He shakes his head while laughing quietly, reiterating that he speaks truth. Y/n can’t keep the stale expression when he smiles so deeply and the pillow pushes his hair closer to his face. Eventually she lets his arm pull her down fully again. 

“Do people just lie like this?” Her hands rests over her stomach where the ruffles of the shirt accumulate. A tilt of her head in a direction closer to his existence, but nowhere in full sight does she get a glimpse of even a hair strand, just the ceiling in sunlight from the curtains. 

“Sometimes.” Juyeon answers. He turns his head fully and so does Y/n. Their chin rests on the light blue stripes, folded where the weight are. 

“Sometimes it’s very comforting doing nothing with the one you love.” 

“Why?” 

Juyeon takes his hands in between the pillow and his chin, “Love needs no words.” His voice is gentle, passing her ears like the faint brush of the new washed sheets against her upper calf. A vague nod comes from her side as they still look at each other.

Juyeon suddenly breathes a little stronger, “But other times we do this.” 

Y/n doesn’t get to high her eyebrows or part her lips. The hands underneath his chin forces his weight off the pillow and Y/n feels him lean towards her side. He sits up fully and in the same duration from her eyelid closing and opening, Juyeon has taken his hands down her arms and neck, fervently tickling her. 

The expression of confusion painted by her features turns to a desperate smile as she tries to escape his attack. To kick her leg onto the sheets beneath her and shout Juyeon’s name as his laugh becomes louder for every centimeter the fabric falls down the bed. To not let her escape, Juyeon unconsciously sets his knee on the other side of her body. Her figure stays in between his own frame as she falls deeper down the pillow. 

“Juyeon, stop, I’m serious!” Y/n laughs in panic. 

Eventually his hands come to rest beside her upper arms and the laughter turns to heavy breathing. Juyeon faces from above, still smiling, as Y/n lies with the side of her face against the pillow. That until she stares at him, while fully hidden between his own complexion. Each of her breaths comes to him like the green leaves during spring. Just as the incident, the rose color of flowers in small sprouts bloom on the side of his face. Y/n looks down from his eyes, just one centimeter in distance to see the saturation. She smiles again. 

“You’re always so red, Juyeon.” 

Juyeon takes his head further against his chest to hide it, but there is no use. She laughs lightly as his hair falls before his eyes and he is forced to shake his head when he comes back up. They look in silence at each other's features. Mere sunlight comes in between the thin curtains and cats itself over the shadows. Dust from the sheets cease between the space and Juyeon leans in a bit closer. The shine in her pupil comes all the higher in her coloration as his lips are above hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He speaks gently. 

Y/n laughs again and shakes her head. Seconds cruelly pass them where they lay enchanted in white-blue sheets. The sounds of folding fabric beside her ears, without visual frame she imagines a butterfly at the breaking of dusk, to spread its wings before full sun. But truly, it’s purely, without decorations, Juyeon’s hands beside her body that flutter at the closing distance between them. 

He who always leaves a space in between, Juyeon lets his head fall closer to hers. The pace is incredibly cruel, but so sympathetical, as he stops where they can see each other’s flaws and their breath dampens the other's lips. Time stands so pianfully still when he waits for Y/n to say or do anything. He looks into her eyes, searches for something, but she tries to use the parted distance between her lips but nothing comes out. 

There’s a sort of apprehension somewhere between all of her physical essence. But it dies with every second. In the dilemma playing faintly before her eyes, in the background she sees Juyeon’s eyes come further away from hers. The sensation of guilt and fear were on the verge of death, and fall flat line in an instant. As to desperately not make him disappear, Y/n takes her hands up from her sides. Juyeon gasps quietly when gently holding his face. 

And at last, when she takes him back to her, Juyeon lets his weight on his hands shift to his right knee as their lips collide. Y/n falls a centimeter further into the stripes of the pillow case. It creases at the edges. The pattern changes in structure when Juyeon brings his knee up a bit further. In a boundless room devoid of sounds, the kiss lingers between the four walls. 

As Juyeon gently takes his tongue out for hers, Y/n trace the lines of his features up to his hair. Their mouths are just a little open when she intertwines her hand through his strands. The tips of his fingers scratch against the surface. Through the slight space in between their lips, Juyeon whines. It trails through her clothing and hearten her hand to force the strands tighter around her skin to hear him again. 

And as they encourage the other to fall in closer, the room that had been detached from space and time comes back. The door echoes through the apartment and folds of clothing come after. Before any footsteps close into the kitchen, Y/n’s hands fall back to the mattress and Juyeon throws himself off his arms and lands on his previous place. When Eric comes into the kitchen and lets his eyes span over the details he sees everyday, he stops at their bed. Arms completely down their sides and face up against the ceiling. Eric knits his eyebrows. 

“Are you trying to teach Y/n magic tricks?” Eric asks. 

Juyeon lifts his head from the pillow to look at him. 

“Don’t even try, she’s literally immortal.” Eric goes to the sink and takes a cup. 

“I didn’t even-” Juyeon defends. 

“I’m not immortal?” Y/n cuts Juyeon off by lifting up her head in the same manner to look at Eric. He’s already on his second glass of water. 

“You know what I mean, mythical creature and the unfunniest person alive.” Eric smiles. 

“I think I’m funny.” Juyeon defends and turns his head to look at Y/n. 

“I’m funny?” 

Y/n laughs a little as he looks at her with vast eyes, “When you try not to; yes.” 

He pouts and turns the other way, in which Y/n laughs fully. To turn her own silhouette and let her free hand reach out for his shoulder. 

- 

Y/n takes her legs off the mattress. It creaks when she stands fully on the carpet and it faintly lingers when she walks out the kitchen and further down the hallway. Juyeon, who lies beside her, compels to feet and without any obligatory commands, starts walking after. Y/n looks behind her once to see him trail the invincible steps along her. She takes the bathroom handle and looks at him again. He stands close to the opposite wall, right eye wearied. And the scene, in static vision for another passage, until Y/n tilts her head and asks him;

“Are you coming with me in or?” 

Even with a question fully spoken in between the takes, Juyeon looks at her with the expression he always has. But like February into March in reversion, his eyes widen and he takes a step back. Juyeon says something Y/n can’t decide if it were comprehensible words. When in no trance, he disappears from the hall, out the kitchen and back onto the bed. She knits her eyebrows while staring at the serene flooring before she closes the bathroom door. 

Eric sits in his bed with his phone, but tears his eyes off the screen when Juyeon comes back after only a minute. The older pays no intention of looking to the side and Eric sees him shaking his head before falling onto the mattress. The short video clip on his phone rewinds again as he smiles for himself. 

“I never knew you would be such an attention seeker when your girlfriend left.” Eric looks towards Juyeon. He has his arms crossed over his chest while in his own corner of the world. 

“I’m not.” Juyeon protests. 

Eric snorts which makes Juyeon look at him, “Yeah, and I’m Jacob Elordi.” 

The younger scrolls to the next short clip before talking again, “Come on, you can’t even be two meters away from her. I see how your arm twitches of starvation from her just being in the bathroom.” 

Juyeon takes his hands from his chest, letting them spread out before the background, “They’re not at all.” 

He takes the phone in his other hand, rises so that the sheets fall off his upper body. Eric lifts the pillow higher before he falls down to feathers again and watches the blue light radiate off his screen. 

“Either way, I support your future marriage with Y/n, I could even be the flower boy.” 

“We’re-I-” He stutters and looks at Eric who snickers at the screen, “I just think she’s nice.” 

Eric refrains from throwing more comments across the room. Instead continues to mindlessly consume the massive subtitles on screen. Soon after when the bathroom door opens, the audio from Eric’s phone has rewinded across twenty times and Juyeon walks up to his edge. Eric lies with eyes closed and lips slightly apart while his hand with the device hangs off the bed. Juyeon pushes the turn off button and it becomes quiet in the apartment. 

As Y/n walks across the kitchen area, Juyeon straightens his posture. A sudden burn comes between his throat as he looks down. The fingers of his right hand touch the spot that grows with itch. The sensation makes him want to further reach his hand through the skin and scratch what bothers. He coughs when Y/n comes to the line crossing the kitchen and bedroom. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” 

Juyeon turns from the corner where Eric lies and sees Y/n with her head tilted. He coughs again before facing her fully. 

“Yeah, I must catched a cold or something.” He reassures. 

That afternoon, evening boundary, pink encloses orange in softly curved patterns. How the sunset at the very peak of its livelihood, soon will bleach from the celestial and leave nothing but those stars holding hands in constellations to remind us that it was there. And as it shines over the edge of the river, hangs lowly over the open square, Y/n walks over to Eric sitting alone on one of the seats at the center of the open space. A passing wind intertwines like ribbons through their hair, braid them in irregular patterns before letting go. Eric feels the essence of another identity under the collapsing sun enter his field. 

He looks beside his left shoulder and sees Y/n smiling, though, it might just be the sunset, but there’s a whimsical bearing to her expression in plastic wings. 

“I realized you haven’t written a name.” He turns focus from her eyes down to the pink box as she holds it close to him. 

“You don’t have anyone you like?” She asks. 

Eric’s quiet for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. Her silhouette stands in contrast to the setting sun. Each shine streak runs into the river and reflects like a horizontal mirror. The outline of her shoulders divides the flicker, causing him to squint. Y/n herself let the box fall onto her thighs. When another wind comes, a short lived reflection on his hair passes by. Cupid tilts her head and observes his features. A visible lack of emotion and eyes on a dead tree. Another group of people walk down the river and Y/n smiles again. 

“Seems like it.” She says. 

Eric suddenly asks, “Can you write down someone else’s name? Two people you want to be together?”

She looks at the box then back at him, “Usually no, but I’ve already interfered in enough lives.” Y/n takes up the pen and pink paper, “Try.” 

Eric takes the pastel note and presses the synthetic end on his palm. When he gifts it to her, he sees her smile grow wider as she reads it. Eric’s lips too, like a wildflower during the incoming flourish season, grow as she laughs a little. On the piece of paper stands two names, Y/n and Lee Juyeon. She let it descend down the thin opening of the box. While still looking down at the space created by cardboard, she speaks. 

“That won’t work, though.” Y/n speaks gently. 

Eric tilts his head suddenly, keeping his hands at the edge of the bench. 

“Why?” 

“I’m not human, right?” She still smiles, but Eric’s has withered. 

“I don’t understand, gods and humans can’t be together?” 

Y/n shakes her head, “No” She shifts in her place, “It’s just, the rules don't work as they normally do, it might end up bad.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just bad, not fun…it’s not important.” Y/n takes her hand before her face, standing up and locks eyes. 

“Juyeon will be fine.” 

For days closest to present, that itch at the very bottom of his throat has become stronger. Each night he touches the spot where it hurts the most, and his fingers trails higher for every night. The other day Juyeon surrendered and went to the pharmacy. He took coughing medicine, but at last he stands before the hand sink, throwing lilac flower petals. The first time, he stood perplexed and backed away until his calf hit the tub. 

At the same time, he thinks about what Eric said to him, that day of the kiss. While the hours pass them by he always finds himself having music on or cleaning dishes, searching for job applications. Cause, when neither of them are with him, and there is little to no sound to surround him, those scenes play before him. 

It was night and he turned to the other side of the floor. He searched coughing flower petals. In immediate blue links, informative paragraphs describe the cases of physical effects of a yearning heart. The pictures showed strangers with flowers in shades scattered over white sinks. His heart picked up pace before he shut off his phone and forced his eyes closed. He has the love goddess beside him to lead him, but it only aches to think that he stands alone at the edge of the bridge, longing for the other end when it doesn’t reciprocate. At midnight, he’s forced to accept his heart's admiration for Y/n. He refuses to let the knife remove the love out of his body, instead, begs in moonlight for fate to spare them. 

- 

There’s a gentle touch over his head. It reverses before it comes back. A sharp point between his hair strands and further down where his neck starts. As his eyes are still closed and mind in a different dimension, he doesn’t register how he slowly starts to lean towards the touch every time it disappears. Eventually, the moonlight cast at the other wall becomes apparent and he sees Eric’s silhouette beneath it. It shines of city lights in the furthest window above the kitchen. 

Behind him, he hears soft creases of fabric lines. It comes from the material in his own bed, but his arms are at the front side. There’s a faint opening between his eyelids and he feels the touch linger down his cheek until it trails to his chin. It tickles when it gently outlines his nose. Once Juyeon opens his eyes fully, he tries to look up. On that side of him, a startled motion comes between the soft folds and the warmth on his face stills. 

All shadows leisurely adjust and he makes out the room. But in that space, left of his mattress and frame of carpet sits Y/n. He recognizes her features in turned axis shimmer and traces her upper arm down to her hand on his face. She still caresses his cheek when they look at each other. When Juyeon takes his hands to either side and forces himself up, the fabric sounds violent as a shadow covers the cast on the wall. He watches how she quickly makes her way out the kitchen. 

He can’t describe why, when his mind is half asleep and his body cold of the thin fabrics. Though, he does fully take off from the mattress and follows her. He sees her figure disappear through the bathroom door and when she stands to see her reflection in the mirror, Juyeon leans his hand on the edge of the door. Y/n looks at him when he walks in. There’s a meter in between them, and she tries to keep the same distance as he closes the door gently and walks forward. 

At some point, her back hits the cold wall and Juyeon, with some space still separating them, reaches for her left hand off her side. Y/n’s quiet when he brings it to the blossom of his head. He leans down so that she subtly makes out the shadows beneath his fringe. Juyeon gently ushers her hand to mirror those motions from a minute ago. Where the whole cityscape stands in silence, the clearest thing spoken through the barrier is the sigh of relief Juyeon does when her hand reaches his neck. 

He lets his knee rest where the divide forms between her own. How his soft breaths affect her own person. Cause eventually Juyeon separates his hand from hers as she on her own starts to touch his hair. For each caress along the silk, her palm continues deeper onto his neck. At last, her fingers reach where the collar of his shirt starts. To be touched even faintly in a place unaffected for so long, he whines. His head that faces the floor lands underneath her chin. The cheap shampoo reaches her nose and his breath dampens the spot above her collar. 

The ends of his hair scratches against her skin and, by consequence, her other hand comes to the center where his shoulder and neck meet. 

With the door closed, there’s no light source from any of the quiet corners. But for each breath they both take, he becomes all clearer. His face is buried underneath her while his body leans as close. The contrast of the painfully cold wall and the heat spreading from his essence. It’s so deeply attractive in her eyes, how he folds when she reaches her fingers a step further down his shirt. The quiet whimpers get muted in her neck. She desperately wants to hear it again, the hand from his shoulder and outlines his neck up to his chin where she lets her thumb caress the skin before coming back down to the shoulder. 

“Y/n, fuck.” He moans cruelly onto her skin. It creates some free room between her hand and his shoulder when he falls down to his knees. The warmth that has accumulated above her chest, turns instant cold when there is no barrier before the grading temperature. 

Her eyes naturally follow his own which are locked on the edge of her sleeping wear. Where the muted pattern convulse into each other and a harsh line before her own skin. Juyeon timidly takes his fingers onto that edge. All warmth in his body rushes to the inner parts, there is nothing but cold on his fingertips when they for a moment touch beneath her stomach. Juyeon looks up, the color in his eyes comes through the fringe and his hand flexes when holding onto her sleeping wear. 

“I want to-can I?” He stutters profusely while looking into her eyes. It’s not enough light for the pigment on his upper face to reflect back into Y/n’s own vision. He looks away and faces the wall of the bathtub. 

Y/n’s own chest has started to pick up pace while a limited gap between her lips forms to afford it. The lid on her eyes closes and opens profusely as he refuses to state the expression on his face. The inpatient motions with the urge to not look at her, she desperately wants him to say it when her mind runs to try to comprehend it. 

“Sorry, Juyeon, I really don’t understand.” 

Her hand still in laces with his own essence starts to gently advance across the back of his head again. He sighs when she reaches a sensitive spot down his neck and brings his head back. It affects her mind deeply so that her own physical state falls on the wall behind her and shifts her right leg. 

“Please, I want to make you feel good.” He holds his head high to maintain the contact. The fabric of her shorts comes tighter around her waist when he pulls it again. 

“I want to lick your…” He whispers to her, in a volume equal to the sounds coming from her hands in his hair. Y/n nearly reaches down to mute his words, but the desire to shift her leg again blinds those thoughts and she nods. 

“I want you too, Juyeon.” 

Her words seem to have freed the chain off him and gently lets the two layers of fabric touch her thighs down to her calves. Juyeon takes his own hand up her waist and the other around her left leg. To carefully, as if made out of velvet he forces her up onto his shoulder. Y/n tears her eyes away from him and falls head against the cold hard wall when goes in between her thighs. The soft changes in direction from his tongue and the careful advances as he watches her reactions from below. 

The hand on his hair becomes tighter when the sensation goes inside her two walls for even a second. There’s constant shame as she lets him completely mend the soar spots with a part of his existence. She can’t tell if Juyeon feels it too, but to never let her eyes be open for more than a second, because when her head falls onto the wall and her eyes stare up the ceiling. An invisible but cruel rain falls onto her from above, a circle of faces from her youth watches how one of their own crumbles before a human. 

“Juyeon.” 

She strokes his head once again and Juyeon closes his own eyes. Y/n has been forcing her lips shut of fear to hear her own sounds echo in between the walls. But at last, when he grips onto her calf a bit stronger and the end of his hair brushes up against her thighs, a cry of pure bliss comes between her lips while her hips move forward. Juyeon continues with his lips to let the sensation gently fade. 

Y/n breathes heavily while still leaning onto the wall. Juyeon comes up from the floor and lies one hand on her shoulder. With eyes closed, reminiscent of weekend morning when her own self is far from the body, lovely gathered in his worn down sheets. How Juyeon solely comes closer to make the pixels of her features clearer and discover the secret appearance, one who is only this close can make out. 

Y/n finally opens her eyes and there is barely a distance between them. Juyeon has let go of the space and has his entire front against her own. There’s a firmer impression in contrast to the rest of his body. It pushes onto her lower stomach in timid motions. Her arms embrace herself as she smiles and laughs suddenly. 

Juyeon lets out an embarrassed laugh and forces his head under her chin again. A faint ‘no’ escapes, barely audible, which causes her own eyes to look over the line in which his hair grows. And she forces him from her chest just a little. His sight is still in lock with the floor and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’ll do it now.” 

As she takes his hand, directs to the bathtub and pushes him gently down the cold material. Whatever’s left of the world becomes merely a singular. When the last lights of the cityscape passes through the visual horizon at the end of the universe, Y/n lets herself on top of him fully and takes her hands onto his face while staring in deep adoration with no sense of responsibility. 

Truly she feels her heart pick up a pace she never thought was possible when creating friction onto them both with easy advances of her hips, and the back of his head falls against the edge. With no other light visible, a single star burns off in the upper left corner when he opens his right eye to look at her. 

Juyeon feels the fabric enclose him painfully underneath her and he moans desperately. To force himself up from the edge, he holds his hands on the sides of the tub and comes precisely under her own lips. Y/n continues to fall back in motion while Juyeon tilts his head up to take her lips. Tension tears off like two desperate sides of a rubber band and Juyeon takes his hands on her hips. To take his knee up higher to force her chest closer to his own. 

Behind the door, there's nowhere to go, he wishes for them to continue being in this place, this emotion. 

Juyeon trails hands up to her waist. To get on his knees and gently make her come in contact with the white tub. Her hair spreads out the sides of the curvature and his mouth comes agape when he watches her eyes, in what he hopes is at least brief adoration. 

Once again he puts his hips into her own. Timidly pushes against her through all the layers of fabric and breathes out. Y/n lifts her own leg up to make room for the climbing friction between them. Juyeon sighs and lets his head fall down, in which Y/n takes her hands through his hair and moans. 

She can see his expression, and he looks as divine as he sounds. She soothes the side of his head and tilts her head before whispering. 

“Juyeon?” 

He moans again and pushes his hips harder into hers. 

“My name sounds lovely when you say it.” He pauses to breathe again, “Please say my name again?” 

Y/n swallows and the pupil of her eye comes in between him, the friction soon the wall behind them. So quietly but still enough so he can hear how she calls his name again. 

“Juyeon…” 

A pleasure hits him through his spine and he moans again while holding onto nothing with his other arm. The constant humping makes her not glide down the bathtub and when he carelessly starts pushing his hips against her, at a pace faster than before. Y/n takes her hand from her side and forces it into the small space between them. He throws his head back when the layers of fabric come tightly against him. In nearly instant, Juyeon fucks his hips into the cloth in her palm. 

Y/n doesn’t take her eyes off as she’s determined to see him fall down and rests on her chest. 

“Y/n…” 

She answers in melody. 

“I need to see you come, all undone for me.” 

As the shorts and underwear lie serene on the carpet beside them, her head falls to the edge. Her hand comes to his face and he takes the hem of his pants off as he misses her. Though it aches with impatience, Juyeon’s eyes shimmer in hands, cupped by Y/n. Every motion he does in pleasure, as if handcrafted. It sores from watching him wither above. Y/n nods again, whispers to please see him wilt in cause of her. 

He fills her completely when they come as close as possible. The first thrusts are painfully slow as he edges on relief but desperately wants to feel her warmth. Y/n urges him to fasten the pace as she falls down the wall. He holds his eyes on Y/n like she will save him as he thrusts harder. 

“Please, Y/n, you look so beautiful.” His legs twitch, “I need to see you…” 

His words falter as she cries out for a second time. He slows down in pace, staying amidst the warmth as the high washes over her. On precise edge, Y/n takes her hand onto the material and forces herself off him. Though the pleasure still affects her, she reaches her hand out where it hurts the most. She strokes him just merely. Juyeon’s eyes are closed and he cries from pleasure and wet stains her skin. The sight of him desperately saying her name and convulse in pure bliss might live on for an eternity. He continues with slow motions in her hand, moving the stains up the rest of her hand before the wave falters. 

Juyeon gently descends his head beside hers. The right arm out of the pushing under his weight and he lies it underneath her head. The two of them close their eyes while listening to their breath echo throughout the bathroom. 

Though, as the world comes back into place and Y/n opens her eyes to see the ceiling, she thinks about the windows outside. It goes chills through her essence when she looks at a the ventilator. Juyeon’s breathe are soft on the side of her face and she still console his hair. She desperately wants to lie beside him for as long as time lets them. Turn her face to see his blissful features look back at her own. 

But for every second, reality moves closer. How her escape from above might put him once again in pain. The scene from when Eric put their names on his note comes back to her in a form of a distant but cold wave. 

Fate doesn’t have them, she thinks before sitting up. The change in atmosphere comes suddenly to Juyeon who lifts his upper body when she climbs out the tub, takes on her cloth and goes to the door. 

“Where are you going?” She obscene herself before turning. He sits like she left him and the withered shine in his eyes that yearns for her burns the side of her heart. Y/n puts her other hand on the handle and looks down without a clear expression. 

“I’m really tired.” Her voice is low, putting a further distance. 

“Oh, okay.” Juyeon looks down.

Of course he’s so perfect, she thinks and opens the door wider. To set her feet out before she returns and see his sunken posture, watching the patterns at the bottom of the tub. Y/n bites her lips. 

“Don’t sleep in the bathtub tonight.” She says and Juyeon looks up, giving her a smile reminiscent of the one he always gives her. 

“Don’t worry about me.” 

Y/n nods and takes a step out again and shuts the door, not fully closed.

“Thank you.” She says, before at last leaving. 

When the divide amid the handle and frame becomes non-existent and each step of her bare feet recites from the floor back to her, she sees the rising moon in the corner of the window, fade from view as dark clouds pass by. There’s no liquid moonlight cast on the kitchen counter, and the metal in the sink emits no starfall reflection. 

She takes the hand that holds the only visual significance of the scene in the bathroom, and her other hand on the tap. The white stains run off her hand and weave together with the water. She watches the colors of morning gloom after rain, before it all eventually disappears down the drain. Y/n closes the tap, when her hand is left on the metal and she watches the lone drops of water that's left. It feels as if a part of her essence might have gone down with it, leaving her left at the edge of the world. 

Y/n hasn’t stayed in one place since she came down from Olympus for more than a few days. The date of the calendar has passed three days longer than planned, but why does she find this city so astonishingly more beautiful than any other place? She closes her eyes and maybe the ache in her heart will flow down the metal pipes like how she saw. But at last, her hand falls off the tap. 

Maybe hope will win, she thinks. The only thing left to believe in, the only thing that will save the three of them. If she goes to sleep in this state of heart, she hopes for their good life that Juyeon sits in the bathtub yearning for the woman he did a few days ago. She hopes no stems grow through his skin and to, as the love goddess and not Y/n, not see him fall to the floor as the power she rules consumes him from within. 

-

“You’re awake?”

To turn to the opening between two walls and see the table in the middle of it. The sun is already up. Juyeon takes his hand from his back to above his eyes, in the cause of  blinding gray light. 

“Yeah, I-” Juyeon sits up and starts walking out the kitchen. Eric and Y/n sit on either side and he stands beside them and looks down the plates. 

“You cooked?" Did you burn anything?” He asks Eric in which he shakes his head and points at Y/n while his mouth is full. 

“No, Y/n did.” 

As she sits on the opposite end from where he’s looking, Juyeon shifts his vision. The golden brown of the bread leaves trails of grease on the tips of her fingers and when she too looks up at him, scenes from last night pass through his peripheral vision like they tell you at the edge of death. Juyeon looks away before any visual traces will be sighted on his face. And as he scratches his neck, Y/n comes up from the chair and goes to the counter. When he feels the faint touch of her free hand on his back, Juyeon looks over his shoulder and sees the plate in her hand. 

“I did one for you too.” Her hand leans the plate out for him and Juyeon hesitantly takes it, “I tried to remember what you have on it, hopefully I got it right.” Y/n smiles and gets down to her seat once again. 

The vast eyes of his observes her eating before turning down to look at his own plate. How each of the green and red vegetable layers follows the same patterns as he usually does. 

Though, in truth, as he takes a bit of the sandwich, a sort of warmth trails down the sore spot. In one way he just thinks the sleepiness is coming off, but in between all the superficial, in the hidden part of his heart, he wants to fall to his knees and shout that Y/n hasn’t abandoned him. That there is hope left for them. 

“Eric?” Juyeon has hands on his knees. Eyes turn away from the speckles of color running across the concrete. And when they land on the younger sitting beside him, Eric has his towel in his hands, throws it above his shoulder. 

Eric hums and looks at Juyeon. 

He plays football in a building further away when school’s over. Sometimes memories return from that unchanged landscape. The sun wore bleachers and the synthetic grass field that spares its color no matter season. At some point, Juyeon didn’t need to follow him and wait on the bleachers. 

Juyeon came here as the clock reached noon. He took one stop earlier off the bus and walked to the entrance of the building in light blue paint. And Eric sat like he always has done, on the same place four rows above the grass. 

“What’s a good gift to a girl?.” He asks finally. The inner corner of Eric’s eyebrows closes in together as he doesn’t say anything. Simply stares at the one, a row under before his lips curl at its sides and Juyeon throws his face in his palms. 

“Ohhhhh!” 

Eric’s shoulder veiled in damp shirt material comes closer to his own before the younger takes the towel. He turns it in the air so that cold wind comes down on Juyeon. The one with a towel over his head starts swinging it closer and Juyeon doesn’t get to protest before the damp fabric runs across his face. 

“When did you become like this?!” Eric’s eyes, immense as his back falls into a curve to reach down where Juyeon hides. 

“Why am I proud?" Eric asks himself as he puts an arm around the older and lets his head high to once again see the bleachers in the lower end become steeper and the artificially green grass spread from one end to the other. 

“You didn’t answer.” Juyeon scratches the back of his hair, still with his own features a little nearer empty space down the bleachers. 

“What should I give her…a girl?” Juyeon corrects himself. At the end line where the side of the field ends and two planes of the bleachers start, he sees Eric’s feet come into frame and turns towards that direction. The shoelaces have blemishes of black hues and the neon color itself has run with rain water down the drains. Four depressing shades of fabrics in the same motion of how he kicks his feet back and forth, reminiscent of the end leaves of a dying plant. 

“I know it’s Y/n so we can start from there.” Eric answers and leans forward, “So what should you give Y/n?” 

Juyeon sighs again and lets his face in between his hands while falling forward. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.” 

Eric continues to look down on his shoelaces, “I mean, you know her well, you can’t figure out at least one thing?” 

Juyeon shakes his head. 

“No wonder she broke up with you.” He says to himself and the older takes his face up from his hands and stares at him with deadpan. 

“Okay, too soon.” Eric takes up his hands above his head. 

“I don’t know, chocolate, that’s classic. A movie ticket to a romance movie? She’s the god of love – or new clothing, she doesn’t have much clothes.” Eric starts to look up at the high ceiling but jumps one step away on the bleachers as Juyeon stands up and gasps. 

“I know, I– thank you, see you!” 

Eric holds his arm closer to his own body, all while Juyeon jumps down the four rows and disappears along the white edge of the green field. The heavy metal door at the side of the building echoes throughout the empty walls. 

His eyes linger on the cold metal doors. There’s butterflies in his stomach, and not for himself, but for his brother. The slight change in atmosphere in their limited apartment, and the expressions of Juyeon’s face seemed to have cleared with the sky. Truly, Eric thinks, Y/n being a goddess or not, she cast a spell on their life and made him look at the sunset in an angle never perceived before. If she could stay with them, with Juyeon, a little longer, he might actually believe he gets to see flowers bloom in spring. 

Though, ever since he wrote their names on the note and she told him it’s not possible. He looks at his brother, when he melts to his knees and reaches out to touch her. The severe words she uttered that evening. In her otherworldly complexion, there’s a shadow she desperately tried to hide from him that day. Eric knows more than anyone, even more than Juyeon himself, that their  love is inevitable. But a part of him hopes still, that the thing she fears so deeply, is merely a projection, and that if he doesn’t tell Juyeon, the three of them might get what is closest to “forever”. 

As Y/n came to them in the last weeks of December, she noticed the decorations of warm light scattered across every avenue. Eric told her on the bus once that they celebrate the passage of a new turn around the sun. That whole ride until the final glass cubicle, she told questions in which Eric eagerly answered. Juyeon and Eric, promised Y/n to take her to the center city when the sky’s shimmer. 

They’ve walked all three down the street alleys. There’s a light from every restaurant and in the few open balconies and windows, music blasts through the street. She’d never seen so many shoes on the same platform. How it causes ripples in puddles, forces the mall entrance doors to stand open eternally and the constant, city conversations integrate. 

None of them took much down to the festival, Juyeon told her to dress up but there’s not much in her limited closet that would pass as festive attire. While she herself went with the shirt she always wears, it itched in Juyeon’s fingers to give her paper blue bag beside the bed. When down the street she pointed towards it, asked him why he’s carrying a bag. Juyeon took the excuse of wanting an extra scarf and umbrellas with him if it starts raining. 

To chase warmth while running through the open streets. And when the entrance door to the mall directs like curtains, people have gathered for the final scene of the night., Juyeon touches them both lightly. 

“I’ll get us something to eat, we haven’t eaten since lunch.” Juyeon points at a nearby van down one of the streets. It reeks of steam from the window while the person in front fervently switches conversations with the new person next in line. The two nod and Juyeon looks at Y/n while turning half away. 

“Look after Eric, okay!?” 

In the midst of all the burning colors, Y/n takes her eyes off the sky to see the reflection of each spark in people’s eyes. As passionate red fills the sky and scatters a wither of faint glow, Y/n think truly, that she has never felt as alive as now. The upper quarter of the crowd starts to move, she looks in that direction where a concise distance opens up between two jackets. 

That divide of the mass has loosened and the wall of the closest building works as a background to the people passing by that glimpse. Another firework goes off, echoes over the crowded platform. Eric looks up when her hand on his own becomes tighter and the direction of her head is not the sky but the front wall of the mall. He too leans forward to see between the arms of the ones before them, but as he opens his mouth to ask her what’s wrong, Y/n takes an even stronger grasp around his hand. Her own skin forces white spots to appear onto Eric’s and he nearly falls in a man’s chest as she turns. 

“What?!-” Eric shouts as people pull their shoulders closer to their warmth when they run past them. Y/n doesn’t look back, but exchanges attention from the barely patterns of the platforms and Eric’s hand secured in her own. 

“Run Eric!” Y/n tries to overpower the next color that fires off above them.

To escape the borderline of tight bound space and now free view over the imminent skyscrapers and alleys from the center. Y/n’s chest falls desperately, an impending sensation that hurts at the mit of her heart and seeps through the back. As each breath might cut her throat inside and a dye of red stronger than the one above, she takes another step and starts running. 

“What are we running from?!” Eric asks again, but Y/n doesn’t answer. The younger sometimes, when he looks at her face, sees a glimpse of her features when her hair comes behind the side profile. Vast eyes that none of the massive street lights can catch the attention of, and once or twice closes her eyes like it hurts. The strange fright running after them has him desperately coil his fingers with hers, run towards wherever she takes him. As the city flashes them by like a sped up film, they pass a familiar face without even noticing. He calls their names but only Eric looks back. 

“Y/n! It’s Juyeon!” Eric shouts and looks at her. 

“I need to go Eric, I need to go!” She breathlessly answers him. The signs start to fade, only streetlight patterns with distance lines the alley, the rest hidden. Fireworks from the curved celestial become all fainter and she can clearly hear his voice now. 

 “Y/n! Y/n stop!” Her name bears through the street. There’s a few restaurants with closed doors and warm lighting down the high walls. The people inside might see the silhouettes disappearing in an instant before the outer window. 

Juyeon shouts again and runs. The paper bag hits his thigh. Cause of petals in his throat, each shout becomes weaker and soon no air seems to pass them. The lungs inside his chest reach for air but like a cement divide, it seems impossible. Juyeon coughs as he still runs, and hears Eric shouting her name too. At the end of the road where three others meet, Juyeon gets his hands on her shoulder and forces her back towards him. They stop in an instant, and his other hand comes to her shoulder. 

“Y/n!” All three breathe heavily as they stand in a crossing. When the sky burns of color, it might even melt. 

“What happened?” He takes another breath and Y/n takes a step back, but Juyeon forces her feet to return to that place. Her head looks the other direction  so her side profile comes into full view, but his hands go to carry her face. 

“Y/n?” 

“I need to go.” She swallows. Eric takes a step from the two of them, watches how tears edges off her eyes. 

“I need to go, Juyeon.” Her own hand comes to his upper arms as she tries to push him away, but his own only comes closer, embracing her shoulder and back. The white fabric folds against his arms. To never let his sight of hers. 

“Why? Why do you need to go?” He asks gently. 

“It’s my mother, I saw my mother.” Y/n breathe and try to look behind Juyeon’s back before returning, “I’ve stayed for too long, I shouldn't have used my powers.” 

Finally all the water that has accumulated under her eyelashes overflows and a single drop runs down the curve of her cheek. As the tears itself saturate the space beneath her eyes and drown the lashes, all thoughts that would continue to pile up on her mind, reach the high ceiling. Where the last piece of stress bends at the top and eventually the whole tower falls. Tension releases in a second and Y/n feel her body become heavy. 

“I need to go.” She says again in a voice barely above a whisper. To face the rain covered asphalt, the strands of her hair fall before her face. Juyeon holds his arms still in that place they are in. But eventually, he let them fall to her upper arms. When her body is fully in his embrace, Juyeon pulls her closer so her head lands on his shoulder and body against his own. 

“I’ll help you get away.” Juyeon says gently. Though the fragments scratching his throat tightens at the sentence, he takes another breath through the flourished broken part. Let the sharp edges of vines pierce the insides. 

“And Eric will too.” He adds, looks towards the younger. Y/n shifts, then, a meter away stands Eric in a tense position, though, it slowly loosens as she looks at him. The yellow sign behind him, shines from his head like a halo and he gives her that boyish smile like he always does. At that, she gifts one back. 

“But you have to sleep.” She looks back at Juyeon, “We’ll help you out of here in the morning, but you can’t leave tonight.” 

She’s quiet. 

“I promise, your mom won’t find you.” He says sincerely as he looks at her in the eyes. Y/n can’t say anything, instead nods. 

- 

Y/n didn’t sleep. Even when she lied in bed with vision parallel to the turned off lamps above, Juyeon with great delicacy took the spot beside her. She refused to visually trace his face, still when his arm came under her neck and voice fluttered against her ears as he drew her closer. Forced light to divide from her eyes, maybe nothingness would mend the sore. Though, for every change on the minute digit and next firework. Naivety only pushes it bitterly, to grow in the hidden parts of her essence. 

Even at 5 in the morning, when their side of Earth still longs the sun, Juyeon’s hand is placed over her like before. Though, feather-like when he sleeps. His other arm is placed across her chest and at the end of his hand, he holds her upper arm. She turns from the ceiling, down to the side where his face is closest. Only in intimate moments have he been this near, but for the first time she can admire his natural red blemishes and the patterns on lips without Juyeon withdrawing. 

Time may stop for merely a second when she sees him like this, but there's trouble deep within her heart. It consumes butterflies left in her stomach and she reaches out closer to him, kisses him at the ending scene. It’s gentle and fast, contrasting to the cruelly slow ones they shared before. Y/n loosens his arm and climbs out the bed. When she packs all the belongings that can count on two hands, she sits on the floor and looks over towards Eric. The view is incredibly familiar as his arms depend on the bed edge and feet free from the fabrics. 

Y/n smiles before the pocket in the bag closes and she walks towards that side of the room. Her head is on its tilt when she tries to look at his face from the right angle. His mouth is slightly agape when he breathes and carefully Y/n takes her hand to brush his fringe. The covers are halfway over his stomach and Y/n bring it over his chest. As the edge of the stripes ends before his neck, Y/n takes a step back. To look at the room in its grandest form, she feels like bursting into tears. 

At last, she walks out the kitchen floor like an ending scene and comes out the hallway, just like the credit scene. When she reaches down for her shoes, a piercing knock on the door comes through the walls. Y/n stumbles backwards and catches her weight with her arm. She stands completely still while looking up the impending door. Another knock echoes throughout the apartment and this time, Y/n straightens up from the floor and takes the handle. Let the backpack fall to the side. 

When the door opens and the bright light from the stairs burns the dim apartment, her eyes squint. Though, a tall figure in dark clothes creates a shadow. She follows the lines of his clothing and sees his face. An older man with barely no hair, same with his smile. 

“Is this Lee Juyeon’s apartment?” He asks in a monotone voice. 

Y/n’s quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah, he lives here.” 

“Is he here?” 

Y/n falls quiet again. To stare at his face without words, she looks down and sees the mark on the uniform chest. The reflexes on the navy shade and all the layers underneath. Y/n swallows before looking up again. 

“No he’s not.” Y/n says without doubt. The man looks behind her, into the kitchen area for a second. 

“Where is he then?” 

She answers quickly as adrenaline starts rising, “He visited a friend last night after the fireworks, a friend from school.” 

“Do you know where this friend lives?” He asks and Y/n bites her lip. 

“Not completely, he took the bus.” 

“Do you remember the number?” 

“Maybe eight.” She lies. 

The man takes up his phone and types something quick. She still holds the door when he puts it back down in his pocket. 

“Are you aware of the investigation regarding Lee Juyeon?” 

Y/n furrows her eyebrows. 

“No.” 

“He may be in possession of illegal firearms and has used them.” He pauses, “We are also in search of Eric Sohn?””Social services have been called to take him in since he's a minor with a guardian under crime investigation.” 

Y/n stands with her mouth agape. In desperate need to answer him as he looks at her, but words refuse to come out. 

“I understand it’s confusing,” he takes up a notepad and a pen, “But we’re gonna have to ask for your name since you seem to be close with Lee Juyeon and Eric Sohn.” 

Y/n does write her name, incredibly unstable for the age she appears. She looks up at him when she has just written her name, he doesn’t say anything but reads between the glances that a second name in after space should be there too. Y/n quickly adds a surname and gives the note and pen back to the officer. 

“Thank you.” He says, “Is Eric Sohn with Lee juyeon?”

“Yeah.” Y/n nods, “They took the bus together last night.” 

After a few more questions, the officer does finally leave her at the door. She doesn’t close it until his silhouette disappears fully down the stairs. When it finally does and she has stood there long enough for the automatic lights in the ceiling to shut, she does pull the handle close and lean her forehead towards the frame. Y/n closes the lids against the bottom as if it’ll erase the world from her. But when she opens them, the world is still cruelly real and she turns to the kitchen. 

Y/n shakes Eric first, let the covers she adjusted fall down his stomach once again. He lets out a confused sound with eyes still closed. Y/n continues to bother him while speaking. 

“Eric, you need to wake up.” 

Eventually she walks over to Juyeon, grabs arm and shakes his upper body. She repeats his name in usual volume and slowly his eyes come open and his head turns to her. 

“Y/n?” 

“The police were here.” She shakes him still, “You’re under criminal investigation, Juyeon. They’ll take Eric…you’re a criminal, Juyeon.” 

Y/n herself seem to have not fully comprehended the words the officer spoke outside. And as she voices what he told her, it dawns on her chest and her breath becomes heavy. She looks at him weakly when he sits up. The tiredness that lingers after slumber has disappeared and he looks at her with vast eyes and she repeats it to him. 

“Social services will take Eric, you’re under investigation for illegal firearm use.”

Juyeon stares at her for a second before taking the phone off the desk. She takes a step back once the blue light illuminates his face. He clicks into the news sights and at first article at the very start of the site, a video recording from the alley when he fired off the gun. He hits the lamp above them and it ends shortly after the man stands up. He reads the title of the article, “Young man wanted after shooting”. 

She sees the video rewind on his phone as his face turns to Eric on the other side who shifts position. Despite the weight coming down on them in one moment, none of them even stands up or walks out. From today's news, their tomorrow plays out in front of their visions. Like a gloomy movie Juyeon watches how they take Eric, ship him off to somewhere, long outside this city while he himself is stuck in between the same four walls for months on end. 

Y/n herself knows she must take herself out of the city. Sky’s been watching, nothing’s here will save her. But she can’t take her feet to the hallway, bend her arms down to her bag and leave them behind.

“I’m so sorry, Juyeon.” She doesn’t know why she apologizes. After all, it’s not her in a layered uniform who will come between the closed door at dawn and separate the two. But the way his eyes lingers on Eric’s silhouette while the grip on the phone tightens. 

Juyeon suddenly looks up towards Y/n, he stands up and takes her shoulder, “Don’t apologize, Y/n.” 

He walks away to the kitchen, opens the shelves and takes out red packages. Snacks in vibrant colors and then down to the refrigerator where he grabs the plastic bottle of juice. She stays in one place, unable to relocate her essence when the world progresses at a fast pace. Juyeon places the food on the table before he goes to the hallway to take out a backpack. Y/n takes her first step closer to follow his silhouette where she once stood to leave. 

“What are you doing?” She asks when he comes back to the table and lies the cheap plastic in the backpack. 

“We’ll have to move too.” 

She’s quiet for a second, stands with hands against her sides when he goes to the shelfs. 

“Where?” She looks at him. 

“I don’t know, probably where you’re going.” 

His answer causes a wind to force the side edge of the mirror to reflect back onto herself. Her double vision becomes unclear when the thing she focuses on is rather a gloom layer at the far end of the world. Probably Y/n will disappear in the masses of people down the main road complexions before even that fades as she comes all the further from the center metropolitan. When buildings start to lose color and texts graze the sides of parks, she’ll take the bus and let the vehicle take her as far as it can. Where she’ll stand in the vast world when the sun falls down the horizon once again, is like always, a mystery. 

“I’m not leaving Eric.” Juyeon comes back to the table before turning to her. 

“And not you either.”  

-

Before the sun breaks up on the horizon, they were out of the apartment. The sky’s collapsing above them as it rains, reminiscent of melancholy in hearts. Y/n walks beside Juyeon in between high end stores and dares to look up the gray coloration in thick layers. It all reminds her of the first day she saw this city for the first time.

They come to a meeting point where the city's buses pass in rush hour. The weather has worsened, wind from the shoreline comes through the building divides and forces the rain to stand on diagonal. They force their heads down and in need of perception, they peek through the strands. With all the other lights and reflections, they see neon green stripes of guards around the platform. The central station has just a few white stripes on the asphalt before them. 

To let one of the glass structures hold the rain above, Eric and Y/n take their hoods off and let the water that has accumulated run down their backs. Y/n looks to the left to see a woman in the inner corner of the booth. She shifts her feet as it reeks and scatters of cigarettes. 

“You didn’t have another jacket?” Eric looks at Juyeon who hesitantly takes his hand up the edge of his hood. 

“It’s the only one that is waterproof.” 

Eric sighs, “If they come up to us, it’s your fault.” He points at the officers the other booth away. 

“I’m sure those two, specifically, don't look for us.”  Juyeon emphasis. 

Y/n lean over to hold her finger before her lips. They look at her with immense eyes and eyebrows knitted together. In response, she tilts her head in constant pattern, back towards the woman behind, she’s on her own phone, but both Juyeon and Eric get the hint. Eric turns to the open rectangle staring out into the rain that has started to take on forms of snow. 

As another bus pass them and it’s only seven minutes until theirs come, the officers has come out the booth and started patrolling this line. Their uniforms in neon details shines clearly through the snow. And as they come closer, each of them become stale in their soaked clothing, feeling each water drop plummet against the ground. 

“Just be natural.” Juyeon says in low volume while hitting them gently with his elbow. 

The two officers come before the transparency. The three of them hold their heads in other directions, only daring a look in between time through side eyeing. The two have stopped talking, topics seem to have run dry and they come closer to the death of afternoon. The officer closest to them passes his eyes over the glass. Juyeon holds his breath tightly and looks up at the screen in orange outlines showing another minute. At last, none of them cease dividing puddles as they continue down the platform. 

The three of them fall with their backs onto the glass. Y/n turns to see the silhouette linger. But as she prepares to look away, Y/n tears her eyes off immediately, as they glimpse through the thick rain and stained glass. When a half minute has gone by, she dares to seek that side again, the two officers are static on that spot. 

Y/n budge Juyeon with her elbow, but he only faces the back side of her head. He follows where he thinks her sight lines and sees the two officers turn to look at their booth. The two of them look away and Juyeon brings Eric closer to his side. 

Eventually the two officers walked back to them, letting the glass divide two sides. The woman beside them looks towards the opening to see the police seek inside, but she quickly turns back to her screen. 

“Waiting for the bus?” The one to the right asks. 

“Yeah.” Juyeon nods.

“Did it work paying for tickets? We’ve been getting complaints all day that the machine is struggling.” 

“Yeah, we used the app.” He answers quickly. 

There’s silence. 

The police breathe in, “We’ve gotten a report of suspicion against you three.”“There’s a case of a young man potentially on the run, he has a younger brother of sorts and a female friend.” He pauses, “It’s a serious errand, I would want to ask for your names.” 

Eric looks up at Juyeon, then down into the ground, Y/n herself side eyes him too. 

“Kim Joonwoo.” Juyeon says after a passage of silence. 

They look down at Eric. 

“Max Sohn.” 

Y/n too lies. 

The two officers look skeptical at the three of them. Then their eyes lock with each other and one of them tilts their head further out the rain before disappearing. 

“We want you guys to wait for a minute, we’ll just have to check in.” 

The other stands in the rain with their back against them. His hand comes out the pocket as he holds a phone to his ear. 

Juyeon bites his lip. The one standing against the booth frame has taken out his phone and stares at the screen. Juyeon looks towards Y/n and budges her arm with his own. Y/n dares to look at him and they lock eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but points his head towards teh space where the last officer stood. She knits her eyebrows at first, leans harder against the glass pane when he eagerly opens his eyes and points with his head in that direction. Finally he looks over the two officers and sees none of them at concentration, he takes his lips closer to her hair. 

“When I take your hand, we’ll run, okay?” Juyeon falls back. The little space created heats of whispers in cold rain. Y/n nods as Juyeon turns to Eric and whispers the same words. 

Her heart races behind the synthetic fibers of the coat. Out in the rain, the officer guides his hand away and let the phone come before his face. At that moment, before he hangs up on the caller, a cold grip on her own soaked fingers runs through her. She already had her heel on the glass divide and push from it in a second. Eric accidentally falls against the other police when he runs out their back silhouettes dim out the rain, directed towards the street up the city. 

One officer shouts at them which takes the attention of the other and in a span of less than seven seconds all five are aiming at that street. Juyeon holds their hand desperately in his own as the asphalt end seem to decline in streetlights, in compassion to the escape.

- 

“I’m hungry.” Eric sits on the edge of the bed. How the perfect surface of the silk white sheets forms lines in which he sits. There’s only one bed, or two thinner, long sides against each other. Y/n lets her bag onto the floor two meters after the hotel door. There is no scent in the room, if she concentrates and lifts her chin higher, maybe there’s a hint of chlorine. 

“We all ate before going.” Juyeon throws himself onto the other side. 

“Yeah, but I’m still growing.” Eric complains and falls in parallel to Juyeon. 

“You don’t.” Juyeon smiles while looking at the ceiling before his head falls to the side in which the both of them share. Eric too lets his eyes wither from the spotlight shine and turn to the subject in which he falls onto. 

“Ha, really funny.” Eric deadpans, takes the pillow that’s half a meter from his head. When he holds the pillow in the air, gravity takes it down to the mattress in which Eric aims towards Juyeon. The older one takes his own elbow as a protective hold before his eyes. Sounds of laughter erupt from that side of the room as Eric goes onto knees to hit Juyeon fervently. 

Y/n stands in parallel to the mirror before the bathroom. For the first time she smiles in what feels like years. The sheet edges loosens from the mattress when Juyeon only vaguely tries to protect his body from the hits. Even then, his elbow comes back down to its side. Only closes his eyelids when the pillow comes close and the smile, only Eric gifts to see, never falters. 

A surreal wind goes through the walls, fills the hotel room. It struck her again, in her heart. Human time slows down and despite having a window right before her, that world disappears at the edge of the observable horizon. As the pillow in Eric’s hand falter and comes to lie in his lap, Y/n goes to Juyeon’s bag, opens the zipper and takes out a plastic packaging of a white cream bread. To come up to the bed herself and cross her legs at the end of Juyeon’s feet and diagonally towards Eric, she gives him the bread. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/n.” Eric takes it and opens the sealed edge. 

“You’re seriously giving him?” Juyeon takes only his head up from the mattress which forces his voice to come out strained. 

“Yeah?” Y/n smiles and looks at him. 

“He should only get a reward if he has done something good.” Juyeon falls back. 

“He has.” She insists. 

“Like what?” 

“Shut you up.” 

Eric laughs and hits the surface of the bed with his free hand. Y/n too smiles at her own comment and the two of them bring their hands to a high five. While the laughs lingers in between the divide of the bed Juyeon shifts onto his stomach and falls flat with his head against the fabric.

When they arrived with the bus at the outer corner of the city, it was already dark. They ran until street signs were rare and seeked for their conservation behind a karaoke bar down the crowded street. At the backside of the building with all bins of alcohol cans and empty plastic bags, they sat between the black synthetics. It rained still, they balanced on their feet even when they had sat there for 20 minutes. At last, Juyeon spoke for the first time since the shout to run behind the corner. After, they took the bus on a lonely waiting platform with no screen on the bus times, just a worn down time table underneath the name. 

No one else beside them and a man, two seats before, sat on the bus. And even the man walked off two stops before them as they sat on those demishined seats for as long as the ride let them. When the last stop got called through the speakers, they walked off back into the rain and the sun had fallen. Only those usual lights on row down the street were there to guide. At last when their feet were sore from escaping and minds had become numb from all the oversaturation they came to a hotel in gloom. 

They couldn’t tell if it was because of the dark or the hotel building simply hadn’t been renovated since it first came to fruition on this street. Either way, three of the eight letters before the entrance didn’t work. 

After barely an hour after closing the door to their small room in which Juyeon used his extra money for, they took on other clothes and went to lie in bed. Eric’s closest to the window, Y/n in the divide where the two beds leave a limited gap and Juyeon thereafter. She feels slightly stale when in between the two of them, but it loosens off quickly when Eric starts talking about stories from when he was younger and what he and his friends did the month ago. The two older listens as his words become incomprehensible in sleep.

Suddenly it's just the two of them again. Y/n’s quiet when Juyeon starts coughing a little, he takes his arm up to his mouth and she turns their shared side to see him caress the underside of his throat. When they were running from the officers and jumped behind the back alley, Juyeon too reached deeply for air and desperately seemed to mute his coughs while waiting. She blinks a few times while still staring at him, before speaking. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” Only a mere part of all the worries and guilt in her heart.

“Yeah.” He coughs once more before guiding his arm underneath his head, “Just a little sick I think.” He smiles and scratches his hair, “The rain was really cold.” 

His voice only reaches the span of the closest two pillows when he takes his hands underneath his chin and turns to the side, “I think I need a hug.” 

Y/n squints her eyes and looks at his smile before whispering, “Really? "Right now?” 

Juyeon’s request when in a strange bed while his face circulates rounds on the internet, it feels rather inappropriate in her book. Though, she laughs as the fringe falls diagonally over his vast eyes. There’s a point in pearl essence when he looks at her in which she has no choice but to reach for his face. The same echoing words in the back of her mind as the night they spent together in each other's arms comes back. It taunts her to divide space in between them. But even when not only this Earth, but the universe, chases them, she still finds her soul melting of tenderness when he looks at her. 

“You are a bit cold.” She smiles and caresses his head. 

Juyeon hums and closes his eyes, shifts his head on the pillow before bringing himself closer. His head comes underneath her chin as her arms closer around him and his breath comes against her chest. 

For every touch of her hand against his essence, and each time her warmth pulsates out of her veins and spreads across his own, he can feel the ways in his throat become choked. Ribbons with sharp edges tightens around his heart. He closes his eyes painfully, forces his head closer to her chest, as if to merge with her, the pain will cease. All the world’s seems to desperately stand in his way, he thinks in this rain drowned night. He can’t look forward to the morning. When any road can take him there, he closes his eyes and wishes to remember this moment, her arms, her presence, even in death. The green plantations in between the frozen cracks might grow from this weather, and so do the lilac petals in his heart. 

- 

There’s a sharp edge of yellow light. It cuts through the dark room in a single divide and traces up the floor to her face where it climbs up the wall. Y/n opens her eyes just so that a liminal shade of the outer world can be conceived. The light comes from the open bathroom door diagonally from her. As hands spread across the pillow behind her to let the weight off the mattress, Y/n hears violent dry coughing coming from the gap. 

She looks to the left where the side of the window stands, Eric still sleeps. Juyeon’s pillow has creases left of him and the sheet is folded from where he left. Another severe cough occurs from that room and Y/n folds the fabric once more as the warmth accumulated underneath, lowers in degrees while free. Gently while rubbing her eyes with her left hand, Y/n takes the other on the frame while adjusting her eyes to the light. 

“Juyeon?” 

He depends on the sink with his hands. Upper body leaned forward over the crater while his back replicates the harsh sounds coming from his throat. Y/n tilts her head to see his face, but neither standard vision or mirror angle contravene her fear. The cough brutally tears on the insides of his throat, it too causes delusive discomfort in her own body. 

His back straightens suddenly and Juyeon turns his head over. She stays in continued silence as he looks at her with eyes of liquid layers and redness underneath. He takes his arm up to his mouth to cough again before he takes a step closer and directs his body to come in between the bounded space of frame and body. 

“I’m okay.” He says hastily without making eye contact. 

Y/n follows the sight of his back silhouette returning into the hotel room. She lets go of the door frame, takes a single step to the sink. A dead garden with only traces left, deep lilac petals. It decorates the sink by erratic trails from the mit where water comes down. The air in her own chest twined amidst two ways. In contrast to the exhausted motions from the bathroom, she forces the door up even wider until it hits the other wall. Juyeon with arms against the mirror at the bed end, and she rushes towards him. 

“Juyeon!” With her hands on his shoulders, she pulls him closer to turn him in a direction to let his front face hers. But he stubbornly leans heavier against the mirror and only his left shoulder comes two centimeters closer before returning back. 

“Juyeon!” Her voice is loud in a room compressed beside ten others at the end of the city. She refuses to close her eyes when he coughs again and eventually, they plummet to the ground when he can’t bear the flowers rotting his body. Juyeon's face hides before the carpet. 

Y/n sinks to her knees, takes one hand under his chin and the other at the back of his head. To force his face up from the floor and see lilac vibrancy in gloom consume his features. A single petal falls from the end of his lips down to her thigh. Now when it traces her essence, she feels so cruel for being optimistic. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The hand on his hair comes to his cheek where she touches the red coloration with her thumb. Let the gentle pressure create white patterns before it returns to that color. 

“I- '' Juyeon coughs again and Y/n takes her other arm on his shoulder when he comes down to her lap. His hair scattered across her legs and the ceiling above him withers in view. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n repeats in which he looks remorsefully up at her from her embrace. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” 

Tears threaten at the borderline under her eyes. Y/n shakes her head and reaches for the backpack behind her. This entire life, she wished to still be holy, but she realizes she might never be, when one grip the arrow. She holds it in her right hand, above his fragile heart. Juyeon’s eyes widen as the sharp knife aims at his vulnerable. He takes her wrist from below and speaks through the petals. 

“What are you doing?” He coughs. 

“I need to save you, Juyeon!” Y/n holds against him with her own strength. 

Her voice becomes softer, “It won’t hurt, Juyeon, I would never hurt you.” The single tear comes off her eye and falls onto his cheek. He pity her so deeply. But he wishes to be destroyed, eradicated by fate, if only he follows her for an eternity. 

“I-I don’t want to.” His voice is sore when he speaks and she shakes her head. 

“You’re gonna die, Juyeon.” She weighs down the arrow even harder, “I can’t let you die.” 

Shift of fabrics comes from the bed above them. Juyeon closes his eyes. Even in no visual presence he feels her raging strength extraordinarily work against him. A single glimpse into the future and his heart aches, maybe even more than the tearing in his throat. He doesn’t know where the second arrow will land after she strikes him, but he might as well be buried six feet under if it’s because of her. 

“I love you, Y/n.” He breathes heavily while his eyes lie underneath their lids. Y/n takes his shoulder with her other hand, shakes him fervently, 

“Juyeon!” 

“I just want to hear you…” He whispers and Y/n forces her eyes close when the tears run down her skin. The grip on the arrow becomes weak from both directions as she leans her face on his chest. Y/n shakes her head because fate betrayed her, gruesome and vengefully again. 

There’s faintly rain shatter. The dark gray clouds can be seen from this angle but one can only insinuate the existence of a cityscape at the end of the frame. Each of the droplets running down against the glass becomes further precise. He traces the outline of one of them, like his youth, following its tail to the very end where it shatters into pieces. 

“He’s awake!” 

A voice that echoes in the strange room, it shares the same stardust as his. He turns from the window and the yellow shine from spotlight sources blinds him. Juyeon squints his eyes as his head comes flat against the hard pillow and a silhouette covers the light in the ceiling. 

“Juyeon?” His voice is delicate, softer than in his memories. He knits his eyebrows and answers the one above him. 

“Yeah?” 

It’s only a word, pronounced sore and lost, but either way, it creates a smile on the boy above. As if too fragile to touch, he reaches his hand down to his shoulder and shakes him gently. 

“It’s Eric!” He smiles still. 

Juyeon still squints his eyes, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Juyeon?” 

The door from the other end of the room opens. There’s a wall before, in which two hands hold it while someone peaks through. A doctor comes before her, stands a meter behind Eric while the girl who spoke his name closes in. 

Another second passes before he speaks her name. His hand comes down to his chest and he rises from the bed just a little. The girl walks from the spot at the very end of his feet to the opposite side of Eric. She holds both her hands before her front and leans down to him. He feels cold off her body as if been in the rain he just chased. She holds his shoulders while her head rests beside his. Juyeon closes his eyes and embraces her too. 

“I was so worried.” She speaks quietly, so that each breath reaches his ear. 

“I’m okay, don’t worry anymore.” He answers whilst hugging her tighter. 

-

On the day Juyeon woke up at the hospital, she had ran to the bus platform in harsh rain after she got the hurried call from Eric that he was in sleep. Y/n only gave him a few hours to accept how she had altered fate, stand beside them in the yellow room whilst the past became forgotten. Juyeon, after waking up, went to the police station, he was on probation for a month, because of illegal firearm use but they did acknowledge self defense and past of no criminal records. Eric lived with Juyeon’s girlfriend at that time. 

When visiting him while on probation nearly everyday after school, Eric told him the weeks leading up to the blackout. All while his brother returned to true state, Eric felt inexpressibly alone after walking home. How he lives in the ruins where no one goes. 

Since that day, at the hotel where he nearly saw Juyeon die, Eric apologizes a lot for not being present. He wants to tell them that he lives in dreams, and put himself there because her name will never be forgotten. Instead he’s forced to tell the people that there was no Y/n, no love service, no magic, just an accident as Juyeon had gotten a gun curiously, used it to defend himself when a stranger was attacked in an alley. The rest of the story after new years stays, but without Y/n. He doesn’t know how she did it, but even the name of the friend the police got that morning after new years is not hers, but a friend of Juyeon’s. 

Now when it’s the end of spring and the edge of summer, he lives with Juyeon again. They meet up with his girlfriend often after Juyeon’s work. In two days, he’ll pass the school entrance for the last time, and think back, on a summer day in the near future. But as he lies in bed at night, he can’t help mourn the loss of that endless winter. Y/n told him that those moments will wither, not feel as intensely as they once did. But he’s still there. 

Eric comes home the next day after being out with his friends after school. Juyeon should be home, he thinks, as he’s nowhere to be seen when in the hallway. To see the sofa in the living room but sounds of struggle comes from a half open door opposite the balcony. There’s no sounds from Eric when walks with only his socks into his bedroom. Eric tilts head to see Juyeon’s back in his closet. 

“Why are you in my room?” Eric asks and Juyeon looks up from the floor. 

“Your closet door is a bit loose.” He pushes the black slide, “It’s soon done.” Juyeon smiles. 

Eric nods but doesn’t take away his vision from that corner as a black box sits beside Juyeon. The lid’s off the edge by a centimeter. Eric comes in and lays the bag at the frame before weighing down on the bed edge. Juyeon has laid down the working material and looks at the black box. Eric straightens his posture when he takes it in his hands. 

“I’m just curious, I didn’t mean to be nosy, but why do you have this dress?” Juyeon takes off the lid and angles the rectangular frame to showcase its inside. The dress in light blue color, detailed with white lace, is delicately folded so that the square neckline lies in center of the box. Eric bites his lip, hands on his thighs and touches them up and down the cotton fabric. There’s silence for a moment and Juyeon observes the younger’s expression when no words come out. 

“Eric?” He let the box down to his lap. 

“It’s yours.” He says and finally looks at him. 

Juyeon tilts his head.

“Mine?” 

Eric nods, “You bought it as a gift, you were supposed to give it to her on New Years.” 

Juyeon asks if he means his girlfriend and Eric shakes his head, looks down again. The fingers of his right hand start scratching against the left. A thin layer of skin loosens from the nail binding. He bites his lip again and thinks of all the lone mind echoes. 

Eric hasn’t seen Y/n since the day at the hospital. When Juyeon and his girlfriend started talking down in the room, Eric silently escaped and walked around the different floors with stairs in between. There was a door on the highest floor to an outside platform. Eric stood there, feeling a great sense of compassion for the Earth-like-tears. When it felt like everything might have been a dream, Y/n called his name. 

To come into her embrace and affirm she’s real. Though, Y/n told him before leaving that her existence is now not a valid part of Juyeon’s world. That there’s just the two. That she promises he’ll not be left at the threshold of two worlds, that this moment in each other's arms isn’t the last. But winter will soon end, and he must accept how the flowers will forget about snow once it is replaced. 

Eric breathes, “It’s Y/n.” He finally admits, still looking down. 

Juyeon knit his eyebrows, “Y/n?” 

Eric nods and a faint smile comes on his lips, “The one you saved, with the gun was Y/n. She lived with us at the end of December and you told me you loved her. You wanted to ask her out at New Years but you never got the time, because then the police searched for you.” 

Juyeon listens quietly, opens his mouth but none come to flourish. Instead he shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t told that.” He says hurt. 

“She told me not to tell you.” 

“But the police, the doctors…” He names the people who have affirmed fiction. 

Eric starts swinging his feet and smiles again, “It sounds stupid, but Y/n’s not a human.” 

Juyeon raises one eyebrow. 

“She’s a goddess, you fell in love with the love goddess, and she, in you.” 

-

Juyeon didn’t believe Eric. The younger stubbornly chased after him when Juyeon simply told him, “That’s ridiculous”. To run around every corner of the apartment, even into Juyeon’s room where Eric lied down beside him and reiterated. When Juyeon still persisted, Eric sighed and went up from the bed and out of Juyeon’s room. Went to his own, before coming back with his phone.

“Look, here she is.” 

Juyeon turns to Eric’s screen and sees a selfie, presumably he himself has taken of Eric, himself and a girl at the very end. Juyeon’s own phone falls to his stomach and he leans closer to see the picture. 

“When’s this?” He asks. 

“This winter, in our old apartment.” 

Eric scrolls to the next photo which is taken at the store, when they tried out angel outfits. The photo is clearly centered on Eric in his small wings, but Y/n can be seen to the right laughing in her own costume. 

“This one’s good.” Eric laughs and scrolls to the next photo in which Y/n holds the pink box on the platform with Juyeon beside her. He throws an awkward peace sign up with half his hair in his face. 

“I don’t remember this.” Juyeon tilts with a half smile and takes the phone from Eric’s hand. The younger one comes down fully on the shared pillow as they go through the pictures from that winter. 

“She’s the one you wanted to give the dress to.” Eric says eventually. 

“Have you met her since?” Juyeon asks at the last picture of them at new year’s. 

Eric shakes his head, “No,” He sighs, “She told me that her mother had found her and that she was only allowed a quick visit to meet me.” 

Juyeon nods. As if looking at another life when reversing the pictures. But her face, always in the captured stills from the past, insists a dime of all his sensibilities to tell him he cares. Even as the day passes, her face lives like cathedral windows before him. 

-

The moon, lifeless, in shine hanging above the sleeping Earth. It’s been dark for a couple of hours. The sun stays above the city line a second longer for each day that passes. 

When no one’s there to verify one's existence, the glass door to the balcony opens. No heavy wind passes through the city streets during this weather, but nonetheless she closes the door back to its frame before taking silent steps against the floor. The shoe material at the tip of her toes makes a pitched sound. Those steps come closer to the left door of two at one wall. 

To bring her hand out to the handle without any weight. She lets the shine melt into her own essence before gently forcing it down. Between that space is his room, she stands there for a second to finally see it in all three dimensions. At last, when her eyes trail down the wall details and reach him beneath the soft fabrics. His mere existence is extremely poetic. 

He reminds her of the present fragile complexity. How human he makes her feel, she thinks. She brings her hand up to her chest, above the spot of her clothing where underneath all the layers, one can sense the quick pulses. Eventually, she takes a step over the borderline, his features in pale moonlight become all clearer. When he’s so close to her, she hesitantly takes out her hand. 

His delicate skin is underneath her fingertips, slowly she pulls them back to her own side. Instead, sits down on the left space beside his hip. The bed sheets crinkles when her weight changes the patterns of the creases. She tilts her head. As if there’s a field drawing them towards each other, she leans over his chest and her face comes as close as it can. 

At this mere distance, each of his breath lingers. She had been dying to hear his voice and see his face, but truly her heart aches in bliss when his scent touches her face. It forces her to open closed off memories, may be sun bleached and dust, but it warms her human heart, as a part of him she had forgotten, returns to her. Her hand comes to the side of his pillow as she leans forward. He shifts his head and the beautiful hair scatters in new patterns. That peaceful sensation lasts, until the motions of his head spreads to his eyes and they slowly open. 

She immediately backs away, the hand returns to her lap and the sudden motion causes an effect on the rest of the bed. There’s a new emotion in her heart as he forces himself off the mattress and rubs his eye. She is still there, at the edge of his bed, when he looks at her with tired eyes. She wishes for him to fall right back onto the pillow, but he doesn’t, instead he continues to stare at her while the exhaustion from sleep disappears. 

She finally stands up from the bed. He looks up at her and trails after when she rushes out of the room. Juyeon is left with his hands on the mattress, blinking a few times, agape his lips. 

The person on the bed was a visit from a past life. He nearly wonders if the pictures on Eric’s phone he's been thinking about, might have started haunting him. But there’s a pattern left on the spot where she sat, a real world consequence of her existence. 

Juyeon takes the sheets off his body and walks up to the door. The silhouette stands at the outer edge. The glass is against the other wall and her lower body is covered by patterns of metal as she stands with her back against the free fall. A night wind from the moon comes through the open door and touches his warm body. It filtrates the thin fabric of his sleepwear and he takes another step forward. As her right feet disappear beneath the balcony floor, Juyeon speaks. 

“Wait!” 

The moonlight shines behind her when she turns her eyes from beneath. 

He opens mouth and walks closer, “You’re Y/n, right?” 

Juyeon takes his right leg higher to pass the doorstep elevation before the cold hard floor of the balcony. She’s leaning with both her hands on the railing which causes her to come in greater height than Juyeon. With still a meter between them, Juyeon looks up to her and asks again. 

“You’re Y/n?” 

The scene is rather overwhelming for her. Only in imagination has she continued seeing those moon made eyes and voice that causes spring to reach the very isolated, cold corners of her heart. None of the human vocabularies she has learned feels acceptable to answer him with, none withstand the level of adoration her heart feels. So at last, to open up to conversation with him one more time, Y/n nods her head. 

As she blinks, the nods become faster, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

For the first time, after a season, she sees him smile again, “Hi, Y/n.”

She breathes out and smiles too, “Hi, Juyeon.” Though, she tilts her head and observes the highlights caused from the moon on his face. 

“How do you know my name?”

A wind passes them, “Eric told me.” He breathes, “He told me you were a goddess, that you saved my life that day when the police came.” 

Y/n looks down for a second, still smiling, “Eric couldn’t keep it in, right?” 

“He’s pretty indiscreet. Though I guess you already know that?” 

Y/n nods.

There’s a passage of silence while a car drives down the street below them. Juyeon hasn’t taken his eyes off her for even a second, trying to place where in his heart she occupied space and if, when they stand together again, the doors will open again for her. 

“Where were you?” He asks which makes Y/n look at him again, “All of spring?” 

“With my mother.” She nods slowly, “I’m receiving my punishment…” Y/n looks down before smiling. Yet, she looks as if forced to improvise, he thinks“...I’m allowed to visit Earth more often though, I have an apartment here now.” She pauses, “So I’m at least free from that place.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, “Punishment?” 

“I escaped Olympus, I interfered a lot with human relationships…” She nods with ocean-heavy-eyes, “My mother was pretty angry.” 

Juyeon listens attentively when Y/n trails her eyes away and picks at her fingers. 

“You don’t remember, but I did fall in love with you back then. Changed your fate from the disease which I shouldn't have.” She looks down, the smile has slowly vanished with the wind, “So I am forever destined to love you unrequited.” She says as if turning home. 

The last sentence falling from her lips, causes a permanent block in whatever way was left in his heart. Like winter comes back in a second, deep frost structures his cathedral heart. 

“Unrequited?” He repeats. 

Y/n nods, “I will never be able to love anyone else. And you, will never love me.” 

Juyeon blinks, “Don’t you have powers?”

Y/n smiles again, laughs a little as she takes an arrow from behind her back. For the first time since he saw her eyes, something else falls in center. The sharp edge shines off the left side from the silver light. He realizes as he looks at it, that it is the same edge that must have struck him. 

“I’ll die if I use it and the same on you.” Y/n takes the sharp end against his arm. Juyeon brings it closer to his chest as the edge makes a white mark on his skin before it springs back in color. Y/n lowers her head and the arrow disappears behind her back, as mysteriously as it came. 

Juyeon looks at his arm. There’s nothing equivalent in words to describe the slow paced swan song that runs through his veins. But somehow he sees the dejection at the tips of her lips and it shares like grief in his heart. He doesn’t know why, but at last he speaks those words that die to come out in the silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Y/n tilts her head, laughs softly before speaking, “Why are you apologizing?” 

“I don’t know.” Juyeon scratches the back of his head, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you to love alone.” 

Y/n shakes her head, “Even if you didn’t forget me and everything else, my love would have outlived you by a hundred years.” She pauses and looks at him, like described out of a mythology, “Our love was never destined to be forever.” 

Despite standing before each other once again, there’s an undeniable distance. Y/n ‘s heart that desperately longs for Juyeon’s, but there is no lost place. There’s no use in trying. The universe has created an eternal absence, pulling them miles apart even when they’re here, at the same time in the same place. How tragically, he thinks. 

“But…I wasn’t punished?” Juyeon knits his eyebrows. 

“I mean, kind of.” Y/n says gently, “Though, not in the way I am.” 

“But I don’t understand, what was my punishment?” 

“Guilt.”

Juyeon tilts his head, “Guilt?” 

She smiles weakly, “Cause you’re a good person, Juyeon.” And it slowly fades, “Only good people die with guilt.” 

He looks down onto the cold floor of the balcony. There’s tragedy in marrow, cruelly hurts  when she thinks of the eternity waiting for her. How the adoration for him will simply not mature. How her heart will search for him, far and wide, even when he’s no longer here. 

Y/n swallows, “Anyways,” She shakes her head to let a strand fall beside her face. Her voice tears Juyeon’s eyes up from the floor, “You told me before I saved you…” She pauses to let another wind pass them by. 

“...that you loved me. But I never said it back.” 

Y/n looks down from the railing, locks eyes again. She reaches deep within, to find maybe even a fragment of him that will remember those words. 

“So I want to tell you that I love you too, Juyeon. Not because I’m punished to, but because you loved in a way no one else has done.” She breathes out, “I didn’t quite understand love back then, I couldn’t understand humans,” She smiles weakly, “even when I wanted to save you and you said no, I couldn’t grip my head around why you didn’t want to be saved.” He looks at the goddess with vast eyes when the moonlight is at its brightest behind her. 

“But now, when I’m forever punished loving you, I still think that I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says, “I want to love sincerely even when you don’t love me.” 

The lips of his mouth form a faint gape. The reflection of the moon in the left center pupil fades and returns like it's pulsing. He waits for a spark, a falling star or even a firework, but the night stands as still as it always does. Though, with the sincere words she gives him, he wishes there’s a part in his heart that receives it, that can fully comprehend the words she so gently tells him. 

Another car passes by and Y/n looks down the detailed street in lights. Her hand comes up before making a sound on the metal railing. 

“Well, I think that was all.” The smile she gives him comes as if perfectly out of the photo on Eric’s phone, “Thank you, Juyeon. I’ll protect you and Eric from the bad things, you've been through enough.” She once again takes a foot down the balcony.

“Wait-” 

Y/n looks up as he pushes the glass door open again and disappears into the room. Still halfway down, Y/n tries to perceive his shadow behind the frame. Only struggles of doors and paper can be heard from her distance, but at last, Juyeon comes out again. He holds a black paper box with his two hands. 

“I don’t remember, but Eric told me I wanted to give this to you on New Year’s, but I never got the chance to.” 

Y/n comes up again, reaches her hands out but hesitantly takes them back a centimeter. Juyeon smiles delicately and pushes the box closer to her. To open the lid, he sees her  expression fade into brilliance. As if sunrise has come above the horizon, he tilts his head and smiles too. The distance destined between them refuses to let him fully comprehend the gift, but truthfully when she lifts it up, a pure bliss rushes through him. 

“You brought it?” Y/n holds the top part of the dress as those burnt memories return.

“Apparently,” He smiles. 

As she pulls the fabric a bit higher, a piece of paper reveals itself underneath. Y/n takes her other hand and folds open the letter. 

Happy New Year’s, Y/n! 

You looked really pretty in that dress so I wanted to give it to you. If I ask you out now, I hope you will wear it. 

Love, Juyeon

She reads it over and over until it means visually nothing and ocean edges on her eyes. The choir of lovers that sing in her lone marrow, how each word tears at her strings deeply, “Thank you, Juyeon, thank you.” They shine as she looks back up. 

She puts the letter into the box again and closes the lid. 

“I’ll treasure it forever, I promise. “ 

He smiles because she now knows it wasn’t always unrequited. That the mourn and loss wasn’t all for nothing. Though, still in melancholy cause he can’t help her like she saved him. Amidst everything in silence, Juyeon’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Eric’s graduation is tomorrow,""do you want to come?” 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. 

“Of course.” He smiles, “I think he missed you.” 

At those words, she finally nods, embraces the box a bit closer, “Then, I’ll come!” 

“Great, meet me on this street at ten tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/n nods and takes a step down. 

“I think you should use the stairs.” Juyeon leans over the railing. 

“Oh, right.” 

“Eric!” 

He turns when his name, pronounced deja vu inducing extreme, trails the high ceiling. The friends in circle stops talking and almost instantly, he recognizes her silhouette, that can overthrow the world, in the crowd. 

“Y/n!” The paper in his hands withers off when he meets her halfway there. She closes her eyes when he’s under her arms again. The black suit he has on scratches against her arms. Y/n tells him he’s the most handsome she has ever seen him. She ruffles his head when they let go. Eric would have sulked but couldn't when he had missed her so deeply. 

Juyeon came up too and soon after his girlfriend walked through the entrance. Y/n, though, struck her heart that night after Juyeon, didn’t have a chance to see her. As she stood real before her, she smiled fondly and introduced herself. Her tender heart, molten because of the lovers. Though as the two turn to walk down the entrance, and their traces leave Eric Y/n, her cursed soul starts to mourn. 

She thinks; if I told you my world stopped when I saw you. You wouldn’t have believed me. You should have known by then that the heaven’s lies in my palms and when you said my name, angels heard it echo. 

They say nothing truly disappears, that it just changes. Then, she hopes that if she shouts his name into the black void, it’ll come back to him as an echo. That if she believes in love, help people over the street, pet cats and water her plants, that all that love will reach him someday, in some form. 

She hopes, if she lives on, worshiped in history, that if her name gets spoken in the far future, his will too. When we believe there’s nothing left to be made holy, she sincerely begs to tell this tale, to any lovers, that’s left alive. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/n : that self conscious part of me thinks no one will make it down here, but if you did, thank you!

tagging : @from-izzy

[phantom-margaritas]

Mondays were swiftly becoming Erik's least favorite at the Rosy Hours, not due to the noisy crowds, but because Christine never visited on her day off. Besides, she had mentioned plans to visit her fiancé’s family, not that he paid much attention to that conversation. No, not at all. Despite this, he managed to endure yet another Monday, especially after ushering out the lingering patrons who clamored for one last drink. It was now 2 a.m., and he was nearly done cleaning out his station for the night when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Draping the dish towel over his shoulder, he brushed his hands off before fishing out his phone.

It was a text from Meg Giry, and that in itself caused Erik to raise an eyebrow; she rarely sent him anything aside from random, silly videos that reminded her of him. Meg was a former waitress at the Rosy Hours, having joined at the age of eighteen to earn some extra cash to spend in college. Their personalities clashed rather often, but they grew to understand each other near the end of Meg’s stay. Moreover, he needed to thank her, as it was Meg who introduced the Rosy Hours to Christine in the first place. 

Meg Giry

Hey Erik, Christine’s heading your way. She’s not doing too good. I tried to persuade her to stay with me but she refused. Please take good care of her.

Well, if he was confused then, he was concerned now. Christine? Out by herself? At this hour? How is she going to get here? The subway? No, the last train must’ve left by now. Walking? Out of the question, the streets at night are not safe for women. Driving? It’s dangerous to drive when one’s distraught.

Tossing the dish towel onto the counter, Erik raced into Nadir’s office. He grabbed his wool overcoat from the coat rack, shrugging it on as he made his way to the front door of Rosy Hours. Outside, snow continued to fall, and the blanket of white seemed to have deepened a few inches while he was indoors. Erik felt his stomach drop. Harsh weather and a volatile mood were a dangerous combination on the road—he knew that better than anyone. 

But then he remembered something else: Christine didn’t expect to see him outside, and he had no reason to be there other than to see her the moment she arrived. To appear nonchalant, he leaned against the pillar and started scrolling aimlessly through his phone, all the while stealing glances at the passing cars.

He didn’t have to wait long. An all too familiar car came to a stop across the street, and he dashed across the bricks and asphalt before the door even swung open. Hesitating for but a second, he bent down and knocked gently on the window.

“Christine?”

Through the glass, he watched as her shoulders tensed, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. Her head bowed, brown curls blocking her face. She was not looking in his direction at all. 

“Christine, are you alright? I— I’m concerned about you.”

At his words, her body slumped against the driver’s seat, her hands dropping from the steering wheel. Slowly, as if in a trance, she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. But Erik was a step ahead, opening the door and holding it for her, his hand extended to offer assistance.

Grasping his hand, Christine stepped out of the vehicle, Erik shutting the door behind her. His hands had grown cold from standing in the snow, but what surprised him was that Christine’s hand felt just as icy. Giving her a once-over, he realized she was only wearing a turtleneck and jeans, with no jacket in sight. Without a word, he removed his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders. Then, wrapping an arm around her, he guided her across the street.

“Erik, what about you?” Christine asked, attempting to shrug off the coat, but the arm around her held the warm fabric snug against her.

“Don’t worry about me. What matters most right now is your well-being.” He replied, the two coming to a stop near the front porch of the bar. Under the entrance lighting, Erik could see Christine’s face much more clearly, including her flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. This will not do. “My uh… my apartment is directly above the bar, and it should be warmer and more comfortable there. Just give me a moment to lock up, and then we can head upstairs.”

———

Erik learned more about Christine that night than he had in the past four months combined. 

As soon as they entered his apartment, he gently seated her on the sofa and went to the kitchen to prepare her usual drink, concerned that she might have gotten too cold outside. Holding a warm cocktail in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other, he sat down beside her and waited patiently until she was ready to talk about what had happened.

And oh did she talk. Before, she rarely spoke about her personal life, focusing mainly on their shared interests in theater and music. Now, she was telling him about how her father's music career influenced her, recounting his passing just before her high school graduation, and expressing her growing doubts about the opportunities she had received throughout her life. 

“Do you remember the modeling gig I got a few months ago? The one with that jewelry brand?”

“Of course. I saw the final poster in a metro station and other places around the city too. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Christine sniffed, fresh tears streaming down her face, “apparently Raoul’s older sister convinced them to hire me. They probably weren’t even going to move forward with me had she not persuaded them. Now I’m wondering if they were the ones that gave Carlotta’s role to me, and if that’s true, do I even deserve it? Maybe I never even had the necessary skills to perform in the first place!”

She was crying in earnest now. Her chest heaved with sobs, and Erik’s heart constricted at the sight of his love reduced to tears. His hand hovered in the air between them, and he wasn’t sure if he was about to cross some forbidden boundaries between a single bartender and an engaged actress, but soon he was cupping her face in his hands and thumbing away her tears, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry on his shoulder, whispering how wonderful her voice, her acting— just how wonderful and perfect she is as a person. 

Eventually, perhaps it was out of pure exhaustion or the emotional toll or the tears, but by around half past four, Christine was sound asleep. Her head had somehow found its place in his lap, a few lingering tears rolling freely down the contours of her face. The confidence Erik once felt in embracing her had faded, and now his hand was once again hovering near her shoulder, unsure of what to do. Ayesha, who had been hiding in his bedroom from the presence of a stranger, finally decided to emerge, gazing up at Christine with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Shhhh.” Erik pressed a finger to his lips. “We wouldn’t want to disturb her rest now, darling. Would you do me a favor and keep her company for tonight?”

———

Inspo: the song Goddess by Laufey

[failing-to-write-again]

Imagine Shu at a club with you

Its sweaty and loud...but at least you're here

Throw back to June (oops) where I promised to do my part of the deal of writing a Boyfriend!Shu at a human party. Reiji's version will be written by @bubblespalacee (no rush at all on this btw take your time) and @fangsforiris replied saying they might join and if they do I cannot wait to read and repost it.

Warnings : alcohol, swearing, DL vampire-ness, mildly suggestive no actual acts just allusions to it

The party was loud you had to admit, the fact you were still here was shocking. Your friends were slowly spreading out at this point in the night, the birthday girl having taken her boyfriend to some private corner promising to message before she leaves. Although with how many vodka blacks she has had it is probably wiser to just keep an eye on the door.

Shu had taken a place at the bar nearby while you danced giving you time to catch up with them. That and the fact that he would likely rather die than dance in the dense mob in the club. That doesn't mean blue eyes weren't following your every move the second you weren't by his side, piercing through any would be flirts getting too close. Whiskey in hand, earphones hanging from his neck he broods as your dark prince was prone to when around large groups. Walking towards him those eyes that once were sharp, soften into a half lidded stare paired with his classic smirk. As you reach him, a hand rising as natural as breathing to rest on your hip pulling you closer.

"You know," you begin, cocking your head as your hand rests over his, "it might be more fun to dance with your girlfriend instead of just staring at her." He lets out an amused snort, shifting his weight to his other foot and pulling you closer.

"Why move when the view is pleasant? Unless you want to grind against me lewd woman." You lightly slap his arm in response, eliciting a proper laugh from the blonde. It didn't last long though, his hands taking to wandering instead. Running up and down your arms slowly. His pupils were wider than normal, the alcohol mixed with your presence intoxicating him. He drops his head to your shoulder, sighing as he places barely there kisses against your collar bone.

"It's so loud in here, why can't they all be quiet and let me enjoy watching you in piece."

"I don't think it would count as a club is people aren't being drunk and rowdy Shu, we can go to the smoking area outside if you'd like."

Shu straightens back to his full height, taking your hand in his and leading the way through the crowd towards the cold night air. As you step outside you shiver, the temperature change catching you off guard. Moments later you feel the jacket you had picked out for Shu drape around your shoulders. The patio was much more sparse compared to the sardine can that was indoors. Yet still busy enough that nobody paid the two of you any mind as you sat against the low wall lining the area. It was raining just past the covering awning, tinging the air with a crisp, fresh smell. A cold hand resting against yours, fingers entwined as you both continued drinking.

While not fully drunk, you were enjoying the slight haze around you. The haze that has you not fully remembering the point where drinking stopped and kissing began, but you were also lucid enough to know you weren't about to stop. Shu, normally more intentional and teasing with his kisses, was instead hungry, barely letting you back away for air chasing your lips with his. The fingers on his left hand teasing just under the fabric of your clothes, while his right tangles in your hair letting him kiss you deeper. Your arms around his neck, twisting into the tighter curls at the nape of his neck. Your neck and his both having little nips and marks that were sure to remain into the next few days, and some new bite marks joined your ongoing collection.

Shu's hands moving to push you back, shockingly onto something soft. You take a moment to look around, realizing you are back in the mansion laying on the soft white sheets of Shu's bed. Your shoes and his on the rack by the stairs leading to his door, and his jacket thrown against the sofa. Shu took this time to approach, un-clipping his mp3 player and letting it drop onto the end of the bed. One knee rising to sit beside yours, his forearm holding his body above yours.

"I think I deserve to have my fun now, seeing as you like to tease so much...lewd woman."

[callsign-rogueone]

nothing burns like the cold - r.g.

what's supposed to be an ordinary afternoon sparring with your friend goes wrong in an unexpected way. words: 1.4k 🏷: one incredibly mild Iron Flame spoiler (Ridoc's signet), she/her reader, very brief description of friendly sparring, no real physical injury, nothing too bad... both of you have Feelings and need to talk about them, Ridoc being sad deserves it's own warning, wingwoman Violet to the rescue! this can be read as a standalone or you can consider it a way-back prequel to hey roomie, my poly Ridoc/Sawyer/reader fic (more of that trio coming soon, by the way!)

Ridoc’s fist lands against your ribs, and you don’t know how to describe what happens, other than cold. Coldest shower of your life, bucket of ice water over your head, jumped into the river in late December cold, that shocks your senses and has you crumpling to the mat beneath you.

Your friends gasp, at your side in an instant.

You’re indoors, but your shirt is soaked like you’ve been out in the rain for twenty minutes, and your hair is dusted with… snow? You blink the wet flakes from your eyelashes, stunned.

Rhiannon helps you to your feet, and you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

Sawyer removes his flight jacket, draping it over your shoulders. The fabric is warm with his body heat, but it doesn’t do much to fight the chill you feel around your heart; the way the wet material of your clothes clings to your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” Ridoc breathes. “I had no idea that was going to happen.”

You still haven’t said a word, your entire body trembling — you’re in shock, unable to process your friend’s words.

“Get her into dry clothes,” Bodhi instructs quietly. “She should be fine in a few hours.”

Rhiannon nods, leading you out of the gym and toward your room.

Ridoc stares at his hands, at the frost that still coats his fingertips. You should be fine? Gods, what had he done?

Now he knows how Sawyer felt when his metal-bending signet manifested and he nearly skewered his sparring partner. But that’s the operative word — nearly. He’d definitely hit you with… whatever this is.

“You’re an ice wielder,” Dain answers before the boy can ask, dry and straightforward as always. “Professor Carr can explain.” He takes a few steps toward the door, realizing that Ridoc isn't following him; the younger boy is still stuck in place, silent.

“She’ll be okay,” Violet promises, touching a hand to his arm.

Sawyer offers some encouragement as well: “She knows you didn’t mean it.”

That’s not what he’s worried about.

————————————————

You aren’t at dinner that night, nor at evening formation; he doesn’t see you until breakfast the next day.

Your heart aches as he takes a seat clear across the table from you, as far away as he can be.

Violet comes to sit at your side instead, not mentioning yesterday’s events, but she gives you a soft smile that says I’m glad you’re okay.

You return it, though it doesn't feel as genuine as hers— the cold feeling is long gone, but it’s been replaced with something else that feels just as terrible.

You push the feeling down, waving Sawyer over to sit at your other side and extending him his flight jacket with a soft smile. “Thank you. That was really sweet of you.”

“Of course,” he says, reddening slightly as he puts it back on. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he quiets when he sees you glance at the other end of the table, deflating when you realize Ridoc is already gone.

Ridoc continues keeping his distance. You stand between Rhiannon and Sawyer at morning formation, and sit with them during Battle Brief, Ridoc at the end of your row, uncharacteristically silent.

You don’t see him that afternoon; you haven’t manifested a signet yet, so you aren’t attending Professor Carr’s class. You choose to sit in the study room instead, a textbook in front of you that you hardly touch; you can’t bring yourself to focus.

It’s getting dark out before dinner these days, the winter solstice approaching quickly. It’s supposed to freeze tonight, you’d heard someone say this morning. How ironic.

You sigh, curling up in the chair and tucking your legs to your chest, trying again to start the reading you’d been assigned.

“Mind if I join you?” Violet asks, a matching book of her own in her hand.

You smile softly, gesturing to the chair opposite you.

She sits, but doesn’t take out a pen or paper. “Don’t take it personally,” she says quietly, being mindful of the few other students across the room. “It really spooked him when… that happened. I think he’s afraid he’ll hurt you -- or someone else -- again if he gets too close.”

You’re silent for a moment, your chest aching at the idea of Ridoc, warm, happy, confident Ridoc being afraid, feeling guilty over what had happened by pure accident.

“I talked to him, but I think he needs to hear it from you,” she says gently, opening her book and starting to read, ending the conversation there.

You gaze down at the text, not reading the words -- instead thinking of what you could say to him to make him feel better, to get him back into your life again.

“The truth,” your dragon suggests. “The whole truth.”

————————————————

As soon as Sawyer sees you, he knows what you’re here to do. He excuses himself quietly, mumbling something about forgetting his book upstairs before he shoves everything into his bag and practically bolting away — not subtle at all.

Ridoc blinks in confusion, looking up to ask his friend what the hell that was, but he falls silent when he sees you.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

You could nearly cry at the sound of his voice as he responds, speaking to you for the first time in two days. “Hi.”

You pause, just looking at him for a moment. He looks like he hasn’t slept well for a few nights, his usually vibrant curls and glowing skin flat and dulled. A few of his cuticles are bleeding — he must have been picking at them as a nervous habit.

It hurts you to see him like this.

“You can do this,” she encourages. “Speak from the heart.”

From the heart, you say to yourself. It should be easy enough to say the things you’ve wanted to tell him for weeks.

He speaks before you can, but remains seated, making no move toward you. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “I know saying it won’t change anything, but I really am sorry.”

You smile at him softly. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really. I slept it right off.”

You’d looked and felt so cold yesterday, but here you are, healthy and smiling, not mad at all.

“I’m still sorry. It was an accident, but if I had hit any harder, or hit you somewhere else, I don’t know…” he chews his lip, clearly still upset. “It scared the crap out of me, seeing you like that.”

You slide into the seat next to him and take his hand gently, interlocking your fingers. The warmth of your skin comforts him — that, and the fact you’re still willing to touch him after the other day, when that same hand had nearly frozen you to death.

“I never want that to happen again, especially not to you,” he says softly, gazing at your hands. “I really like you, you know.”

“You like everyone,” you say, not quite following. “That’s your whole deal. You’re easily the most likeable and easygoing guy in the quadrant.”

He cracks a smile, and you feel every ounce of stress melt from your shoulders at the sight of him happy again. “I’m glad you think so, but that's not what I meant.”

Your breath catches. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He can’t be.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, letting out a shocked laugh.

His face falls, and he pulls back, starting to gather his things from the table. “Forget it.”

“No, hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you,” you say quickly, reaching for his hand again. “I was laughing because I came here to say the same thing. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too.”

“Really?” he breathes, starry-eyed.

“Really,” you confirm. “I have been for a while.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, maybe a little too eagerly.

You smile. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

His lips are on yours before you can blink, soft and plush and perfect. He lifts his other hand, settling it on your waist ever-so-gently, stroking over the slightly tender spot in your ribs in a silent apology. The warmth of his palm against your side soothes the ache, relaxing you completely.

He pulls back after a moment, gazing at you softly.

“I think I’m more than pretty sure after that,” you breathe, stunned.

It’s his turn to laugh as he presses another soft kiss to your lips. “Me too, princess. Me too.”

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #31] The Photo Booth

warnings: THE photoboth chapter!!!! a legend amongst bd readers!!!! we meet jaykays mum (shes the best) and his dad (legend), byeol gets her own back for the 'daddy' debacle, teasing, shameless flirting, a lil dirty talk, jaykay is desperate and whiney (just how we like him!!), precum...swapping?? as much as it can be swapped lmao, jaykay does her glitter ::(((((, a date! between friends!! some would argue!!, photobooths, kissing !!!!, oh god I love them so much, very cute, mmmmmm the way he says goodnight!! or alternatively, the way he doesn't say goodnight!!, our babies are v confused <3 cos they are stewpid <33

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Mum? Dad?" Jeongguk calls into the entryway of his family home, pushing the door further open with his shoulder.

Your bag is hooked over his broad back, along with his own, Jeongguk not even considering it a favour. Just helps you out in little ways whenever he can, just because he can. You do what you can to make his life easier, and so it's reciprocated without a second thought.

Carrying a bunch of fresh flowers that had hastily been picked up from the shop across the street, you're a little nervous. There was no way you could show up empty-handed, but had been so scatterbrained when you left your place, it had completely slipped your mind. They're pretty pink posies and are something - which is always better than nothing, even if they aren't all that impressive.

"Oh, you're here!" A sweet voice calls from the back of the house. The sound of indoor slippers scuff against the wooden floors, as his mother scurries to greet you both. "I thought you'd call when you were on your way!"

"Sorry," he apologises and leans down to let the bags softly tumble to the floor, before outstretching his arm for a hug. "Left in a bit of a rush."

Squeezing his mother gently, his back eclipses her from your view. Hands patting his back, you think you can tell a lot about a person from their hands - and she's no exception.

Well-manicured, his mum clearly looks after herself. She wears just two rings - her wedding band and engagement ring. Gold. The only remaining elements of her wedding jewellery that had survived the '98 gold drive.

"Spent my whole life in that house," Jeongguk had said of his family home on the journey to Busan. He'd been opening up. Telling you tales that you'd have never heard if you had declined his offer. Is clueing you in on the life that formed him. Wants you to know. "They held onto it throughout everything. The financial crisis, turn of the century, everything. I'm lucky. We were never well-off, but they never let me know when we were struggling."

It explains a lot about who Jeongguk is, you think. Never wants others to shoulder his burdens. Keeps things bottled up until the glass shatters - but you can see through glass. You always know.

A modest three-bed, there's something nostalgic about the four walls he calls home. Though you've never been here, it somehow feels familiar - but that's perhaps more so to do with the scent of laundry drying, and the fact that Jeongguk uses the same fabric conditioner as his mother always has done.

Swanning Jeongguk out of the way, his mother greets you with a smile that could stoke warmth in even the coldest of hearts - and suddenly, you understand exactly where Jeongguk gets it from.

Dark, round eyes, and a smile as radiant as a spring day, she's got the kind of delicate nature bestowed upon Disney princesses. If you were to learn she'd been a model in her youth, you wouldn't be surprised. 

Introducing yourself,  you hold out the flowers for her to take.

"For you," you offer, a little shy and reserved, in a way that Jeongguk doesn't see too often. Your glitter - toned down today, for some reason - sparkles in the late afternoon sun that pours through the windows. "Thank you so much for offering to host me. I really hope it hasn't put you out too much-"

"Oh, don't be silly," she tuts, flipping her hand away as if to emphasise that it really is no big deal. "It's always lovely to have Jeongguk's friends staying with us."

She glances over to Jeongguk. Leans in a little closer. Whispers just loud enough for him to hear. "Plus I'm sure you'll be a far better house guest than Jimin ever is!"

"Mum!" Jeongguk goes to defend his housemate - but he knows his mother adores Jimin. Treats him like a third son. Knows she's creating an alliance with you, given the little lie Jeongguk told about you previously dating Jimin.

"What?!" She plays innocent, and it's suddenly so easy to see why Jeongguk is the way that he is. A product of the people around him, he soaks up their best qualities like a sponge in search of water. His playfulness must come from her. Taking the bunch of flowers, she smiles. "Let's go put these in a vase. You must be hungry."

"Ravenous," Jeongguk confirms, as if he didn't eat half an hour ago. "What's for dinner? And where's dad?"

"At the driving range," she tuts, encouraging you both further into the house.

Large and open plan, the sitting room is adjacent to the kitchen; a space designed for socialisation, it's clear that Jeongguk's parents enjoy hosting. It's no surprise that they agreed to let you stay without hesitation, and is also why Jeongguk had no qualms about asking.

"Minhyuk got a new driver that he wanted to show off, apparently," she continues. "A Titlelist. Got it in some dodgy back alley sale. Your father reckons he's been scammed, but Minhyuk reckons it's the real deal, so I'll guess we'll see."

"Minhyuk lives down the road," Jeongguk explains to you as his mum rummages around in a cupboard to find her favourite vase. He's smiling, amused by it all. "Bit of a busybody. Likes being in people's business, so Dad likes to return the favour. Petty middle-aged man shit."

"Watch your language," his mother scolds. He apologises immediately.

It's sweet, seeing Jeongguk like this. He's always been respectful, even if he does swear like a sailor and has a sense of humour that would send a prude to an early grave.

"As for dinner, I told your father to meet us at the samgyeopsal place you like down by the beach-"

"Ugh," Jeongguk smiles, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Don't know why you're thanking me," she hums sweetly as she arranges the flowers in the vase. A little lacklustre while they were still wrapped up, she manages to preen them to look far more beautiful. "You're paying."

"I'm- what?!" He whines, now, taking on the role of youngest son perfectly.

She's just joking, and you all know it - but you also know Jeongguk will likely try and cover the bill regardless. Glancing over to you with a cheeky grin, his mum playfully shrugs her shoulders. You return the smile, and giggle a little harder when Jeongguk continues to whine.

"Oh hush your moaning," she simply says. "Go take your bags through to your rooms. We'll head out in half an hour."

Jeongguk doesn't protest. Drags you along with him back to the entry hall to retrieve the bags.

"See," he says quietly, finding your shyness all rather curious. You're never normally like this. Never so quiet. "Told you there was nothing to worry about. Mum always likes my friends."

Picking up your bag to hoist it over your shoulder, you simply say, "Nerves are natural."

Jeongguk doesn't entirely disagree, but really thinks there's no need for you to feel this way.

"Yeah, if you're meeting, like, a girlfriend's parents," he says. "My parents are nothing to be scared of. Idiot."

"Doesn't matter if I'm not your girlfriend, Gguk. I still want them to like me," you remind him. "And let's be realistic here, parents aren't one for subtleties. You've brought a girl home and have hickies on your neck - I need to touch up the foundation, by the way. If they notice, they're gonna add two and two and get five."

"Well actually," he interjects. "They'll add two and two and get four. You are the girl who gave me them."

You laugh. He's got a point. "But I'm not your girlfriend ."

Yep , he thinks. Thanks for the reminder.

It's not like he even wants that. He knows that things are good as they are. Knows that any indication of things getting serious will likely make you run for the hills.

Things feel easy, now. He doesn't wanna do anything that will complicate it. Won't tell you how he's feeling, 'cause he knows the second it does, things will change.

He doesn't know if it would be for better or for worse, but he knows you. Knows his own lived experiences.

The mistakes made with Hayun have contorted his ability to go with his heart, because he knows the pain it can cause. Will take the nail-biting uncertainty of his feelings for you over the soul-crushing certainty of rejection any day of the week.

You're equally as shaped by your own experiences.

Once had a man who would declare his love for you on a Monday morning before his monthly business trip, only for him to spend the entire week in bed with a girl from the accounting department. You've no trust in words. No trust in anything, really, when it comes to matters of the heart. All you can trust is how you feel - but even that's a little more confusing than usual, these days.

"And thank God for that," Jeongguk teases, which seems to settle the woes within you. He tilts his head to the side and guides you up the hallway. "C'mon. I'll show you to your room."

He deliberately doesn't show you his own room. Will show you later, once he's had the chance to hide away most of the embarrassing stuff he hasn't touched since he was a teenager.

Instead, he leads you straight into his brother's old room, and winces.

"It's worse than I remembered."

Jeongmin's bedroom walls are coated in the Lotte Giants; like an oil slick on the surface of a road, or ice cream dripping down the side of a cone. Unsubtle, garish and impossible to ignore, the man is an interior decor menace.

Flags, shirts, commemorative posters, you name it; Jeongmin has it. You think he must have personally spent enough money to fund an entire season of the KBO.

It's a pretty inoffensive colour scheme - white, blue, red - but it's still an eyesore. The rest of the house is well-decorated. Tasteful. Roses do come with thorns, you consider. Maybe Jeongmin and Jeongguk's rooms qualify for that position.

"So your brother likes football?" You deadpan - although you're sure if there was a Lotte Giants branded football, you'd be able to find one in this room.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Doesn't even dignify it with a proper response.

"It's a miracle he even managed to get girlfriends during high school. This shit is... I didn't recall there being so much."

Signed baseballs, bobbleheads, foam fingers. God. It's endless. Trading card binders, house slippers, even a rubber duck. It's overwhelming.

"What about now?" You ask of Jeongmin's passion. "Still obsessed?"

"Less so," Jeongguk shrugs. "Did call his dog Seagull, though."

The prospect of a dog being called Seagull has you bursting into laughter. You half think Jeongguk is joking - but quickly realise he isn't. For some reason, that only makes it even funnier.

"Will he be at dinner? Your brother?" You ask, setting your bag down on the freshly made bed. The scent of laundry detergent wafts up, and it reminds you of being back at Jeongguk's place in the city. You've never felt more at home in a stranger's bedroom.

"Why?" Jeongguk asks, narrowing his eyes, remembering what you had said earlier. "You're not allowe-"

"Oh give over," you laugh. "You know I won't."

You've never seen his brother, but already know Jeongguk must be the brother. The one that the girls go crazy over.

Then again, Jeongguk did say that his brother is a fuck boy. Perhaps he's just as handsome.

Impossible .

Thing is, Jeongguk doesn't know you won't go for his brother. You made threats earlier. Knows he ignited a fire in you the second he pulled the 'Daddy' stunt. Knows you're competitive. Regrets it a little bit now. Only has himself to blame.

"Anyway, piss off," you playfully tell him. "I wanna get changed."

Jeongguk doesn't care. Takes a seat by his brother's desk, instead. Smirks. Raises his brows in that promiscuous, boyish way that always disrupts the butterflies who peacefully rest in your diaphragm. "Okay. Get changed."

"Gguk," you deadpan. He's pushing his luck, and he knows it. Glances over to the door. It's ajar, but pushed shut enough to obscure any unwanted eyes. Just means he needs to keep his deep voice quiet.

"What?" He flirts. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Your mum is down the hallway!" You whisper-shriek. Sometimes you forget how much of a boy Jeongguk is, and then he pulls shit like this.

The worst part?

You love it when he's like this; all cheeky and brazen, audacious in his quest to get what he wants.

And when it's you that he wants? Oh, it gets you all hot under the collar. He has that effect on people, you think. It can't just be you.

"So?" He licks his lips. Rakes his eyes down your body. Looks fucking hungry - and to him, you look like a 5-course meal he'd gladly get on his knees and beg for. "She's not gonna come in."

His lips press down against one another, tightly. His lip ring does the thing. You whine.

"Gguk."

"Byeol." He teases. "It's not like you're getting naked. Not like we'd be doing anything. Seen you in your underwear so many times."

He'd like to know that he still can. Wants to know he hasn't fucked it all up by getting you a little vulnerable earlier.

"Maybe I am getting naked," you whisper back, feeling challenged now.

"Are you?"

"Should I?" You tease. He sits up a little straighter. Tries to be subtle as his hand drops between his legs, the heel of his palm pressing against himself. Fails. You know he's adjusting himself. Know that it means he's getting a little excited.

"Think if you need to, then you should," he simply replies. "Just a little revision of a bird, no? Nakedness ? It'd be good."

You don't need to get fully undressed. Not in the slightest - and you're not gonna.

In fact, Jeongguk isn't gonna see anything - but you're still gonna fuck with him a little first. He deserves it after this morning.

You turn away from him. Shrug the jacket off your shoulders. Toss it onto the bed. Open up your bag, and have a little dig around.

"I'm not sure what to wear," you hum, sounding a little defeated. It's intentional. Want him to think you're being genuine.

Turning to face him, you hold lingerie in either hand. Packed deliberately just to fuck with him. Had figured you'd wear it discreetly, letting him know as and when he deserved to know. Would use it to wind him up - and not to give him any satisfaction. He's right in thinking he's ignited a little competition in you.

Didn't realise you'd take him to war, instead.

He's not seen you in either of these. Has never really seen you in your 'nice' stuff. All of your underwear is nice to a certain extent, because you're intentional with your purchases. Like feeling good beneath even a pair of sweats.

However, Jeongguk has only ever been treated to matching sets.

After all, you've never tried to seduce him. He's your friend. You fuck each other, sure, but it's cause it's comfortable. Safe.

The lace in your hand is far too exciting for your established arrangement.

In your left hand is a lace bodysuit. Mesh panels make up the structure, but it's the ornate, hand-sewn lace that really makes it beautiful. The neckline is fairly high, so sometimes you get away with wearing it at a top on nights out. Been a while since you went that risque.

In your right hand, it's a classic black garter belt. Jeongguk has no idea what the fuck they're called, just knows he likes them.

He swallows. Licks his lips. Doesn't know where to focus his eyes. Barely realises he's gripping himself now. Is so fucking hard.

"Which is your favourite?" You ask, eyes innocent, voice nonchalant.

Jeongguk thinks he'll die if you wear either.

"Both are fine," he manages to say, eventually.

"Fine isn't good," you pout.

"Well what do you want me to say, B?" He whispers, clearly a little frustrated. Not with you. With himself . "That as soon as you put them on, I'll wanna take them off you? They're fuckin' hot. Both of them. Fuck ."

He tilts his head back. Whines a little. Moans. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Think you might be a masochist," you giggle now, tossing the lingerie back down by your bag. Will save it for later. Poor boy is going through it. "You did this to yourself."

He looks at you with a huff and a frown that is far too sweet for the situation at hand.

"I'm stupid," he pouts. "Pea brain. You're the one with a big brain. You should tell me to stop doing pea brain things."

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I did," you smile fondly as you walk towards him - 'cause even if it looks like he's admitting defeat, you don't trust him yet. His cock is too hard to be making sensible choices.

Coming to a stop between his legs, you don't stop Jeongguk when his large hands stroke up the backs of your thighs. Your own hands are toying with his hair. It's all very amorous; affectionate despite the allure.

"You don't know that," he whispers, still. Cupping his strong jaw, you tilt his head upwards. Your hair is still up from earlier, and he regrets it now. Always loves it when your hair tumbles around his face. Likes being consumed by the entity of you. The scent of your shampoo, the softness of your well-conditioned hair. Heaven.

"You made a bad decision this morning," you remind him. "Would have done it even if I told you it was a bad decision."

Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks this is true. That instant gratification of his ' Daddy' stunt made it worth it.

Worth it at the time, at least.

He's not so sure, now.

Sinking to your knees, your hands stroke up his thighs. Jeongguk looks down at you, tongue wetting his lips. There's a change in his breathing. Anticipation.

"You know," you say quietly, making sure no sound travels at all. You're not looking to get kicked out of Jeongguk's house within an hour of being invited in. Looking directly at his hard crotch as your hands squeeze his thighs, you simper. "I really thought you were gonna take charge this morning. Thought you were gonna get me where you wanted me."

"Yeah?" he husks, pulling on his shirt, releasing it from the belt around his waist. Lifts it a little. Gets his abs out. Is doing shit he knows will make you salivate. One of your hands follows his encouragement and pushes up his chest. Hard beneath your warm hand, his body really is a gift from the gods.

"Yeah," you tease.

"What did you think, huh?" He says, his hand cupping your cheek to raise your gaze to his. It'd embarrass you, if it were anyone else; but for some reason, you don't mind worshipping Jeongguk unabashedly. Are on your knees like his body is your alter. Whisper words of sin like you're in a confessional. Pray that you'll never have to give this up. Religion is wasted on you, and Jeongguk is a false God, but you've never felt more holy than when you're committing cardinal sins with him. "Where was I gonna get you?"

Smiling in that coy way you so often do whenever he gets you a little vocal, your eyes rake back down his body.

"Right here," you shrug. Give him those eyes; the ones that make Jeongguk think he's seeing fucking stars. Smirk, before you say, "thought you were gonna get your cock in my mouth."

"Shit," he curses as you press down over the hard ridge in his pants. He's always so pleased to see you - especially like this. "You want that, huh? Wanna suck on it?"

Nodding, you bite on the lip, sin written in the constellations Jeongguk's gazing at. "Wanna make you feel good, Koo."

If Jeongguk doesn't get his cock in your mouth within the next minute, he's pretty sure he'll die. Has wanted it for weeks. Months . Wants you in any capacity he can get you, granted, but there are few things in life better than a good blow job. Good pussy, is, admittedly one of those things, but he already knows you have that. Thinks your mouth must be just as good.

His hands drop to his belt. Metal clangs as he races to get it undone. You let him. Don't stop. Watch on with sated pleasure as he hurries. Undoes his buttons, and then his zipper is down, too. His Calvins are on display. There's a teeny tiny damp mark showing through; evidence of how badly he wants you. "We don't have long. Be quick, B. Gonna nut so fuckin' fast."

Smirking, there's something so painfully endearing about how needy Jeongguk is as he untucks himself from his boxers. Thick and firm, his cock is just as pretty as it always is whenever he's desperate for you. The little bead of precum pooling at his tip is begging for your tongue, the freckle on his shaft deserving of a pretty little kiss.

And then you pull back. Look at his pretty, needy face and raise a brow. Poor baby .

"Said I wanna make you feel good," you smirk. "Not that I will."

You get to your feet. Walk away. Giggle to yourself as Jeongguk fucking whines as quietly as he can. Needs that door closed. Needs you to know that this balling is gonna kill him off. Head thrown back, cock in his hand, he's gonna fucking die .

"B," he growls a little, faux sobs echoing from his throat.

"What?" You smile. He looks like a fucking state, desire taking hold of the way he's staring you out, chest heaving a little bit. And then, to add insult to injury, you remember to 'address him properly'. "Something wrong, Daddy ?"

His face bunches up. Regret embeds itself into the lines on his face. He whines. "You're so mean, Disco Ball."

He's cute. Really fucking cute.

It makes you feel bad.

And fuck, you want him.

Seeing him like this gets you all sorts of fucked up - but he deserves it.

He watches you cautiously as you walk a little closer.

You crouch between his legs this time, instead of getting down on your knees. Replace his hand with yours. Have missed how it feels to have him in your grip.

Eyes on his, you watch as his chest begins to beat a little fast. His lips are ajar. Eyes forlorn, he's desperate . His cock twitches in your hand, so you tighten your fingers. A hushed moan lets you know he likes this. Likes every fucking thing about it.

Licking your lips, you position yourself a little better. Glance down. Think it's a miracle you haven't given him head yet. Have never wanted to choke on a cock more - cause what are friends for, if not that?

"I'm not mean," you whisper. You drag your wet tongue across the tiny slit that is fucking oozing for you. It takes everything in you not to give into what you want. "I'm so nice to you, Koo."

You've got a point to prove, though. Ease your grip. Stand. Replace the now empty space in your hand with his chin between your thumb and index finger, grasping onto it as you tilt him upwards.

You hold your tongue out, encouraging him to do the same - and without even a second fucking thought, he does it.

Eyes wide, Jeongguk wants this. Want you. Wants your tongue on his.

And what Jeongguk wants?

Well, eventually , he always gets it.

Your tongue swipes against his; traces of his own precum sinking onto his tongue, masking the taste of you.

He wants more.

Wants you to do it again. Wants to taste you. Wants you to sit on his lap, tongue in his mouth. Wants to be too fucking busy with his lips to remember how to breathe.

And, like always, he will get it - just not now.

Eventually, yes.

Immediately, no.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day, B," he whines as you walk away from him again.

"Good," you smile, talking at full volume now. Playtime is over.

You do, however, take off your shirt, and let him watch. All he can see is your back, but even that drives him insane. He can't remember the last time he was this worked up without any indication of a release. He's been horny all fucking day.

Pulling a fresh shirt over your head, you're a little sad to see he's tucked himself away when you turn around again.

"Go get ready," you say fondly. "We don't have long."

Jeongguk is pouting. A crease between his brows, he looks hard done by.

" So mean."

His stroppy demeanour makes you laugh. It's so classically him. A Ggukism, if you ever did see one.

"That's what you get for making me call you Daddy," you say quietly. Find it funny how much of a baby he's being - and consider that maybe he's the one that is better suited to the nickname.

He whines again. Louder this time. You glance to the door. Make sure you're still without disturbance.

You want to call him baby.

Just because it works, and it's funny, and - fuck it - maybe it'd be nice.

But it would also be a step too far, you think.

"Shush," you say affectionately, not accenting your command with 'baby' like you really want to. Instead, you walk over to him and cover his mouth with your palm. "What if someone hears you whining, huh? I don't wanna have to tell your mum you've just been tasting your own cum in your brother's bedroom, do you?"

"You're so fucked up," he wails, feeling incredibly hard done by. He needs to learn how to resist you. Never wants to have to endure this again.

"We're so fucked up," you correct. "I wouldn't be so mean to anyone else - but you deserved it."

He can't even argue against it. He knows that this is a product of his own creation.

"Go, get yourself sorted out," you encourage him along. "We don't have long."

He nods. Sighs. Gets to his feet, and does his trousers back up. Is convinced he'll die before your trip to Busan finishes if this is the game you're playing.

Leaving you to get ready (and to let his raging boner die, even if he won't) Jeongguk returns within 15 minutes. He's nonchalant, as if what happened the last time he was in the room was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

You're sitting by the floor-length mirror (which is, of course, adorned in Lotte Giants memorabilia), doing your makeup. Hair claw-clipped now, Jeongguk is a little sad to see your space buns go, but understands why. You seem to be a little more demure than usual.

He nudges his knee against your back, gentle in how he touches you, your body swaying ever so slightly.

"Don't," you smile, pulling the liquid glitter away from your face. "I'll get it in my eye."

There's an innuendo to be made there, but Jeongguk knows better. Just smirks. Plonks himself down next to you; cross-legged, knees up, arms hugging around them. He looks like a condensed version of himself like this, sitting as close to you as he possibly can just so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Little disco ball," he says fondly, watching you dab the glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes. It's not something he often calls you these days, but there's something about hearing the name now that makes you smile.

"Strange, isn't it?" You muse. "This time last year I was just disco-ballin' in your club. Didn't even know your name."

He nods. Smiles. "And now you're in my brother's bedroom turning yourself into a disco ball."

"Funny little lives, we live," you muse fondly. How far you've both come. If it wasn't for the glitter, you don't think you'd recognise yourself.

"Would you have ever predicted it?" he asks. Knows he was intrigued by you from the very moment he first saw you. Has no idea what you thought of him. Wonders if you had 'what if' thoughts about him. Who he was. Who he could be. What you could become. "That you'd end up here?"

"Honestly? Sorta wanted to curl up and die after you found me in your living room."

The memories are a little hazy, but you still remember the look on Jeongguk's sleepy face in the early morning sun that was intruding on his living room at the time.

Jeongguk nods. Smiles. Remembers it far better than you do. "Yeah, wasn't your finest hour."

You turn to look at him, chin resting on your shoulder. There's a glow about you now that Jeongguk can't seem to get enough of. Wants to drink you in like purple starfuckers at 2am in the heat of full-capacity Dionysus nights.

"I mean, I don't know," you say with a small shrug. "How often do you become friends with your punters?"

"Not often," he admits. "How often do you become friends with your bartenders?"

You're coy as you smile. "Not often."

Not ever, actually.

Yeonjun doesn't count - you've never spent any time with him sober, even if you do always enjoy seeing him behind the bar. Even then, it doesn't compare to the way you seem to light up whenever Jeongguk is serving your drinks.

Jeongguk's the first. The only.

Taking the liquid glitter from your hands, Jeongguk scoots a little closer. Gets more product on the wand, and sets the tube down beside him. Pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb.

There's no opposition from you; just a silent acceptance of Jeongguk dictating your movements. Lips parting as he draws a little closer, there's apprehension to the way your eyes flicker between his own pair and his lips.

Jeongguk is pleased, but tries not to let it show. Fights his smile. Battles the inner voices telling him that kissing you would be a good idea.

Breath hitched as his dark eyes survey your face, you're regretful of the way your body responds to him. Friendship tainted by desire; a natural by-product of fucking someone you really care about, you think.

It's no secret that you adore each other, but doesn't everyone feel so fondly about their best friends?

He's slow as he dabs the end of the wand against your cheek, following around the curve of your eye socket. Jeongguk always thinks you look so pretty when you highlight yourself with glitter there. It catches the light so easily that he always notices it. Might have even been the first glitter of yours that he notices in the dreary lights of Dionysus, the hedonistic haze of neon lights and dark shadows creating the disco ball effect he likes so much.

"There," he says quietly as he finishes evening it out. "Pretty little star."

"Careful," you say back just as quietly. "You'll give me an ego."

"Just returning the favour," he jokes, screwing the wand back into the tube, his hands working quickly. "The Daddy thing really did a number on my ego this morning."

Rolling your sparkly eyes, you gently push him away.

"Fuck off, Jeon," you playfully reprimand him for mentioning it again, getting to your feet. Smoothing out your clothes as you check yourself over in the mirror, you're pleased to see that Jeongguk has applied your glitter just the way you like it. Dabbing it out slightly, your heart swells a little with how attentive he is.

Still sitting exactly where he was, Jeongguk strokes up the inside of your leg. It's all very innocent. Just touching you 'cause he likes the comfort that comes with it. You're in sheer tights, there's a softness to them that Jeongguk likes. He tries to forget the garter belt you were holding earlier. Doesn't think you'd wear it out for dinner with his parents.

He's right.

No matter how hot it might be working him up in public, you're not about to go and do it in front of his parents . You have some morals at least, even if Jeongguk does make you momentarily forget about them from time to time.

Reaching down, you scratch his hair a little, just behind his ear. Eyes closed, he leans into your touch like a little puppy dog. So docile and devoted. Cute.

"C'mon," you encourage him, but remain fixed in position. Head versus heart. Wanna stay right where you are in the cocoon of Jeongguk's family home with him, but know you have places to be. "Shouldn't keep your mum waiting."

He nods, head resting against your leg. Sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

You offer him a hand up, of which he gladly takes. Checks himself over in the mirror. Is still wearing the outfit he drove in. Considered changing, but he's aware of the way the girls at the service station were ogling him earlier. Knows the outfit probably has something to do with it.

He doesn't mention the change of your outfit; the fact that you're wearing a white shirt too, now. It's tucked into a little black skirt, he's certain you're probably gonna wear those slightly worn out Converse of yours - and he intends on doing the exact same.

"C'mon, kids!" Jeongguk's mum calls up the corridor, echoing your thoughts about needing to leave.

It's nice, you think, to be grouped with Jeongguk in such a way. Makes you feel like this is the way it's always been. Doesn't matter if you're in your twenties, and Jeongguk's mum met you an hour ago. There's an acceptance of you; of your place in her son's life.

He glances over at you, scrunching his nose a little. Is a little awkward. Likes the idea of you being part of his life since childhood. Is sad it'll never be the case.

"You heard her. Let's go."

Ushering you back down the hallway, a hand on top of your shoulder, thumb rubbing the nape of your neck, there's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk always finds an excuse to touch you.

It's not scary, nor daunting in the way that you always deem intimacy to be, but it is something . Gets you feeling a little flustered. Has you wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, as if he was tickling you.

"Stop annoying the poor girl," his mother scolds fondly as you come into her line of vision, which just simply earns another protest from Jeongguk.

"She's the annoying one."

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

It's all in good humour, and his mother appreciates this. Likes seeing Jeongguk goof around, especially knowing how stressed he's been lately. Has barely called. Missed his father's birthday to study.

All she wants is for her children to live happy, fulfilled lives, and if there's one thing to be noted about Jeongguk's current demeanour, it's that he's undoubtedly happy.

Whether or not that has anything to do with you, she doesn't know - but she wasn't born yesterday. His desire to visit home is understandable after the pressure of his studies. He needs rest - and somehow, he factors you into that rest.

Of her two children, Jeongguk's always been the more introverted one. He needs his time to recharge. Would be the life and soul of the party at school, then come home and remain silent until dinner time.

For a few years, it bothered her. Thought that maybe Jeongguk was unhappy at home - but it was quite the opposite. It's his safe space.

And now he's bringing you into it.

"Is the room okay?" she asks you, knowing that the sheer amount of baseball memorabilia in Jeongmin's room is... a lot to take in. "Interior decoration was always more of Jeongguk's speciality. Had Jimin to give him pointers. Jeongmin... Well, he had an acquired taste... As you've probably already gathered."

Laughing a little, you nod. "It's grand. Thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it - and I grew up with a Lions-loving Dad. I'm used to it."

"Ohh," his mother winces, then addresses Jeongguk. "Keep this one away from Jeongmin."

You also turn behind you now, raising a brow. He's just rolling his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

"Samsung Lions - and their fans - are the scum of the earth in Jeongmin's eyes," he explains, then looks over to his mum. "Is he coming to dinner? Do we need to sit them at opposite ends of the table?"

Shaking her head, she laughs. "No, he's got plans, apparently. I did tell him you were visiting, but you know what he's like."

Jeongguk just sort of accepts this answer. Nods. Shrugs his shoulders, as if it's to be expected. An air of disappointment clouds around Jeongguk, lips pursed, eyes stern.

He and his brother are cut from the same cloth, but have been sewn together with different stitches. For all their similarities, they have stark differences, too. This one has always been the most challenging for Jeongguk; how little his brother seems to care about maintaining a good relationship.

Jeongmin seems to think their status as brothers is enough to keep the bond strong. Doesn't seem to care about fostering an actual friendship with him.

It's part of the reason why Jeongguk is so reluctant to let go of friendships that no longer serve him. They're filling a void. He never wants to be the one who gives up. Doesn't wanna be the reason things fall apart.

"Alright," Jeongguk's mother smiles at you both. "Ready to go?"

It surprises you that she's the one driving to dinner instead of Jeongguk - but it makes sense, given the fact you and Jeongguk will stay in the area afterwards.

She insists that you sit up front, even if all forms of hierarchy would dictate that Jeongguk should be there instead. He doesn't complain. Sort of likes how you and his mum are ganging up on him like a little team.

When you arrive at the samgyeopsal place, his father is already waiting.

He's everything you expect him to be: funny, a little dramatic, and the spitting image of Jeongguk, just with a few more grey hairs and even deeper creases beneath his eyes. Introduces himself with as much gusto as a cartoon character; full of life and pleased to have another person to relay all of Minhyuk's misdemeanours to.

You learn more about the Busan Driving Range circuit than you ever could have predicted - specifically about Minhyuk, the legitimacy of his 'bargain' driver, and how Jeongguk's father is convinced he's been tampering with his balls.

Jeongguk chokes on his drink when his dad mentions that last point. Earns himself a talking to for thinking with such a dirty mind - but after a few drinks, his parents are giggling about it, too.

There's something incredibly easy about being around Jeongguk's parents. It's no wonder he's grown into the person he is.

You feel a little shy. Don't understand the in-jokes at first - but someone always explains them to you. Normally Jeongguk, but sometimes his mother. Never his father, 'cause he'll go on a twenty minute long tangent explaining the lore and the back story. They've learnt this the hard way.

Still, he's a dab hand when it comes to grilling the meat. Takes charge of it all. Plates his wife up first, always. You second, Jeongguk third, and then himself. Head of the house, he takes his place in the hierarchy seriously, but not at the expense of the ones he loves. Will make sure they're provided for first.

Jeongguk is much the same. In charge of refilling the soju and beer, he'll pour for his father first, then mother, then you. Puts the bottle down before he fills his own, which is when you step up and fill his glass. He'll nudge with you his knee beneath the table to make you wobble, but never enough to make you spill it.

Subscribing to drinking norms is something that you never really do with Jeongguk. He's a bartender, after all. Things are always a little unconventional. He's normally the one making you drinks and sorting himself out, too.

Something about this feels incredibly domesticated. Natural. Pleasant.

By the time dinner is done, Jeongguk's parents have to order a taxi. Had a little too much to drink- but you're bloody glad for it. Made it a lot easier for you.

"Your parents are fun," you beam, walking down the promenade of Gwangalli with Jeongguk. It's your favourite of all the busy beaches in the city, but you rarely ever get the chance to see it after dark. There'll be a drone show, soon. You've definitely never seen that. Can't wait for it.

"They sure are something," he laughs, a little embarrassed. They have big personalities, which he's glad of, but he knows they can be a bit much sometimes. "Dad drinks well, so we probably had a bit more than we should have done. Sorry."

Shaking your head, you don't mind in the slightest. Are at that giddy stage of drinking, where everything seems marvellous, and bad decisions cosplay as good choices.

"Are you forgetting how we met? I don't mind having one too many, Gguk."

"True," he agrees, checking the time on his phone. Still a good half an hour before the small show. It's just a free thing that the city council puts on every night, not a huge deal to him anymore, but he understands why people romanticise it. Knows that you have to see it.

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk checks the road before he crosses, dragging you along with him.

"Hm?" You squeak, taken by surprise. A little tipsy, your reflexes aren't as fast as usual, just like tipsy Jeongguk isn't as good at voicing his thought processes as sober Jeongguk usually is.

"Photos," he simply states, leading you into a small retail unit that houses only photo booths.

It's the standard set-up: wall partitions between self-timer camera units, and curtains instead of doors to the small spaces. Each booth has a different colour background, adding to their own individual charms. The walls of the entryway are lined in discarded pictures; friendship groups, couples, first dates, anniversaries, birthdays. Life events, big and small. Moments of time captured to last forever.

Accessories and props are abundant in the entry area - hats, glasses, wigs, signs. Your favourites are always the headbands. Kitty ears, normally, though sometimes you branch out into bunny ears if you're feeling fancy.

There are five booths in total along the back wall, but one in particular grabs your attention: the one advertising Sanrio-themed frames instead of the standard solid colour outline.

"Oh my god," you gasp, and then it's Jeongguk's turn to squeak with confusion. You point to it. Specifically, to the My Melody and Kuromi figures by the bottom of the ad. "It's us."

He smiles. Doesn't really understand your hyper fixation. Agrees nonetheless. "It is us."

The pair of you goof around, picking props. Jeongguk learns that you find him in any sort of animal ears absolutely hilarious, but the second he puts on a yacht captain's hat?

"Take that off right this second," you tell him, voice stern, eyes wide.

He's bemused. Snorts a little. Teeth on show, he's dangerously pretty. So handsome and yet such a little shit. "Why? Like it?"

You turn your nose up. "Hate it."

"I know you're lying," he laughs. Tilts it down. "Is this getting you all hot, B?"

"I'm leaving," you say, because it's so much easier than saying yes.

Something about him in a white shirt, with that hat? White with a navy peak, gold embroidery on the sides? God, you see why the old money girlies like boatmen so much. Decide that you're never getting on a boat with Jeongguk if you want to retain your sanity.

He takes it off. You don't even realise it, but you pout.

"You're so confusing, Byeol," he says as he playfully puts it on your head - and then he's feeling all fucked up too.

Something about a captain's hat. Just really does the trick.

You've both had too much to drink. There's no reason for you both to be getting flustered because of a stupid hat and yet -

"I don't think we should ever touch hats again," Jeongguk says very quickly.

But then you put a pair of kitty ears on and he starts questioning whether or not furries are actually kinda onto something.

He furrows his brows. Picks up a pair of ears. Bunny ones. Black. They're satin and a little too sexy, he thinks, but he's gotta see himself in them.

And when he does?

He kinda gets why girls dress up like cute animals for fancy dress parties. Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet - but shit. He does look cute.

"Oh my god, YES," you exclaim when you clock his new attire, and quite literally drag him to the booth. He gets no say in the matter, and honestly doesn't care. Is having too much fun with you to take any of this seriously.

You pick the Sanrio framed booth, because of course you do. Jeongguk pops his card in the slot, and lets you click through on the options that you want - 4cut, vertical frame. The classic style. Your favourite.

Turning to Jeongguk, you tweak his glasses a little. Can't decide if they look better hiked up, or further down his perfectly sloped nose.

All Jeongguk can think about is your nose, and much he wants to nudge his up against yours.

And so he does just that.

Doesn't give a fuck.

The camera flashes.

You're caught, forevermore, in your state of Jeongguk-induced hypnosis. The pictures will survive beyond you. Will be stored in boxes to be looked at once, maybe twice by future generations.

One day, no one will know the name of you nor the boy you're with. They won't know how the scent of his aftershave lingers, nor the way your soft exhale of air sounds as you smile. Your present will be lost to history, this photograph? Your legacy.

Nothing will be known of you, and yet this picture alone will tell them everything they need to know.

"We're gonna waste shots," you whisper. The booth takes six photos, but you'll only be allowed to choose four for the printed picture at the end.

The more to choose from, the better.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. Holds your neck just beneath your jaw. Strokes across your cheek with his thumb. Looks at you with sparkly eyes and a boyish smile that is just begging to be kissed. "Don't you wanna see what it looks like when we kiss?"

"It's intimate," you remind him.

"Maybe - but it's also fun," he reminds you.

The camera flashes again. That's two shots wasted, now.

If you let this carry on, it'll be three, and then one of them will have to be used in the final print.

And yet as Jeongguk nudges against your nose a little deeper, you let him.

When his lips ghost yours, you let him.

When his lips press down, you let him.

You'll let the third photo be taken, because you'll be too busy kissing him back to pay attention.

The fourth, too.

Lips on yours, Jeongguk kisses you in a way that he hasn't done before. It's delicate, and gentle, but his lips are strong. Intentional. There's no intrusion of tongue, no fervent need to get you moaning, even though it feels like you will regardless.

Your brain screams at you. Something about rules, and breaking them.

You ignore it.

'Cause all you can think about is the way this feels.

You don't think you've ever had a kiss like it.

And it's terrifying.

It's not until the fifth shot flashes that you both pull away; smiles smitten, eyes glossy. Both of you felt that. Ain't no way he couldn't have.

You think that maybe that's even more terrifying.

And so for the sixth shot?

Both of you pretend to throw up, disgust plaguing your giggly smiles and blushed cheeks.

There's distance between you, but as soon as the camera flashes, Jeongguk is pulling you back to his side again. It's just so that you're both ready to look through the pictures that are about to pop up on the little touchscreen. He's being helpful. Glances down at you, and has to stop himself from pressing a kiss into your hair.

Things are just so easy with you.

As soon as the pictures load, you're laughing. "We have to retake these."

"No, no, no," he swats your hand away, then taps on one of the photos, adding it to the preview frame. "My jaw looks really good in this one."

It's shot number four. Mid kiss. His hands on your cheeks, yours out of frame because they were on his waist. His jaw really does look fantastic - but it's sort of devastating when you realise just how happy he looks. He's smiling into the kiss. The most devastating thing of all?

So are you.

"How is that even us," you giggle. Seems so bizarre to see yourself like this.

"Gross isn't it," he smiles, adding more of the pictures to the frame, but you're the one correcting him now, tapping his hand to move him out of your way.

"We need them in order," you say. "A chain of events."

Eventually, the order is settled: the nudging of noses, the innocence of a kiss with the sin of Jeongguk's sharp jaw, the slightly startled look in both of your eyes as you'd pulled away, and then, of course, both of you pretending to vomit.

As they print, you pick out props for the next set of photos - Jeongguk in a pair of purple heart-shaped glasses and a Kuromi headband, you in that damn sailor's hat - and discuss which poses to actually do. This time round, it's all peace signs and finger hearts; goofy angles too close to the camera and a little laughter to set the tone.

"C'mon," Jeongguk says softly as you finish sliding the pictures into the thin plastic sleeves next to the booths. He normally doesn't bother with them. Likes that you seem to care about preserving the integrity of your memories. Hand outstretched, he encourages you to take it.

"Your bird," he says. "Said we'd do it in Busan."

The look you give him is coy, eyes a little sultry, lips a little pouty.

When you're silent, Jeongguk laughs. "Hold my hand, B."

"Getting a little date-like, don't you think?" You say of the night, but Jeongguk just shrugs.

"So? We'll just call it practise."

"Mhhm," he nods, shaking his hand a little because you still haven't held it. He's impatient. It's only as you take his hand that he begins talking again. "You don't wanna go back into the dating world unprepared. What if Mr Mechanical Engineer tries to hold your hand without you being ready for it?" He squeezes your hand, leading you out the door. "Let's get you used to it."

The mention of Seojoon makes you feel guilty. About him? About Jeongguk? You're not sure. It's something you need to figure out. Something you need to figure out fast .

And yet as Jeongguk holds both yours and his shoes in one hand, your hand firmly secured in the other, you choose not to think about it.

Just think of the sand, and how it will be a bitch to get out of your tights. It's sort of like your glitter, in a way.

But just like Jeongguk wouldn't trade your glitter for anything, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything either.

Neither of you say much. Just listen to the waves rolling in. Listen to other people's conversations. Listen to the whir of the drones as they start up and get into position. The show begins. Won't last longer than ten minutes. The silence is comfortable.

He holds your hand, and you move them to your lap in a bid to keep them warm.

Jeongguk isn't really feeling the cold. His heart is simply burning too brightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says as the show draws to a close.

"Me too," you whisper back fondly. "It must be nice to be home."

"Well, you know they say," he muses. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

Been at home for months, B.

You breathe through your nose, exhaling a sincere smile. Could say a million things. Could say nothing at all. Could ask what he means, but you're taking it at face value. Genuinely think he's just happy to be home.

"We should visit more often," you suggest.

"I'd like that," he nods as he squeezes your hand. "You wanna go explore the night markets?"

Grinning, you get to your feet immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jeongguk leads the way. Shows you his old haunts. Gets you hotteok from his favourite stand down by the promenade. Shows you the arcade machine he once spunked away 50,000 won on and didn't even win a prize. Shows you the initials he and Jimin caved into a pavement curb fourteen years ago. Took them hours. Both got blisters. Worth it though. They're embedded in the city, forevermore.

He takes you down memory lane, and you find it's your favourite street to visit with Jeongguk. You love his history; learning what shaped him. Who shaped him. Where.

Not once does Jeongguk let go of your hand.

Not down the markets, not along the beach, not in the taxi home, even when he doses off for a moment, head resting on your shoulder.

Not once. Not until you're both home, and he's saying goodnight outside of his brother's bedroom door. He's still toying with your fingers. Isn't even gonna suggest the idea of doing things you know you shouldn't.

Doesn't wanna taint the night.

In the morning, he'll blame all of his bad decisions on the alcohol. Will say he was tipsy, even though you stopped drinking hours ago.

He hugs you goodnight. Lingers a little too long. Too close. Nudges his nose against yours. Brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"This..." he whispers. "This is what it should be like."

His jaw tenses. He holds himself back from pressing his lips against yours like he so desperately wants to. Knows he's already said too much. Pulls himself away from you, to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lip ring is so hard, and his lips so soft, that it makes you feel all sorts of fucked up.

The most fucked up thing of all?

How badly you want his lips on yours.

But then he fucking walks away .

Closes his door. Shuts you out.

The evening had been so simple. So straightforward. Casual. Nothing confusing in the slightest. You were happy. So was he.

And yet as you lie in bed, all that rattles around in your head for hours on end is the question: what the fuck is happening to us?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[vanfleeter]

Black Smoke: Chapter 1 - Look At Me

Pairings: Jake x reader Warnings: Smut (minors, please stay away), swearing, a little bit of fluff, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, boudoir photography, (let me know if I missed anything). Author's Note: I saw someone wondering about photographer!jake so I thought I'd try to write one myself. I'm still learning how to smut so bare with me. 1923 may have inspired the ending of this fic sooo I might continue this.. Summary: When you accompany your friend to a photoshoot, you capture Jake's attention and he becomes enamored of you.

Black Smoke Masterlist

Sliding out of the car and closing the door behind you, you look over at your friend, Kylie, who simply smiles at you. She convinced you to come with her to a photoshoot she booked for her business. She’s always been nervous being in front of the camera so of course, like the good friend you are, you went with her to be her hype person.

“You finally get to meet Jake.” She beams. “He’s an amazing photographer.”

Jacob Kiszka. Owner of Black Smoke Photography. He’s most prevalent in outdoor photography, but he offered to shoot her business photos indoors in a studio loft that he owns in the city of Nashville.

Stepping into the studio, you’re in awe of how bright it is with the natural light coming in through the warehouse windows. The total opposite of the usual photos that he takes. For the majority of his photos, they’re dark and moody so finding the studio space full of light and warmth is a complete one-eighty degree turn.

Upon hearing your entrance to the studio, Jake peers over the ledge of the balcony that hangs above the door. His hands grip the railing, the rings on his fingers clinking against the metal. He smiles. “Hey Ky.” He says. “Give me just a couple minutes and I’ll be down.”

“Sure thing Jake!”

Coming down a spiral staircase, Jake stands before the two of you dressed in a white, linen button down shirt with only a few bottom buttons holding it closed at the bottom of his abdomen and a pair of khaki pants cropped at his ankles. Cognac colored loafers adorn his feet. His many rings decorate his fingers while a couple necklaces hang around his neck. His hair hangs down in loose waves stopping at his shoulders.

A bright smile spreads across his face as he moves across the room to you two. “Good to see you again Ky.” He says as they embrace in a hug.

“You too, Jake.” She says. “I want to introduce you to my friend, (Y/N).” She adds when they pull apart. “(Y/N), this is Jake.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He says, extending a hand. The skin of his hand feels rough yet warm against yours and he has a firm but delicate grip.

“You as well,” You say. “I’ve checked out your work. It’s all really good.”

He smiles and retreats his hand. “Thank you.”

“I love how bright it is here.” Kylie says as she looks around the studio. “So different from your normal style.”

“I took a look at the theme, or aesthetic, of your business and it looks very bright and airy so I thought keeping with the theme would make it easier and more comfortable for you.” Jake explains as he follows her through the studio space.

You follow a short distance behind him. You couldn’t help but watch how his biceps flex underneath the fabric of his shirt sleeves. Kylie catches you staring and you immediately look away feeling the slight warmth of your cheeks as you blush. She shoots you a smirk.

“Shall we get started then?” She says as she sets her things down by the table that’s littered with Jake’s equipment.

Jake nods his head and makes his way to the table. He picks up one of the many camera bodies and attaches a lens to it. He turns back towards Kylie and directs her on the stool. “Don’t fully sit on the stool, kind of lean against it with your legs crossed at your ankles.”

“Like this?” Kylie says as she follows his directions.

“Perfect.” Jake says as he snaps a few candid shots as she positions herself against the stool. “Now cross your arms over your chest and give your best serious face.”

During shots and new poses, you’d make silly faces behind Jake to keep Kylie comfortable and confident and bring her out of her shell. When it comes down to the serious poses, you stayed over by the monitor that showed the shots Jake was taking. Each one popped up on the screen until one of you came up. A side profile shot of you as you look at the monitor. Looking over at Jake, you catch him shooting you a smile before he turns back to Kylie. You feel a slight blush on your cheeks again as you turn back to look at the monitor.

After a few more shots, Jake lowers his camera. “How about we take a break?” He says.

“Good, I’m starving anyways.” Kylie says making Jake scoff.

“When are you not?” He says.

Kylie retrieves her purse. “I’m gonna go out and get food. Do you want anything?” Both you and Jake shake your heads. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

“Do you want me to come along?” You ask.

Kylie shakes her head. She glances over at Jake who has gone back to messing with his camera and not paying attention to the two of you. She wags her eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes making her snicker. She pulls out her car keys and heads for the exit leaving you alone with Jake in the studio.

As Jake continues to mess with his camera, adjusting the settings and cleaning off the lens, you walk over to the window and peer outside at the cityscape of Nashville. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow on everything it touches. Including you. Jake takes notice of you by the window. The golden hue basking warmly on your face and brightening your eyes. He lifts his camera up to his face and points it at you. He snaps a few shots capturing you in your own little world.

He clicks his tongue like he’s calling a cat. You turn your head with your brows furrowed and he quickly snaps a few more photos.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some candids.” He says.

“I am not your client today.” You say folding your arms over your chest. “I’m only here as moral support for Kylie.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders. “Free session on the house.” He shoots you a wink and lowers his camera. You lower your head as you smile and bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re a natural.”

You roll your eyes and look back out of the window. “No, I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t argue with someone who owns a camera and has an eye for this stuff.” He says.

“Oh, cocky much?” You say folding your arms over your chest. “Kylie never mentioned you having such a big ego.”

Jake scoffs. “I do not have a big ego.” He says. “An ego, sure. A big one? Not by a long shot. I just have an eye for seeing naturals.” He walks over to you and reaches his hand out to your face to tuck a strand behind his ear. “And I have an eye for finding beautiful girls.”

You giggle and shake your head. “Big ego and a flirt.” You say. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

“Oh so you’re my client now?” He inquires. “I thought you were only Kylie’s moral support?”

“I am not your client.” You say as you lean against the window.

“So it wouldn’t be wrong to kiss you since you’re not my client?” He says stepping up in front of you. “I may have been taking photos of Kylie but I’ve been looking at you most of the time.” He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. “This past hour has been pure torture not knowing how soft these lips must feel.” He lifts his eyes to yours. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You look between both of his eyes. Now that you’ve really looked into them you can see that they’re a russet shade of brown. They’re gentle when looking at you. And if eyes could smile, his sure are.

You simply nod your head. Gently he caresses your face in the palm of his hand as he leans down to kiss you. Feeling his lips press to yours you could feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach. Slowly he pulls away. You open your eyes to find him staring at you. A smile spreads across his face.

“I was right. They are soft.” He says.

A soft giggle escapes you making him chuckle. Stepping away from you he sets his camera on the table. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips where he presses a soft kiss upon your skin. He smiles when he sees the goosebumps rise along your hand and up your forearm.

Softly and slowly he leaves a trail of kisses up your arm before stopping at your shoulder. He glances up at you with his eyes asking for permission to continue. You simply nod your head and he presses his lips to your neck and trails up to the back of your head. A light gasp slips out and he smiles against the side of your head.

He pulls away slightly and moves back to your lips to kiss you. He drops your hand and moves his hand to cup the back of your neck. He leans in between your legs and presses against you. You can feel how hard he is already. The feeling ignites a spark within your core and the heat builds.

“Is this okay?” He asks as he slips his hand underneath the cotton fabric of your shirt. No words came from your mouth so you nod your head once again. “Uh uh,” He hums. “I need words.” He says stopping the movements of his hands.

“Y… Yes..” You force out. Your own hands cling to the waistband of his pants pulling him as close as you possibly can.

He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it off and over your head and drops it to the floor by your feet. You grab his shirt and unbutton the last few buttons of his shirt and slide it off his shoulders and down his arms. He shakes it off his wrists and lets it fall to the floor. He goes to reach for you but pauses.

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you okay?” You ask.

He folds his arms across his chest as he looks you up and down. He rubs his chin as he thinks.

“What’s on your mind, photo boy?” You say.

His eyebrows raise and he looks at you. “Photo boy?”

“I’ll think of something else eventually.”

Jake smiles before turning in his feet and walking over to the table full of his equipment. “Have you ever done boudoir before?”

You shake your head. “I’m hardly ever in front of the camera to begin with.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Basically sexy photos.”

Jake nods his shoulders. “Pretty much.” He says as he grabs a film camera. “Would you be comfortable doing it?”

“Well.. I..”

“You don’t have to,” Jake says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just a fun, little idea.”

“I could try it..” You say. “But Kylie..”

“Knowing Kylie she probably went to some sit down restaurant, ordered herself a nice big juicy steak and some wine. She does it all the time.” Jake says as he walks back over to you. “Though abandoning her friend with someone she’s hardly met is not like her.”

“Ehh,” You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not the first time.”

Jake laughs. “Well I guess we know different versions of Kylie then..” You crack a smile. “So..” He adjusted the dials on the camera. “Shall we?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing.” You say as you push off the window.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.”

Jake brings you over to the other side of the room where a couch rests against one wall and a coffee table sits in front of it.

“Lay down on the couch on your back and just relax.”

“Okay..”

As you walk over to the couch and begin to lay down, he stops you. “Wait..” He sets the camera down on the table and approaches you. “If you’re gonna keep your jeans on, we’re gonna make it look sexy–er.”

You giggle at his save. He unbuttons your jeans and pulls them slightly down just enough that they’re still on your hips but showing a little of your underwear. Black lace is what you chose for today. It even matches your bra.

“Well..” Jake clears his throat. He backs away and retrieves his camera. “Now lay down and relax.” You do as you’re told and you lay down on the couch. You shift around a little to make yourself comfortable amongst the red velvety cushions. “Comfortable?” He asks. You nod your head. “Good. Take your arms and kind of drape them over your head. Think of Rose from Titanic.”

You hum in understanding. “Jake, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls…” You recite the line and change out Jack for Jake. “But you know.. Photographing me..”

Jake smiles as he lifts the camera up to his eyes. “French girls don’t compare to you, love.” He says as he presses his index finger down on the button, snapping a photo. “I take it you like Titanic?”

“I love it.” You say, not daring to move just yet. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s okay..” Jake shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t move..”

He climbs onto the couch, straddling your waist. “Lift your chin so you look just slightly behind you.” You follow his direction. “Just like that, perfect.” He snaps another photo.

You can still feel how hard he is when he applies slight pressure to your waist as he continues to straddle your body. He finally climbs off of you and moves away from the couch.

“Feel comfortable enough to take your pants off?” He asks.

You nod your head and slip them off. His jaw nearly falls to the ground when he sees just how wet you’ve become.

“Fuck..” He gasps. He lowers the camera. “I’m so screwed..”

You giggle. “It’s your fault.”

“I uh, I–well..” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Okay umm.. Uh..”

“Do you want to continue?” You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Jake opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out before he closes it. He picks up the camera again and holds it up to his face. The pose you were in with your legs crossed in front of you while your elbows held you up nearly made him want to put the camera down and fuck you right there.

“Lay your head back..” He says. You do and he snaps another photo. “Take your bra off.” He says, sounding more demanding. “I-If you want to.” He quickly adds.

You could tell you were making him nervous all while turning him on. Not once did you anticipate this ever happening. You barely knew the guy and yet you were nearly naked on a couch inside of his studio while he took photos of you all while hard as a rock inside of his pants. This man wants to fuck you. He’s just bursting at the seams.

Obliging to his order you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor.

“Good,” He says. “Now lay on your stomach, one arm hanging off the couch.” You follow his instructions. “Look at me. Perfect.” He bends his knees to come down to a better angle and snaps the photo.

Setting the camera on the table, he kneels in front of the couch. “You’re so beautiful.” He tilts your head back to kiss you. “Turn back over.”

You do as he says and roll back over onto your backside. His tongue flicks out between his lips. He cups his left hand around your right breast as he leans down to suck on your left breast. Goosebumps once again cover your skin. A moan falls from your mouth as your head falls against the cushion of the couch.

You slide your hand off the couch and to his body. Slipping your hand underneath the hem of his linen pants you palm his cock eliciting a groan from him. He pulls his lips off of your nipple and looks up at you.

He pulls your hand out his pants and holds it up above your head. “No.. It’s all about you sweetheart.” He says.

“Jakey..” You whimper.

“Jakey?” He says. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

You sit up and grab his face in your hands. “Stop talking and fuck me.”

Almost immediately he pulls you off the couch and swings you onto his waist. He carries her upstairs to the loft.

“I wasn’t expecting this to be up here.” You say as he lays you onto a bed.

“There’s a lot you won’t be expecting.”

He grabs your jeans and pulls them the rest of the way down your legs and tosses them to the floor. “Black really compliments you.” He says before discarding his own pants. He licks his lips as he stares at your underwear. It’s already soaked with your juices. Nudging your legs further apart, he reaches over to grab the fabric of your underwear and drags them down your hips and your legs. He presses the fabric to his nose and inhales.

“Smells good?” You ask.

He nods his head. “Mmhmm.” He hums, making you laugh. He tosses your underwear to the floor and leans over top of you.

“You’re such a pretty girl.” He says as he moves down to kiss you. “My pretty girl.”

“What am I?” You say. “A dog?”

He laughs into the crook of your neck. “I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?”

He lifts his head. “No one has ever made me feel the way you make you feel right now.”

You giggle and tangle your fingers in his hair. “Just relax.” You tell him. “And breathe. Do what your body tells you to do.” You brush his hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ear. “What is your body telling you?”

“I want to touch you..”

You guide your hand down his arm and to his hand that rests on your hip. “Then touch me.” You move his hand from your hip and rests it in between your legs. You feel him ghost his fingertips along your center before using his thumb to rub circles into your clit.

“Does that feel good?” He asks.

You nod your head, your hand gripping tightly to his arm. He inserts his index and middle fingers inside of you. Your mouth falls open as a moan tumbles out.

“Oh…” You gasp.

“You like that?” He says as he slowly pumps them in and out.

“Y-Yes..” You stutter.

Just like he did earlier, he cups your breast with his other hand as he sucks on the other. His tongue laps around your nipple before sucking on it again. He never loses the rhythm of his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

“You’re so warm and slick against my fingers.” He says when pulling away from your breast. “But I want to feel you on my tongue.”

Moving further down the bed he removes his fingers from inside you. You whimper, missing the feel of his fingers. You watch him as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. His eyes roll and he groans.

Getting down on his stomach, he doesn’t waste any time as he brings his mouth down to your center. He drags his tongue in a slow lick against your folds.

“Fuck.. Jake..” He hears you moan.

He does it again and curves his tongue to dip in between your inner folds. Your hands fly to his hair and grip lightly to his loose waves. He inserts his fingers alongside his tongue. He’s pulling double duty and you love it. He knows you love it.

“Jake..” You moan. “Jake, I’m–”

He hums against you in response as he keeps working you closer to your climax. He curls his fingers inside of you. He feels your walls clench. “Cum for me..” He says before diving back in.

Slowly the fire in your core burned hotter and hotter. “There it is love.” He says. Like licking an ice cream cone he laps up all of your juices as they spill out from within you. Your thighs are clenched around his head, his free hand digging deeper into your outer thigh as he licks you clean and helps you ride out your orgasm.

Once you have relaxed, he leans back on the bed to admire you. Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you catch your breath. When you look into his eyes, they’re no longer the soft and gentle eyes you saw earlier. Now they’re darker, full of lust and hunger. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth before climbing backwards off the bed.

“Don’t move..” He orders before running back down the spiral staircase. He comes back a minute later with a different digital camera. Resting it on the bed, he grabs hold of your leg and pulls you down the bed and laying your legs around his hips. He grabs the camera.

“Cup your breasts,” He says. “But turn your head to your left, keep your eyes focused straight ahead of you.”

Follow his direction. He watches your hands as they wrap around the soft lumps on your chest. With your head turned and your vision solely focused on a photo hanging on the wall, you can hear the click on the camera.

“Beautiful.” He sighs.

“No one will see these?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “Only for my eyes.” He says. He licks his lip and lowers the camera. “I want to try something.”

He climbs back off the bed and walks over to the other side of the room. He retrieves a tripod that rests against the railing of the loft and brings it over to the bed. Bringing it back over to the bed, he sets it up off to the side of the bed and connects the camera to it.

“What do you have in mind?” You ask turning over onto your side to watch him while he works to put his idea together.

“Something I’ve never done before.” He says. He adjusts the settings on the camera and looks through the eyepiece to make sure it looks exactly what he’s envisioned in his head. He straightens up and rests his hands on his hips. “Lay down on your back.” He says. You do as he says and he walks back over to the bed.

He climbs back onto the bed and nudges your legs apart with his fingers before slipping off his boxers..

“Are you filming a sex tape?”

Jake lets out a boisterous laugh and shakes his head. “No, not a sex tape.” He says. “Have you ever seen in movies how the angle of the camera captures two lovers in bed, the girl on the bottom, the guy on the top–classic sex pose?” You nod your head. “He has her one hip propped up on his waist, his hand resting on her thigh,” He explains as he moves you two into said position. “He’s leaning over her as she looks up at him. She’s got the look in her eyes of pure adoration, kind of like how you have it right now.”

“And you want that photo?”

“It would be a classic.” He says.

A smile cracks on your face. “Then let’s do it.”

“But I want to make it look natural.” He says. “I want us to be in the moment.”

You can feel his length rub against you. “Then what are you waiting for?” You say.

Readjusting himself, he guides his cock to your folds and slowly slides inside. Both of you moan in content as you relax into each other.

“You feel so much better wrapped around my cock.” He says. He slightly wiggles his hips before pulling out slightly and pushing back inside. He fits inside of you just perfectly. As if you two were made for each other. “This feel alright?” He asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You can tell that he’s becoming more confident by his fluid movements. He has one hand holding up your leg on his waist and driving in deeper.

“Jake..” You moan. You link your arms underneath his and dig your fingers into the skin of his back. “Fuck..”

“You’re taking me so well..” He says. He lays an open palm on your lower abdomen. He can feel his cock inside of you which only turns him on more. “I fill you so nicely.”

“Mmmm..” You hum, your eyes fluttering closed. You feel him twitch inside of you, his hands fly to your sides and hold you tighter as he continues thrusting in and of you.

“Babe, I’m getting close.” He says.

Your eyes open to look up at him. His head is thrown back, his eyes screwed shut. “Babe?” You say.

His movements pause and he lowers his head. “What?”

“You called me ‘babe’?”

“Oh I-”

You smile. “I like it.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah?” He leans back down and kisses you. “You’re my babe?”

“Don’t jump too far ahead.” You say. “I said I liked being called ‘babe’.”

He chuckles as he begins moving again. “I like calling you that.” He says.

His thrusts were getting sloppy as he continued on. You can feel the burn again in your core.

“Jake..”

“Yeah baby, I know..”

Both of you hit your climax. You can feel him spill inside you. The warmth of his cum mixing with the warm feeling in your core only made you feel more good. Your back arches pushing your bodies closer together. You both ride it out together as he slows down his thrusting.

Being so distracted by your own orgasm, you were unaware of the camera snapping a photo. Jake’s face is buried in the crook of your neck as he sucks on your skin.

Once you both come down from your climax, he pulls out of you and lays out on the bed beside you. You roll over to lay over his chest. He wraps his arm around your body and pulls the covers over both of you.

“Can I take one more picture?” He asks, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You just can’t stop, can you?”

“You’re just so beautiful.” He says.

You go to sit up to let him get out of the bed but he pulls you back down and shakes his head. “I thought you-”

“With my eyes.” He says. “Where it’ll be permanently.”

You could hear sadness in his voice as he spoke. As if he’ll never see you again after today.

“Jake..” You sit back up. “Are you okay?”

He inhales. “I had fun today,” He says. “With everything, including this…”

“But..” You prompt him to continue going.

“I have to leave..” He says. “I have this opportunity to photograph wildlife in Africa and it’s a great opportunity.”

“Sounds like fun too.” You say smiling down at him. “Just don’t get eaten by lions.”

He scoffs, a smile spreading across his face.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to go?” You say leaning on your elbow.

Jake inhales deeply before exhaling. “It’s going to sound crazy..”

“Nothing is too crazy. Tell me.”

“Being with you today, I don’t ever want to let you go.” He says. “Sex with you was great and it wasn’t rushed. I felt–connected to you.”

“Well all things considered..”

Jake chuckles. “Aside from that literal aspect, I mean..” He sighs. “I know we literally just met today but I felt..something. I want to be with you. I don’t want to leave you.”

You smile. “I’ll still be here when you get back. I ain’t going anywhere.”

Jake pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Come with me.” He says.

“C-Come with… Me?”

Jake nods his head. “There’s something about you. Something that I want to keep with me.”

“Jake, I… Africa is… I mean… You really want me to come with you?”

“If you don’t, I will…” A voice by the stairs comes.

Both you and Jake look over to see Kylie standing by the stairs. A smirk plays on her face as a blush creeps across yours.

“You two definitely had fun while I was gone.”

You hide your face in the crook of Jake’s neck making him laugh.

--

To Be Continued...

[5starluvr]

What’s up danger

Paring: Lee Minho × Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Violence, blood, arguing, mentioned injuries

Wc: 2.9k

Spider Kids

The air crackled with nervous energy as Y/N fidgeted on the edge of the worn armchair. Lee Know, ever the charmer, was sprawled across the worn leather couch, his phone clutched in his hand, a playful smile dancing on his lips. Yet, a flicker of unease flickered in his eyes, a telltale sign she knew all too well.

"Min," she started, her voice laced with concern, "You haven't touched your pizza in ten minutes. What's wrong?"

He glanced up, the smile morphing into a sheepish grin. "Nothing, just... superhero stuff."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Superhero stuff, huh?" she repeated, the playful edge to her voice barely masking the worry gnawing at her. Dating a superhero, especially one as reckless as Spider-Man(or should she say, Minho, his real name), was a constant battle between exhilaration and terror.

Minho sighed, the playful facade crumbling. "There's a rumor about a potential attack downtown," he confessed. "The Wrecking Crew. Nasty bunch."

The Wrecking Crew. Four brutal villains with a love for causing city-wide mayhem. Y/N's stomach lurched. "You have to be careful, Minho," she pleaded, using his real name, the one reserved for these serious moments. "Promise me you'll be careful?"

He reached out, his hand engulfing hers in a warm, reassuring grip. "Always," he murmured, his eyes locking with hers. The intensity of his gaze sent a jolt through her, a silent promise that transcended words.

"….I didn’t know you had a twin sister in thought she was you!," the man fumbled on screen. Y/N chuckled, glancing at Minho beside her. He was leaning back, eyes closed, but a smile played on his lips.

Just as Y/N reached for the popcorn bowl, a jarring emergency broadcast cut through the movie soundtrack. "Attention all citizens," a stern voice boomed, "there have been reports of a large-scale villain attack in the Central District. Please stay indoors and avoid all non-essential travel."

Minho's eyes snapped open, a flicker of concern replaced by a steely resolve. Before Y/N could react, he was already pushing himself up.

"I have to go," he said, his voice strained.

Y/N's heart lurched. Minho's secret life, the one that constantly put him in danger, reared its ugly head once again. She knew arguing wouldn't help, so she simply nodded, worry etching lines on her forehead.

Minho disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Curiosity gnawed at Y/N. She knew better than to pry, but her worry wouldn't be quelled. Taking a deep breath, she crept towards the bedroom door.

A muffled thump came from within, followed by the rustle of fabric. Y/N hesitated for a moment before gently pushing the door open a crack.

Minho stood with his back to her, pulling on a sleek, blue and red suit that clung to his athletic frame. The familiar mask, with its large, expressive eyes, laying on the bed beside him. He was about to reach for it when he turned, his eyes widening in surprise.

Their gazes locked for a moment, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them. Y/N knew the weight of responsibility he carried, the fear she could never fully understand. But there was another emotion too, a spark of something more in his eyes as they met hers.

"Y/N," he started, his voice a low murmur, "you shouldn't be here."

Before he could finish, Y/N surprised both of them. Stepping fully into the room, she met his gaze defiantly. A playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Maybe not," she said, her voice husky. "But you know what? You look hot in that suit. If you wouldn't have to save the city right now, I'd let you…"

Her voice trailed off suggestively, but the message was clear. A blush crept up Minho's neck, a stark contrast to the red of his mask. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips beneath the fabric.

"Later," he promised, his voice tinged with amusement. "Go lock the door and stay safe."

He quickly donned the mask, the playful glint in his eyes now replaced by a determined glint. With a final, lingering look at Y/N, he swung out the window, disappearing into the storm-ravaged night.

Y/N watched him go, a mixture of fear and pride churning in her stomach. She knew he'd be back, and when he was, they'd have a lot to talk about. But for now, the city needed Spider-Man. And Spider-Man needed to focus on saving the day.

———

The rain hammered down on Spider-Man's mask as he swung through the deserted cityscape. Sirens wailed in the distance, a mournful symphony to the chaos unfolding in the Central District. Below him, flashes of crackling energy split the darkness, illuminating a scene of utter mayhem.

Leach, his body shimmering like a living puddle, cackled as he surged through a police barricade, leaving a trail of soaked debris in his wake. Around him, a motley crew of villains reveled in the destruction: Crackle, crackling with a corona of electricity as he overloaded a city bus, Magma, his body glowing like a furnace, melting a fire hydrant against fleeing civilians.

Minho landed lightly on a fire escape overlooking the scene. This wasn't a random attack; it was a coordinated effort. His spider sense tingled, a warning prickling the hairs on his arms. He needed to take them down one at a time.

"Alright, party's over, crackheads!" he boomed, his voice amplified by the mask. He swung down a blur of red and blue, landing with a crouch right in the middle of the villains.

Leach whirled around, his watery form roiling and churning. He launched a wave of water towards Spider-Man. The web-slinger dodged with practiced ease, the years of experience battling these very same villains giving him an edge. He shot a web at Crackle's crackling hands, momentarily interrupting his electric rampage.

"Enjoying the light show, Sparky?" Lee Know chirped, launching himself at Magma who was about to use his molten fist to smash a nearby newsstand.

Landing a solid kick on Magma's fiery shoulder, Spider-Man disrupted his concentration. The villain roared in frustration, his form momentarily cooling and hardening before erupting back into a molten state.

Minho weaved through the chaos, using his agility and wit to his advantage. He dodged a bolt of lightning from Crackle, deflecting it with a well-timed web shield towards a nearby streetlamp, effectively short-circuiting the villain's powers for a crucial moment.

Leach, however, proved a more formidable opponent. His water form shifted and reformed, making it difficult for Lee Know to land a solid punch. One of Leach's tendrils lashed out, capturing Spider-Man's ankle, yanking him off balance and sending him crashing into a storefront window.

He winced, the sting of broken glass digging into his arm. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, masking the pain. He couldn't afford to lose focus. Not with lives hanging in the balance.

Using the debris of the shattered window to his advantage, he launched himself at Leach. He webbed one of Leach's tendrils, anchoring it to a nearby drainpipe. With a mighty tug, he ripped another tendril free, throwing Leach off balance.

Seizing the opportunity, Spider-Man delivered a series of quick punches to the center of Leach's form, disrupting his concentration. With a final, sputtering gurgle, Leach dispersed into a harmless puddle of water on the pavement.

One down, three to go. But Spider-Man could feel the fatigue creeping in, the adrenaline starting to wear off. He glanced back towards the fire escape he'd landed on earlier, a flicker of blue and red catching his eye. A ghost of a smile crept under his mask.

The fight with Crackle proved to be the most brutal. The villain, a wiry figure crackling with raw electricity, danced just out of Minho’s reach, taunting him with a manic grin. Each time Minho closed the distance, Crackle unleashed a jolt of lightning, forcing him back.

"You can't touch me, bug-boy!" Crackle yelled , sending another bolt sizzling toward Spider-Man. He sidestepped it just in time, the smell of burnt ozone stinging his nostrils.

Thinking fast, Minho scanned his surroundings. He spotted a fallen power line, its wires sparking in the rain. Without hesitating, he used his webs to snag a metal traffic sign nearby. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the sign flying towards the downed power line.

There was a blinding flash of light as the sign made contact, a loud crackle echoing through the night. The streetlamp sputtered and died, plunging them into temporary darkness. Crackle, momentarily disoriented, stumbled back.

Seizing his chance, Spider-Man launched himself at the villain. He tackled Crackle to the ground, effectively pinning him down. With a concentrated effort, he wrapped the villain in a web cocoon, neutralizing his electrical powers.

"Looks like the power's out, Sparks," Minho quipped, his voice strained from the exertion. Crackle, trapped and sputtering in frustration, was no longer a threat.

Only Magma remained. The molten villain, having recovered from Spider-Man's earlier attack, loomed large, his body radiating heat.

"You're finished, Spider-Man!" Magma roared, raising a molten fist for a crushing blow. Minho knew a direct hit would mean serious injury. He needed to outsmart him.

His eyes darted around, searching for an advantage. Then, he spotted a fire hydrant a few meters away. With a desperate gamble, Minho shot a web at the hydrant's valve, yanking it open with all his might.

A torrent of water erupted from the hydrant, catching Magma by surprise. The hissing water cooled his molten form rapidly, turning him brittle and vulnerable. Spider-Man capitalized on his moment of weakness, launching himself at Magma and delivering a powerful kick to his chest.

The impact shattered Magma's hardened exterior, sending shards of cooled rock flying. The villain crumpled to the ground, defeated, his body solidifying into a human form.

The world spun slightly as he leaned against the wall. The rain, which had felt like a million needles earlier, now seemed almost soothing. He let out a shaky breath, the exhaustion hitting him like a tidal wave. Now that the adrenaline had fully receded, the pain bloomed across his body. His left arm throbbed with a dull ache, a souvenir from Leach's watery grip. A sharp sting came from his shoulder, courtesy of Magma's molten fist.

He winced, gingerly flexing his fingers. Maybe he'd pushed himself a little too hard tonight. But the thought of the city in chaos, of innocent people in danger, was enough to quell the self-pity. He had a job to do, and tonight, he'd done it.

With a tired sigh, Minho reached up and peeled off his mask. The cool night air felt like a balm against his heated skin. He glanced back towards the fire escape, a flicker of blue and red catching his eye earlier. Now, it was empty. Putting his mask back on and heaving himself to his feet, Spider-Man shot a web toward a nearby building. He swung through the night, the familiar rhythm a comfort despite the dull ache in his muscles. He needed to get back, to clean up, to assess the damage – both to the city and to himself.

The familiar outline of Y/N's apartment building rose ahead. He landed silently on the fire escape outside her window, the same place he'd left just a few hours ago, what felt like a lifetime. He debated knocking, his body screaming for rest, but something tugged at him to see her.

He tapped on the window lightly, a familiar signal they'd established. Moments later, a light flicked on inside and Y/N's face appeared at the window, framed by concern. Her eyes widened when she saw him, his suit rumpled and singed.

Minho!" she cried, ushering him in. "What happened?"

He winced, a grimace twisting his features. "Hey, Y/N," he rasped, his voice strained. "Just...a little accident."

He moved stiffly, favoring his left arm, which hung awkwardly at his side. Alarm bells clanged in Y/N's head. Accidents didn't explain the fear that flickered in his eyes, a fear she'd only seen once before, the night he'd stumbled in, muttering about "crazy robots" and "near-death experiences."

"Accident, huh?" she said, her voice laced with suspicion. "Looks more like a villain massacre ."

Minho's eyes widened for a fleeting moment before he plastered on a wan smile. "Something like that," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Y/N wasn't stupid. Minho was Spider-Man, the city's masked protector. A truth he'd revealed in a moment of vulnerability, a truth that bound them closer. But his secret life scared her. Tonight, that fear morphed into anger.

"Minho, how many times do we have to go over this?" she snapped, her voice shaking with a mix of emotions. "You can't continue this for long if you come home like this !"

Minho flinched, his smile faltering. "I had to, Y/N. People were in trouble."

"Fuck,i know but what about us?" she cried, tears stinging her eyes. "What about the plans we make, the promises you break?You’re going to get really hurt some day…"

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Shame flickered across Minho's face, battling with his determination to protect her. He reached for her, but she pulled away, her heart a tangled mess of fear and affection.

"Go to the bathroom," she said, her voice tight. "I’ll clean you up."

Minho nodded, defeat etched on his face. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Y/N alone with the storm raging outside and the one raging within her.

Moments later, the bathroom door creaked open.Y/n emerged, with a clean shirt in her hand for him. She looked at him, his left arm was secured in a makeshift sling fashioned from a towel.

"Y/N, I…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Look," she said, her voice softer now, but no less firm. "I get it. You have a responsibility. But you also have a responsibility to me, Minho. To be honest, to take care of yourself."She said as she began unpacking the first aid kit.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that made her heartache. "I know," he said, his voice low. "I messed up. I was so focused on protecting everyone else, I forgot about you."

He reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly over hers. Hesitantly, she met his touch. His fingers were warm against her skin, a silent apology.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his eyes searching hers. "I promise, I'll be more careful. From now on, no more secrets."

Y/N stared into his eyes, momentarily stopping her movement. The anger had subsided, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that mirrored his own.

"Promise me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Promise me you'll come home to me, no matter what."

Minho pulled her into a semi-tight embrace, the warmth of his body a soothing balm against her worry. "Always," he murmured against her hair.

"Minho?" she whispered, her voice laced with worry. "Does it hurt a lot?."

His heart ached at the tremor in her voice. He offered a tired smile, hoping it wouldn't come across as a grimace with the throbbing in his arm.

"Just a few bumps and bruises," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "But I'm okay. I Promise, my love."

Taglist:open | If your user is red i can’t tag you

Taglist: @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne

[slippinninque]

💕💋Mwuah 💋💕

Fontaine shows his appreciation during date night

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+, Smut, cursing, mentions of smoking/weed, slight exhibitionism, greedy!fontaine, frottage, , car sex,

Fontaine pulled back with a soft breath, mouth still slack enough for heavenly golds to shine in the left over light of the drive-in.

"Don't blame me too bad," He rasped, eyes stuck to where he was still flicking your nipples, "You had 'em sitting so pretty for me--shit, y'know what it is."

"I got hot, wasn't tryin' to seduce you..."

When you attempted to turn away, Fontaine pinched and you jolted with a moan. Fontaine made his own noise, a mix between a hum and a taunt.

"Ain't gotta try at all, pretty. You put 'em out for me, ain't wearin' no bra or nothin'! You expect me to not greet the girls? My favorite ladies..."

He sat up further until he could wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest as he teased you. He shifted from side to side, your nipples sparking against the fabric of his shirt as he murmured about your 'pretty titties'.

What was supposed to be a spontaneous date night was now turning into ruined upholstery and chaffed things.

The day started off so nicely. The breeze was pleasant and the sun was showing it's face more and more as hours went by. You were just getting home from work when Fontaine called, you both decided that it would be a waste to stay indoors.

You only had time to shower and grabbed a lavender hoodie to toss over your soft pink tube dress before you left out the door and got into the Pontiac.

Fontaine met you with a kiss and passed you a sweet tea. He proposed that you both go see what was playing in the drive-in since it opened for the season.

You rolled a few blunts while Fontaine went to grab a few snacks from the concession. There was a creature-horror right after a gritty looking action film you were both interested in seeing but if you ended up crawling around for other features, no one had to know.

Eventually you and Fontaine were in the back row up against the fence near one of the exits . The view wasn't great in this lot, but the hook-in window speakers were great quality from almost never being used.

After the first hour and the half, the Pontiac was smoked out and you were finally getting to the reruns when Fontaine hands started wandering. Last sensible thing you recalled was giggling at his flirting and challenging him that you were too tall to sit in his lap comfortably.

You should have known better when Fontaine suggested you both 'stretch out in the back ' because stretch out where? Too bad for you your head was floaty and you were already feeling saucy from your banter.

He started by pulling you closer, the hand on your thigh going up and up and up until he gentle cupped one of your breasts. You gave him a side eye as he pretended not to notice, rubbing his thumb over your nipple as if he were just holding your hand.

Then he noticed that you went braless in your haste to make the showing. It went downhill from there, his eyes blowing black as he fondled you in earnest. He kept it cute until you couldn't contain your noises, until the seat creaked from you rocking in his lap.

"Lemme make you more comfortable, baby..." He slipped his thigh between yours, groaning emphatically when your eyes fluttered at the friction. You mumbled some excused about modesty but couldn't hear his response as he buried his face back between your breast.

Everything felt so good. Being surrounded by Fontaine's smell, being fondled so teasingly--the atmosphere began to melt away, only down to the heady gaze of your man.

Still, the distant sound of movies playing and crunching gravel electrified every touch you received.

"I know that face," Fontaine tsked softly, "Whatchu thinkin' about while I got you like this?"

"Where you got me while you got me like this..."

Fontaine rolled his own hips, thrusting up so you were easily able to ride his thigh to your content. You shivered and pulled him closer, scratching his scalp as he enjoyed you.

"I got you real nice, don't I?" He grinned up at you, nuzzling closer until he could run his tongue over what he didn't tease with his hands.

He alternated groping you over the hoodie, pushing it up and peppering kisses around your areolas, leaving his mouth open enough for you to see his tongue as it twisted around your nipples.

Fontaine sat back and bounced them in his hands, holding them and staring before letting them rest and focus on moving you across his thigh. You whined when you felt your slick start to spread, dampening and dripping but Fontaine paid no mind.

"Tryna hide them big, pretty nipples from me. I thought you loved me, girl..."

You couldn't help the laugh that fell from you as Fontaine lewdly sucked the darkest brown of your peaks.

What the hell was wrong with you? The thought of being caught should have been enough to shrivel your little flower right on up, but with it's last bit of sense your mind conjured up the worst case scenario.

The thought was filthy and fleeting but it was enough to push you over the edge, your hips jerking as your orgasm knocked the rest of your mind over. The cry you let out reverberated through the car, your fingers dug into his shoulders.

A security guard or attendant flashing their light through the inky parking lot, catching the Pontiac's windshield to see Fontaine's burning eyes glaring over your shoulder as you gave him what he wanted.

He kissed you like he could taste your surrender. Fontaine's hands crawled up the back of your dress, pulling until it was bunched above your ass. His hands were back, deliciously calloused as they ran up and down your sides.

You panted up at the ceiling, head swimming as you tried to pull yourself out of your spasming clit. There was no way he was done with you so soon.

Fontaine's hands slid up the back of your neck to bury his fingers into your hair, straightening you so you met his gaze head on.

"Do you wanna cool down?"

The parking lot was virtually empty, all the other movie-watchers either asleep or occupied in the late-early hours. The Pontiac was alone in it's row, swathed safely in darkness.

You were already clit to denim and you had Fontaine looking at you like he caught a star. Still, he gentled his touches and was already resettling your hoodie back in place.

Biting your lip, you felt your head lighten even more as you decided fuck it. It's date night.

Pushing lightly at his shoulder until he was fully reclined, you pulled the wettned hoodie over your head. Fontaine rubbed your thighs and quickly leaned up to meet you once the fabric was out the way.

"What if someone sees? " You asked, teasingly but mostly curious as you searched for Fontaine's lips in the dark "And call me names?"

"If they call you anythin', it better be 'Fontaine's'."

Afterall, you had nothing but space and opportunity as your date night was still young.

His growl coated your lips and he felt him fumbling between you for his zipper. Breathless and eager, you hurried to help.

--------------

Ending notes: another fic that would not leave me! Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think!! Fontaine would love you from heel to hair lmao

✨Taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @mcondance @sageispunk @wide-nose-and-wonderful @kindofaintrovert @hunnishive @ms-angiealsina

(sorry I missed a lot of peeps BUT I'm literally hiding in the workplace bathroom publishing this HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💋💕✨)