#it’ll all make sense when i write it

[the-whispers-of-death]

Should Serial Killer!Stone’s post be titled “Crossroads” or “A Crossroad”?

Questions, questions.

(Oh, this reminds me, I will now be taking asks that deal with Serial Killer!Stone, Felon!Stone, and death again.)

[wearenotswans]

brb 💗

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[san8ny]

can you pls write nerdy ellie? it can be sfw or nsfw

HOT! HOT!

?: Ellie is alot of things: She’s well articulated, She’s liked around campus, but for the life of her, she cannot get laid. It’s gotten pretty embarrassing, maybe you can help? - NSFW - Excuse me for any spell checks!

!: My mutuals have really yummy fics about nerd!Ellie so please let me know if you’d like any recommendations. - Thank you for your anon, means sm to me baby

You stare at her with an incredulous expression, the sight alone being one of pure unbridled shock upon this new-found discovery.

“Never?”

“Never.”

She reaffirms after you, running a nervous hand through her auburn tresses to ease the silent tension in the air. Ellie Williams, all around “good at fucking anything,” is a virgin. The thought alone was something that poked curiosity and incredulity. You knew she was quite kept to herself, often times busying with books and videogames, but this was something you didn’t expect. I mean, she was with Dina at one point.

You don’t want to make her make her more uncomfortable than the topic is, so you give her some form of comfort; “It’s quite normal, honestly, I don’t even blame you in this society.”

That earns you a laugh and a slight snort from her, throwing her head slightly back. “Yeah?”

You return a chuckle, shrugging, “Yeah, but you’ve atleast kissed before, right?

She immediately quiets down, olive-toned cheeks flushing with a light wash of embarrassment.

Holy fuck.

If you weren’t shocked before, you were gawking now.

“D-don’t look at me like that, man..” She groans, tossing her glasses onto the coffee table as she buries her face in a nearby decorative throw-pillow. “No, no— I don’t mean in a bad way, just surprised.”

“Surprised?” She murmurs softly, staring at the dim dorm lightbulb that hangs above them, “That’s a first. Dina usually calls me forcibly celibate.”

You want to curse yourself at the noise you let out, eyes watering as you slap your mouth with a cupped palm. Ellie side-eyes you with a scoff as she gets up from her seat, “Yeah, Yeah, Alright—“

“I’ll be serious! I promise.” You call out, reaching for her wrist to sit her back down, to which she does.

“Have you ever, like, considered it, though?”

Her interest piques at this turn, reaching for her glasses back, “What? Having sex?”

Well, duh.

Ellie hums, thinking about it for a second, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it..” She trails off, wiping her lenses with the corner of her graphic-tee, before putting them on. “Only to someone I really like.”

“Aw, that’s actually really sweet, I actually had a friend once who—

“Which is why I want you to fuck me.” She bluntly puts, staring at you four-eyed.

. . .

“Come again?” You cock your head out, “You want me to..?”

She inches forward, nodding like a bobblehead, “Yeah! It makes sense. You’re my friend, and I like you, so it’ll work.” You sigh, shaking your head, “Ells, it doesn’t work like that. What if you regret it?”

“So you’d agree to it if I don’t regret it?” She smiles, tone a bit ecstatic as she sees you entertain the idea.

She really was putting you on the spot, huh?

You stare at her for a bit, studying her face. She seemed enthusiastic about getting the opportunity to even lay hands on your soft skin. Saying you were pretty was an understatement, you were the epitome of wet-dreams; She was head over heels pretty much in-love with you, and the idea of even losing such a prize position like her virginity to you symbolized things she could only dream about.

You roll your eyes as you both kneel on her mattress, her fiddling with your bra like it’s the most complicated thing. “This shit is a death machine, holy smokes.”

Holy smokes?

When she finally succeeds, she’s jittery and giggling to herself, scooting back into the pillows to get a good look at your beautiful breasts. “They’re so fucking hot, ohmygod..” Next thing you know, she’s cupping them softly, kneading the fleshy dough in circular motions, gaze fixed on the way your back arches ever so slightly, eyes fluttering. So she is doing something, right?

She leans her head down, giving your perked areolas experimental licks, opting to suckle them when you give her the green. Your hand finds itself buried in her hair, massaging her tender scalp while she works her tongue on your sensitive buds, closing her own eyes at the pure idea she might be making you feel good.

After a while, you pull her off your tits, pushing her down onto the sheets as she looks at you confused. Poor baby doesn’t understand sex is transactional because she’s too busy giving you her all. You smile softly, leaning over her, legs on each side of her torso as you give her a kiss on the lips, the brief ‘smooch’ sound music to her ears as she opens her heavy lidded eyes back again; they’re filled with neediness, a surge of wanting to be touched more.

By the time you’ve readied her for the real thing, littering her body in soft bruising marks, her voice slightly higher pitched with each ‘uhn!’ she lets out, brows scrunched together and lips slightly ajar, coated in a sheen of saliva from how you kiss her with reassurance you’ll take care of her— she’s telling you with pants, no, begging— “P-please, baby? ‘Can’t take it anymore..”

She means her bottoms, fabric cruely soaked and covered in her own arousal from all the attention you’ve been giving her; Ellie feels lightheaded, tears brimming her crinkled eyes when you thumb her through her boxers. However, words cannot explain the feeling that rushes through her when you lean down and lick a fat strip through the cloth, eyes locked on hers. She hiccups a gasp, shuddering as the cold air hits her mound when you pull the elastic band from the side.

“I wanted to eat it through it, but I think you’re a bit impatient for that, so i’ll cut to what you want.” You whisper, warm breath fanning over her sensitive pussy. By the time you dig in, she’s whining at volumes you literally need to reach up her torso and cover her mouth.

“Uhn! Uhn—! F-fuck—?”

What sorcery did you have on her? Genuinely? She can’t believe she’s been withholding herself from such pleasure, your tongue trudging through her gummy folds making her want to die and come back again. She can barely even think straight, letting out muffled wails against your hand, saliva seeping through and rolling down your wrist in dribbles. You’d be disgusted, but the sight alone boosts your ego, you had her whipped.

Was it mentioned she’s already orgasmed before you even went near her cunt? That’s right, she already came once while you two were kissing. You definitely knew she’d atleast finish early, but damn were you surprised when she shook against you, humming against your lips rhythmatically.

“Am I making you feel good, baby? Can you talk f’me?”

She could barely hear you, and here you were, asking damn questions. Nonetheless, she gives you a small huff in response; alluding that she was somewhat conscious.

Once you deliver her to cum, she’s shivering against the sheets, balling her fists up as you rip both a cry, and orgasm out of her. “A-Ahnnnn..?!.”

Rest of the night, you two went at it like animals; Ellie insisting you teach her everything there was to know about sex in a singular sitting— ..fucking? To say you both tired eachother out would be an underemphasis.

You ruined her.

When you both seemingly knock out, well, atleast you, she slowly sits up, biting her bottom lip in anticipation as she gazes around your naked body, you were gonna sleep over..

She seems more excited at the prospect you’ll stay the night than the fact you two have been literally keeping the entire female dormitory quarters up— likely going to be hit with a personal visit by the RA.

Who cares, not Ellie for sure. She’ll happily flaunt the fact she’s (finally) got some, just to show off.

God, was she a geek.

[2hightocare]

ACQUAINTANCES!

Synopsis: Jungkook and you can only stand each other whenever you guys are fucking, well that’s what you guys thought initially.

Parings: fuckboy!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

Genre: college au! fwb! e2l!

Warnings: smut!! Open ending, no confession. Rough sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it) Smut with just a tiny bit of plot if you squint, reader is a squirter (sorry not sorry) daddy/mommy kink, cussing, blowjob, reader crying from pleasure, jk is a dirty talker, banter, a lot of bickering from both of them, cute fluff at the end for Valentine’s Day!

a/n: hai my loves, i disappeared for a while.. I’ve been really busy with school at the moment. But I wrote this short pwp for all of you as a valentines gift before I lag again.. I’m trying to write an actual f1 driver!jk fic right now so sorry if I’m not updating as much…. But anywho enjoy my little gift<3⭐️

“That’s my good girl, fuck." He plunges deeper into you, hitting your spot repeatedly. His hand lays on your head, pushing you down into the mattress, your makeup smudged from sucking his cock, and tears stream down your face.

“Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook pounds into you from behind; your legs are shaking, trying so hard not to give out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock spreads your walls deliciously. “Agh fuck.” You moan loudly, your mouth hanging open, drool spilling out onto the white sheets.

You reach behind you, pushing him off you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he watches your legs shake. Your breaths are heavy, and you are trying so hard to catch your breath. “Take it off.” You whine about the condom; you reach for Jungkook's cock and pull on the clear condom, taking it off.

“Want me to fuck you, raw princess?” Jungkook groans, grabbing the base of his cock, giving your pussy a few slaps with his length, making you clench over nothing. Jungkook uses one of his arms to pick you up and turn you around, your back pressed against the comfortable mattress. “Feels good, huh?” He asks as he slowly rubs your swollen, aching clit with his thumb. Jungkook watches your expression, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes cloudy, trying so hard to keep them open, his hand reaching to your tear-stained cheeks, squeezing them, making your mouth form a kiss.

“What do you say?” Jungkook asks as you slowly nod your head. You were fucked dumb, and he knew that, which made him chuckle softly. He could tell from how you couldn’t even answer the question or even fight him for it like you usually do.

“Speak up; use your words, baby.” Jungkook smirks, giving your cheeks a light slap before squeezing them again. “Feels so good.” You slur, and you squeeze your legs together to relieve some of the tension your center is feeling. You have come four times now, and Jungkook none.

“Good girl.” Jungkook says before helping you sit up as he leans against the header, his hard laying on his stomach. Jungkook is packed, to say the least; even when he’s soft, you can see his imprint in his underwear.

It scared you at first when he pulled it out because, how the fuck was that going to fit in you? You swear you almost got up and left. 

“That’s not going to fit.” You say, your pointer finger pointing at his thick length in his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jungkook chuckles, and you give him a glare back instead, showing that you are serious. “It’s going to fit; we’ll make it fit, baby.” He grins. "Plus, you can take four fingers; you’ll be fine.” He comes closer to you and says, "It’ll feel so good, I promise.” He whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your back.

You crawl your way to him, stopping between his legs; his eyes bore into yours. “You’re so pretty.” He compliments you, swiping his thumb on your bottom lip. “Fuck off, you just want your dick sucked.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the base of his cock. Your small hand, not even being able to wrap around his cock, always sent Jungkook a sense of pride to his chest.

“Gon’ suck daddy’s cock?” Jungkook moves your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “If you call yourself daddy one more time, I will bite your dick; don’t try me.” You glare up at him. "Well, isn’t she back? Not even five minutes ago, you were calling me daddy.” Jungkook chuckles at your expression. You looked hot with his cock inches away from your face, slightly twitching, waiting to be sucked.

You and Jungkook had history; to say the least, you both kind of hated each other. If it wasn’t because he said something you didn’t like, it was because he breathed a little too loudly around you. 

Just something about his smug face looking at you and throwing snarky comments had you wanting to claw your acrylics into his skin. Which was something Jungkook loved; he loved watching you roll your eyes every time you saw him, and he absolutely loved it when you fought back with him.

You had no clue how you ended up throwing insults at him every five seconds whenever he would show up anywhere; you would say it was because he was a man whore. You heard from every girl on campus how good he fucked but left right after coming, or if they were lucky, he left before they woke up. But honestly, that really doesn’t matter now that you’re in his bed getting your guts rearranged almost every seven days of the week by him.

Jungkook doesn't hate you; he just loves challenging you. Plus, he thought the only way he could find himself talking and being closer to you meant arguing; he would take it. You are well known on campus as well; his friends warned him about you, but you were just his type. So who was he to throw out the possibility of having you in his bed?

You didn’t even know how you ended up becoming friends with benefits—something along the lines of a frat party, an angry make-out session, and sex in someone’s bed. Jungkook fucked you so good; you are hundred percent sure you passed out and saw stars.

What were strictly professional meetings? how you like to call them? Turned into sleepovers, hanging out, cuddling, and calling each other cute nicknames. You guys still fought; it was more like bickering now. What you both weren’t looking for was a catching feeling; it started as having sex whenever one of you was horny, but now you find yourself wanting to be with each other regardless if you guys’ had sex or not.

“Now I don’t want to suck your dick after you called yourself daddy; that’s such an ick.” You scrunch your nose, giving his cock a tug, making him bite his lip with a laugh.

“That’s an ick? Ick when you told me to call you mommy like a month ago.” Jungkook recalls making your eyes widen. “Stop, I was drunk.” You whine, rolling your eyes. “We both said we wouldn’t bring it up, plus I said it as in sugar mommy.” You try to explain yourself as Jungkook smiles down at you. 

“Sugar mommy? I pay for everything, so just shut  up." Jungkook chuckles, grabbing ahold of his cock, giving it a pump.

You only follow his movements with your eyes as your pussy oozes with your juices, your wetness dripping down your thighs. Jungkook presses his cock to your cheek before slapping it multiple times. “My favorite view—imagine this, but on my lock screen." Jungkook jokes, which makes you glare at him. “In your dreams.” You say.

“It’s definitely in my dreams,” he groans. Jungkook moves his dick to your lips before patting his length on them. “Open.” He orders, which you immediately do, taking his tip into your mouth.

"Agh,” he chokes in a moan as you suck on the swollen tip. You replace his hands with yours pumping in his shaft while you try to take as much as you can down your throat. “Fuck.” Jungkook throws his head back, and you bob your head up and down his cock.

“So big.” You breathe out before returning to bob your head at a fast pace. Drool accumulates in your cheeks, dripping down Jungkook's cock. “Don’t boost my ego more, baby.” Jungkook howls; his tattooed hand gets a hold of your head before pushing it down. You gag on his cock, but Jungkook doesn’t care as he continues to fuck into your mouth. “Aw shit, shit shit.” Jungkook moans with each thrust into your warm mouth.

Tears run down your cheeks as Jungkook uses your mouth. Your hands rest on his hip bones, tapping slightly whenever you need to breathe. “Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook mumbles, his cock twitching in your mouth, meaning he’s close. Before he could come, he pulled your head off of him with a loud pop. Strings of saliva and pre-cum connect your mouth and his cock.

“Fuck!” Jungkook pumps his cock hurriedly, his eyes shut as strings of curse words leave his mouth. “Where do I come? Shit.” Jungkook moans, his abs flexing as his hips lift up with each thrust into his hand. “Tits.” You wipe your mouth, positioning yourself in front of him before he shoots strings of his sticky cum on your round boobs. “Ahh fuck.” Jungkook chokes on another moan, giving his cock one last pump.

His chest heaves as he tries so hard to catch his breath, peeking an eye open and seeing you on your knees with your tits adorned with his cum. You giggle at his state. “I think you just boosted my ego by putting ‘expert at giving head' in my resume.” You joke as his chest rumbles with laughter.

“The head game is strong. Who taught you that?” Jungkook asks, and an inch of jealousy pikes his chest as he thinks about you ever giving a blowjob to someone else that wasn’t him. “Myself, you can do so much with a dildo.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, running your hands down his chest. His cock twitches as he watches you lay back down on the bed, your legs spread open as an invitation.

“Have I told you how good of an idea it was to get this mattress? Yeah, this one is a lot nicer,” Jungkook says as he starts to hover over your much smaller frame. “Whenever we fuck, it doesn’t leave me with back pain,” he moans when he easily slides his cock in you from how wet you are, a sharp moan that leaves your throat.

“It's al- also comfy.” You moan between deep breaths as his cock hits your g-spot. “Yeah, yeah, whatever it’s comfortable to sleep on,” he chuckles as his eyes flutter shut when you clench around him, sending him deeper into you.

“Shit! tightest pussy ever.” His grip tightens on your thighs, which are pushed up by him. “Do you see how pretty your pussy looks being filled with my cock?” He motions to his length, buried deep inside you. The noticeable bulge on your tummy has him wanting to ram inside you without restraint. 

He watches as you just hum with your eyes closed, “I said look.” Jungkook's hand gets a hold of your hair, pulling you upward, making you see his cock in you.

“I’m going to get a cramp because of you.” You moan as you watch his cock slowly slide out, making the bulge disappear before reappearing again when he slammed back, making your eyes shut with a scream. “You’ll be fine,” he laughs before slamming into you. The grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as your eyes vision is just his cock sliding in and out of your pussy over and over again.

“Open your eyes; come on, baby.” He gives your hair a little tug, making your eyes shoot open with your mouth wide open. “Fuck! Prettiest view, huh?” Jungkook's hips slam into you repeatedly.

“Ah, cramp,” you moan as he lets go of your hair, making you drop onto the mattress with a shake. His movements didn’t halt as he continued to fuck into you. 

Jungkook holds onto your legs before powering into you. Your hands grip onto the sheets as the moans flow out of your mouth uncontrollably. Jungkook spreads your legs open before pressing his palm on your lower belly on his bulge, sending a sense of shock through your body. Jungkook feels your pussy tighten, which only meant one thing, “I’m going to squirt, oh fuck.” You rush out, trying so hard to push him off.

Jungkook found out you were squirted when he fucked you in the bathroom at a Christmas party. Your red skirt lifted up to your ass, and your Santa Claus hat held on for dear life with each thrust he slammed into you. You didn’t expect to leave the bathroom with a drenched shirt; you only laughed at his reaction.

Jungkook pulls out immediately, inserting three of his fingers in you before pounding them in and out of you. Your body spasms with each curl of his fingers inside you, sending spurts of liquid out of you with a scream. Your eye vision went blurry, and as your head went lightheaded from the immense pleasure you were feeling, your hands gripped so tightly on the sheets that they went white.

“Are you breathing?” Jungkook chuckles at your spent body on his bed. He gives your pussy a small slap before kissing your cheek. "Mhm,” you pout, closing your legs, which has him laughing before he stands up and makes his way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” You peek an eye open, watching him put on his boxers, his dick still hard from your guys previous activities. “I'm getting you a towel and clothes, princess.” Jungkook enters his bathroom, picking up a clean towel before making his way beside you.

“Let me clean you; spread." Jungkook taps on your thigh. You cover your face as he cleans you up. Small moans leave your mouth from the oversensitivity. You felt comfortable letting Jungkook do these things for you; even though they were super intimate, it didn’t feel wrong when Jungkook did it.

“All clean, let me help you put this on.” He motions to your pink panties you left a week ago in his house. Just thinking of Jungkook washing your underwear made your chest ache. "Up,” he says to your arms as he puts his black shirt over you.

“You didn’t come,” you say, looking at his erection. "It doesn’t matter; it’ll go away. Are you craving anything so I can DoorDash?” Jungkook skips over your question. “Wings..?” You pout as Jungkook picks you up and places you on the chair in his room as he changes the wet sheets for a new set.

“Order some; my phone is over there.” He points to his phone on the nightstand. Your heart skipped a beat. Not ever did one of your exes ever let you touch their phones, so for Jungkook to tell you to get his phone like nothing made your heart speed up, even if you both didn’t establish the boyfriend and girlfriend label.

Let’s just say you ended your night with wings in bed and a cute man cuddling with you all night until the morning.

[reidalert]

IT’S OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY | spencer.reid

| spencer reid & fem!reader 3.1k words

| content: a case has you feeling helpless and guilty, and no matter who consoles you, nothing helps. maybe all you need is to take a break, but what if the break is being risky with dr. reid?

| warnings: mentions of death/kidnapping, flashback to the case, reader feeling vulnerable

| author’s note: i haven’t written in a longgg time and boy does it feel good to finally get these words out of my head. it feels like a privilege to get my writing spark back & i can’t wait to share all my ideas with you. i hope you enjoy reading <3

| masterlist

feedback and comments are highly appreciated!

You have thick skin.

Well, that’s what you say to anyone who asks if you’re okay.

But after today? After this case? You’re not sure if that’s true anymore. You don’t get affected easily, not when it comes to blood and gore. You’ve homed in on keeping your reactions and feelings at bay when it comes to that… but what happened out there? It’s made you feel helpless.

You knew from the minute JJ briefed you back at the BAU that this case was something you hadn’t dealt with before. Even Agent Hotchner had asked if you wanted to sit this one out.

But you said no. You wanted to get more experience to become a better profiler and a better agent. And it came at a cost.

You feel like an outsider. Like you’re watching yourself from an outside perspective as you go through airport security. The endless whir of machines and planes landing and taking off in the background do nothing for the thoughts racing in your mind.

You’re the last to be cleared and you know the others are watching you. Their eyes burning through your skin and doing what they do best. Profiling.

You don’t meet their gaze. You know as soon as you make eye contact with one of them, they’ll be asking you questions and it’ll make you torture yourself about whether you’re fit for this job. So, you make your way through the long and endless corridors until you’re at the gate for the jet.

The dull whirring of the jet engines helps you zone out. The leather seats are a cool comfort to your heated self.

Logically, it would make sense to let them know you’re not doing okay and that you need some time to yourself. But who are you kidding? You’re a thick skinned woman who can do anything… so you’ve made them believe.

You’re sitting on the farthest seat in the jet, right in the corner away from everyone else. You can’t deal with the questions you know they’re going to ask you.

But apparently, that doesn’t stop Agent Hotchner from taking the seat opposite you.

“I know what you’re gonna say.” You break the silence but continue staring out the oval window. The city lights below turn smaller and smaller as you progress through the flight.

“And what’s that?” Agent Hotchner asks. You’re not happy he’s here, invading your little self-pity bubble, but you do appreciate the way he keeps his voice quiet.

You shrug. “That something has upset me. Or that I’m too in my head about this case. Along those lines, anyway.”

Agent Hotchner regards you for a moment. You can feel his eyes staring at the side of your face as you purposefully stay looking out the window.

Because you know the second you make eye contact with him, he’ll see what’s going through your head. And he can’t.

“I gathered something was wrong.” His voice is low, a nice baritone that doesn't annoy you. “I know when someone in my team is different. And you’re different.”

You fight back the scoff that’s threatening to spill. “And what is that supposed to mean, Agent Hotchner?”

“Just…” he sighs. You’re very similar to Spencer Reid; in a way that you both struggle to admit when you need help. “If something is bothering you, I am here to listen.”

“Who says something is bothering me?” You kind of regret asking that question as you know damn well he’s about to go into an explanation of how he can see you’re upset.

He sits up a little straighter, hands clasped over his crossed knees. “You’re avoiding eye contact with me, your knuckles have turned white from how hard you’re gripping the arm rests—”

“That’s nothing—”

“You’re interrupting me. You don’t like being analysed as it makes you vulnerable. You haven’t eaten anything in the past,” Agent Hotchner checks his watch. “Six hours. Your stomach is warring against your emotions and you don’t like that. You’re sitting in a corner trying to push yourself away from other people.”

“Okay.” You bite out, now finally giving in to looking him dead in the eyes. “You’re a great profiler. No need to showboat.”

“I’m not showboating.”

You roll your eyes, “Sure seems like it.”

A minute or two pass in silence. Agent Hotchner is still staring at you and you feel incredibly small under his gaze. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything.” He fixes his shirt cuffs, acting so nonchalant as if he didn’t just profile one of his team members.

You grit your teeth. “Fine. Today messed with my head. That case was… it was wrong. So wrong that I can’t stop thinking about how I could have helped that family.”

Agent Hotchner leans forward, gently placing his hand upon your own on the arm rest. You feel your grip loosen and you fight back a grimace at how cold his hand feels against your warm one. “It’s not your fault. We all know we could have done something different out there, but sometimes the unsub takes a surprise route. Things like this happen and it’s unfortunate, but don’t blame yourself.”

You shrug again, avoiding eye contact once again. “Yeah.”

He stands, pulling his suit jacket to fit more comfortably. “If you need to talk to someone, come to my office.”

You only offer a silent nod in answer.

“Oh, and Agent L/N? Stop calling me Agent Hotchner, Hotch is just fine.” He offers a small smile and you shake your head, going back to staring out the window until your eyes feel too heavy to keep open.

“Why is there so much paperwork?” Your voice comes out all agitated as you rifle through a stupid amount of folders and loose paper.

Emily peeks over the cubicle dividing and raises an eyebrow. “You okay there?”

You sigh, slumping down onto your desk chair, spinning until you’re facing her side of the cubicle. “Do I sound okay to you? Who in their right mind decided to give me the goddamn paperwork for that goddamned case?” You glance around the wide room, trying to find JJ; this has to be her doing.

Emily purses her lips, “Doing paperwork isn’t that bad, Y/N. I mean, I guess there’s a lot but it’ll make the day go by quicker.”

“Oh, please.” You scoff, feeling yourself grow more annoyed by the minute. You know you need to get yourself in check, but the past 24 hours have ridden you like the Grim Reaper is taking jockey lessons in Hell.

“What’s got Little Miss Thick Skin so angry today?” Derek Morgan walks up to your desk, a hot mug of coffee in his hand. A brief thought had you biting your lip— it’d be wrong to spill it on him.

“Don’t start, please.” You rest your elbows on your desk, hands holding either side of your face as you stare at the paperwork. The names of the family you couldn’t save stare right back at you. Your stomach drops and you’re not sure how long you can stay in this office.

“Hey,” Derek places his mug on your desk before crouching down to your eye level. “What’s wrong, girl? If you don’t want to do the paperwork, I can take it off your hands. No big deal.”

You shake your head, “Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

Derek watches your face and you turn your head to look at him. “If you start profiling me, Morgan, I swear to God that coffee mug will end up in a place you really don’t want it.”

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, girl. Just tryna help ya out.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need help. I’m fine.” You scoot your desk chair closer and grab the closest pen, tapping it against the top of your desk to distract you from the fact you have to relive this case just a day later.

You don’t catch it, but Derek and Emily share a knowing look. They’ve seen this before. It’s not hard to notice someone you spend days on end with is struggling.

Derek grabs his mug and pats you on the shoulder. Emily sinks back into her cubicle and makes sure to keep an eye on during the day. If she finds you with smoke coming out of your ears, she’ll go get the fire extinguisher.

Your hand cramps as you write your final notes. The computer screen has turned too bright for your eyes and a headache begins to form behind your eyes. It’s been a long day.

Clicking the pen closed, you lean back against your chair with a deep sigh. You close your eyes just to rest them for a brief moment and scenes from yesterday plague you.

It’s like you can’t escape.

Your heart rate picks up speed. You’re not sure how it turned into a game of cat and mouse, but you’re adamant on putting a stop to it.

“What does he think he’s doing?” You’re standing with your palms pressed against a conference table in a police station in Washington. The projector casts a live shot of the news— a helicopter is chasing after the unsub in a car. The family you’re trying to protect is with him.

“He’s trying to flee.” Agent Rossi says, so matter of factly that it has you turning your attention to him instead.

You squint at him. “You saw this coming, didn’t you?”

He gestures to the screen. “You didn’t?”

“No, I did not.” You grit your teeth, moving so you’re now standing up straight. “I predicted he’d do something out of the blue. We all did. But we didn’t know he was going to kidnap them. That wasn’t part of his game.”

Rossi shrugs, “I’ve been in this job longer than you have, kiddo. It takes experience to know something like this. Don’t blame yourself.”

“What?” You let out a disbelieving scoff. “Listen here old man—”

“That’s enough.” Agent Hotchner cuts through your words, ending your little spat with Rossi. “We’re all here to do a job. So let’s do it.”

Faint footsteps sound behind you. You’re not sure who’s still in the office, but considering how late it is, there’s only a few people that come to mind.

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?” That all too recognisable voice makes your heart swoop. Spencer appears in your line of vision, his man-bag crossed over his torso. He looks ready to leave. “It’s nearly 7PM.”

“Oh.” You glance at the clock mounted on the wall. You didn’t realise that you were doing the paperwork for the Washington case for nearly 10 hours. “Guess I lost track of time.”

Spencer regards you for a minute. “Everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You offer a weak smile, not trying to be bitchy to him like you were to the others earlier. You make a mental note to apologise to them tomorrow.

“It’s just— nevermind.” He shakes his head.

Your brows furrow, “No, what is it?”

“Ever since we got on that plane yesterday, you’ve been hostile.” Spencer rocks back and forth on his heels. “I know you don’t like to be profiled, I don’t either, but I know something is wrong.”

You twist in your chair, facing your computer screen with your hands hovering over the keyboard. You don’t want to talk about it, you just want to figure it out on your own.

“Y/N?” Spencer says your name and you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes all sparkly, his cheeks smooth, his lips… perfect.

You blink slowly. Your head isn’t in the right place, but your heart (and hormones) are.

You internally say fuck it and reach for the strap of his man-bag to pull him down to your level. Your breaths mingle and your eyes dart in a triangle from one eye to his lips to his other eye. And lo and behold, the triangle method actually works because Spencer leans in and you feel his lips ghost over your own.

And nothing.

He just stays in that position. Hunched down in your grip, lips mere millimetres away from your own and he doesn’t finish the job.

You breathe in a deep sigh, your senses being filled with his scent. “Why aren’t you kissing me?”

“I— I think it’s because I know you’re not yourself. It feels wrong.” Spencer's breath is minty as it fans over your cheeks and neck. You want to say something snarky, but you know he’s right. “I do want to kiss you, though. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.”

You lean back a little, your eyes staring into his pretty brown ones. You don’t see a sign of a lie and your heart skips a beat. “Would it help if I admitted what’s going on? Would you kiss me then?” God, are you really that desperate to get kissed by Spencer Reid? Yes. Yes you are.

Spencer lowers into a crouch, one hand grips the armrest of your desk chair, whilst the other splays across your knee with a gentle squeeze. “If it helps you, then it’ll help me. Talk to me. Let me inside your pretty head.”

You reach out for his tie, fiddling with it to help your nerves. “You know I don’t like talking about how I feel, but this is something I can’t keep to myself anymore.”

Spencer nods, his hand on your knee giving you another squeeze. But this time in a reassuring way. That’s your go ahead sign to lay it all down.

“That case we did. The family where we couldn’t save them, where I couldn’t save them, keeps replaying in my head and I don’t know what to do to stop it.” You take a breath, your fingers still playing with his tie. “If we got there sooner, I know we could have stopped him from hurting them. From killing them. I feel like if I did or said something right or helpful, I could’ve saved them. I hate feeling like this because I know it isn’t my fault, but I just can’t help but feel guilty.”

Spencer stays quiet, letting your words sink in. “You’re right, it isn’t your fault.”

You sigh, dropping his tie and moving your attention to his face. To his lips.

“I wish I could go back in time and help.” You admit, feeling a small weight lift from your shoulders.

“I wish for that, too.” Spencer admits as well. Both of you find comfort in knowing you feel the same. It makes feeling like this just the little bit easier to deal with. “Thank you for sharing how you feel.”

You let out a small laugh. “Thank you for not dismissing me.”

“I could never dismiss you.” Spencer’s voice is soft and warm. His fingers slowly trail up and down your calf, sending a shiver through your body. “Would you like that kiss now?” The smirk on his lips has your stomach flipping and you want nothing more than for his lips to be on yours.

“I would very much like that kiss now.” You smile at him, leaning in and already feeling your body succumb to him. When your lips meet, you sigh. You’ve missed being able to be physical with him; it’s hard trying to stay colleagues when all you want is to be wrapped up in his arms.

Spencer lets his hands travel— up your thighs, round your back, cheekily up the hem of your dress. You moan lightly into his mouth and he swallows it.

Your hands grab for his collar to deepen the kiss. “More.” You mumble against his lips and he complies. Spencer bites your bottom lip to elicit a gasp from you so he can dive his tongue down your throat with ease.

You feel yourself involuntarily squeezing your thighs to quell the ache forming between your legs. God, you’d do anything to take him home with you right now.

Before you get a chance to start undoing his tie, a loud and clear cough comes from your right.

You stop moving but Spencer keeps going. Trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, you now get a perfect view of Hotch standing outside his office with his arms crossed. You can’t make out what his face is portraying.

“Spence.” You tug on his collar, but he thinks you want him to go further. You feel his tongue lick a stripe up the column of your neck and you have to fight back a whimper.

You’d die on the spot if you let Aaron Hotchner hear you moaning.

“No. Spencer.” This time you push at his shoulders and the look he gives you makes you feel bad. But if you let him carry on, both of you would never be able to be in Hotch’s presence. Ever.

“Are you okay?” Spencer brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”

You shake your head, your fingers quickly straightening out Spencer's tie. “I loved it. You were good, but, um…” your eyes drift off to where Hotch is still standing.

It’s as if Spencer was zapped by lightning. He shoots back away from you, and somehow manages to hit every piece of furniture around him. You want to laugh but this situation doesn’t call for laughing. You’ve been caught by your boss making out in the middle of the BAU.

“Reid, L/N. Care to explain?” Hotch moves slowly down the stairs, his aura too strong for you to look him in the eyes right now.

You twiddle your thumbs. “He was just helping me finish this file report from the case yesterday.”

Hotch looks at Spencer, knowing that he’ll blab the truth. “She was upset about not being able to save them and I wanted to help ease her pain and—”

“That’s enough.” Hotch raises a hand. “Since it’s past working hours, I’ll make a one time allowance for this behaviour.”

You have a big sigh of relief and Spencer lets out an audible groan of embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right. It won’t.” Hotch checks his watch and frowns. “I’m late for something. Finish that report and I’ll see you both tomorrow. Behaving correctly.”

You nod your head and Spencer keeps his head down staring at the floor. You watch Hotch leave the office and you finally let out your cringing grimace. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know he was here. I thought he left already.”

“I can’t be mad. I got to kiss the prettiest girl in here.”

“Shut up.”

Copyright credit to @reidalert as of 2024-present.

[sanakiras]

BOUND BY BLOOD

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

❝ WHO WILL YOU BE WHEN NO ONE CAN STOP YOU? ❞

WORD COUNT — 23k

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — depictions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, explicit sexual content, red hair!jeonghan, author hates her fucking writing and is a raging perfectionist, do with this information what you will!

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a silly idea i wanted to make into a story, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

PROLOGUE

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

I. STRANGERS

[ SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER ]

your mother has always had a habit of moving from relationship to relationship. the passing of your father, which happened when you were too young to remember, left her trying to find something in the men around her you highly doubted she ever would.

but that changed a few weeks ago. because apparently, she’s finally found herself a man she wants to stay with. or so she told you. you’ll have to take her word for it.

the one wish of yours she’s always respected was to keep her boyfriends away from you — the last thing you wanted was some guy trying to be a father figure, and since her frequent relationships were often short-lived, there wasn’t really a point to getting to know them. seeing as you departed from home for your freshman year of college nearly two years ago, it’s no surprise that you were barely able to keep up with your mom’s romantic life.

when you arrived home for the summer break, she told you she finally found someone she was madly in love with, happily showing off the shiny diamond sitting on her finger. her fiancé is apparently some rich man living a few hours away, in a huge house at the outskirts of the city.

she initially didn’t expect or plan for you to come live there with her, nor for you to transfer to a different university, though she figured it must’ve been because of what happened last year.

nevertheless, she was happy to have you with her.

and now, two days before starting your third year at a different school, you’re seated in the backseat of the rolls-royce with your mother, and all you can do is stare out the window while the car pulls through the tall gates.

the place is even bigger than you were expecting — a manor straight out of the movies. the last sunbeams of august shine on your face through the glass window as you gaze to the outside.

well, you suppose living here for a little while before you find your own place isn’t the worst thing in the world.

you’ve only met your mother’s future husband once prior to the engagement. you remember he introduced himself as the owner of a successful international hotel franchise. he’s not too bad, clearly doing his best to not act like a father to you whilst simultaneously trying to show you that you’re more than welcome.

once you’ve arrived and said your greetings, your mother looks around for a moment. “where’s your son? is he inside?” she asks, but her fiancé sighs in disappointment.

“no, his flight was delayed, unfortunately, so he’s staying there for the night. he’ll be home tomorrow.”

right, you almost forgot. the fiancé has a son who’s a couple months younger than you, and since university is only twenty minutes away from the house, he still lives here as well.

yeah, you’re not looking too forward to meeting the guy. your mom hasn’t met him yet either, nor do you have any idea what he looks like, but from what she’s told you, he’s around your age, wicked smart, and friendly.

as you go inside the house, you quickly realize that your mother managed to land herself a man with a massive bank account. expensive chandeliers, marble tiled floors with big carpets that don’t have a speck of dirt on them, staff that’s taking your belongings upstairs — you’re impressed.

a member of said staff shows you to your room, which could honestly be considered an apartment, given its size. aside from the spacious bed that could easily fit three people, the room is decorated with dim lighting, big glass windows with a view of the courtyard, a fireplace, and your own private walk-in closet and bathroom.

well, shit. maybe you should just ask your mom if her future husband would pay your tuition as well.

despite getting to sleep in the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen, your first night in the manor is restless, and you arrive at university with tired eyes, hoping the caffeine will kick in soon.

traffic was so shitty that you’re now running late as well, so you rush to the elevators to get to your class in time.

you have a lecture scheduled on the seventh floor, yet you don’t see the number on the display, and you don’t particularly feel like walking up a ridiculous number of stairs.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

you look down at your phone to see if you got the number right, only to be greeted by a guy with dark hair and tiny silver hoop earrings standing beside you, clearly looking you in the eye. “everything okay?”

“i just—i’m new, and i gotta get to the seventh floor, and i don’t understand why this elevator doesn’t go there—”

he quickly interrupts you. “we have two elevator blocks. this one is for even-numbered floors, you need the other one. c’mon, i’ll show you.”

you walk after him, passing two corners before getting to the elevators that take you to the odd-numbered floors. he presses the button, gesturing to the free elevator about to go up.

“thanks for the help. you got a class too?”

“yeah. ninth floor, though,” he replies, smiling at you, “i’m joshua, by the way.”

joshua’s hair is neatly gelled back with one or two strands hanging out at the front. you notice his slightly red lips, strong jawline, and gentle smile.

the door of the elevator opens again, and you realize you’ve already made it to your stop.

“sorry, i gotta go. it was nice meeting you.” you tell him before getting out, failing to introduce yourself.

you faintly hear him say bye as you head into the lecture hall, a big sigh escaping you once you’re finally seated.

your first day consists of a lecture of two hours followed by a regular class of three hours. the experience of a long first day in a constantly crowded space has made you both anxious and tired, so you go outside, stumbling upon a secluded spot between the buildings you’ve had class in today.

it’s the quietest place you’ve come across so far. it allows you to take a breather, a moment to yourself in the hot mess that’s been the past couple weeks, if not months.

although you don’t smoke often, you do have a pack of cigarettes sitting in your bag — and you find yourself reaching for it. unfortunately, your lighter doesn’t really seem to be working today, and you can’t help but groan in annoyance. “fucking hell—”

“you know that’s against the rules, right?”

when you look to the side, you spot some guy standing across from you, his hands sitting in his pockets as if he’s got all the time in the world to have this conversation with you.

a snarky reply works its way out of your throat. “what, you planning to rat me out?”

he pretends to think about it for a moment. “wouldn’t be a lot of fun if i did that, right?”

all you do is shrug your shoulders as you attempt to light your cigarette again, but he suddenly stretches his arm out, holding up his own lighter to let him do it for you.

the gesture makes you stare at him from under your brows for a few seconds, but he doesn’t move a muscle, waiting for you to accept.

so you slightly lean forward, allowing him to light it, and he looks at you with a certain level of intrigue.

he’s got something interesting about him, aside from the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome. his hair is dyed in the shade of a dark red — burgundy, in this bright sunlight — where you guess his natural hair color must be a dark brown, given the color of his eyebrows.

while he’s not the tallest guy you’ve seen here so far, he still sticks out above you, his long legs and lean physique doing enough to make him appear quite tall. he wears a lazy smirk like it’s his default expression, and you’ll give it to him — if he was trying to get your attention, it worked.

he leans against the wall, watching you exhale the smoke. “i don’t think i’ve seen you around. are you a first-year?”

“there’s thousands of people attending here. of course you haven’t seen me before.”

“how straightforward of you.”

“do you prefer small talk?”

the corner of his lips curl up. “i don’t. my question still stands, though.”

“i’m in my third year. just transferred.”

“well, i guess you fit right in. this is the place where i always come to get away from everyone else.”

“is this your way of telling me i gotta go elsewhere next time?”

“took the words right out of my mouth.” the chuckle he lets out sounds low and relaxed. “no, you can come here and join me whenever you want. only if you’re good company, of course.”

you finally take the bait of engaging in the conversation with him and roll your eyes. “sorry to disappoint.”

“i doubt you’d disappoint me.”

“oh, please. you don’t even know me.”

“i do now.” jesus christ — does he always talk like that? like he knows more than you do? “but, if you want me to get to know you, you should tell me your name.”

his gaze becomes surprisingly intense in the blink of an eye, and something suddenly weighs down your body like feet glued to the floor. “i’d love to stay and chat, but i have a class to get to. i’m sure i’ll see you around, though.”

he hums in a bit of a smug way, as if he can look directly into your thoughts and see what you’re thinking. you feel his eyes burning in your back as you walk away from him, into the building, and you force yourself to regain your composure.

several hours later, just in time for dinner, you get back to the house, utterly drained.

the living room has dark walls with a few shiny brown bookcases that reach the ceiling, a comfortable sofa and several other chairs. if anything, the house is styled with rich, darker colors, creating a moody atmosphere, especially at night with the dim lighting.

your mother calls out to you once she notices you standing there. “honey, come here and introduce yourself, will you?”

she’s standing next to her fiancé, but there’s another person with them, whose back is facing you — and you suddenly spot the color of his hair.

when he turns around to face you, it feels as if the air is knocked out of your lungs.

you can’t be serious.

it’s so ridiculously cliché that part of you wants to laugh. what the fuck are the odds of the guy you met earlier today becoming your stepbrother?

though judging by the way his face falls, he was just as unaware of your identity as you were of his. not for long, of course — that damned grin is back on his face in seconds.

he takes a few steps over to you, extending his hand to formally introduce himself, as if you didn’t meet hours before. “i’m jeonghan.”

you stare at him with a deep frown but play along nonetheless, so you shake his hand, curtly saying your own name in response. he repeats it to himself with a softer voice than before, and you hate that you like the way your name sounds when he says it.

then you look down, realizing he’s still holding your hand, and you almost push him away, trying to act like his presence doesn’t affect you in any way whatsoever.

dinner goes by achingly slowly. your mother is being all social and just so damn eager to get to know her future stepson, asking him questions, clearly taking a liking towards him.

jeonghan tells her all kinds of stories, making sure to infuse his words with all the charm he’s probably got in that frail body of his. as you watch from the sidelines, you can tell he knows exactly what she’d like him to be, and he plays the role wonderfully.

well-mannered, friendly, charming, intelligent. he gives your mother subtle yet sickeningly sweet compliments and she just eats it all up.

every now and then, he glances at you, even shamelessly eyeing your chest up and down.

you hate that you’re still intrigued by him.

he asks you questions as well — small talk, of course. probably just for show. your answers are shorter than necessary, and he quickly notices you don’t feel like talking at all.

once dessert is over, you excuse yourself, saying you still have some work to do for tomorrow, and you exit the room immediately to ensure your mother isn’t able to protest.

the sound of footsteps behind you makes you quicken your pace up the stairs.

as you’re walking down the hall, heading to your room, his familiar voice pops up from behind you. “you should’ve just told me your name.”

of course he’s the one going after you.

you scoff at him. “wouldn’t have changed anything.”

jeonghan has his hands sitting in his pockets when he steps towards you. “you would’ve known who i was.”

“did you know who i was?”

“i didn’t, actually. when my dad told me i’d be getting a sister, i didn’t know what to expect.”

“sister?” the way you say it makes it sound like an insult. perhaps it is in this case. “we’re just strangers. nothing more than that.”

oh, jeonghan already likes you much more than he anticipated. there’s a certain sharpness to every single thing that comes out of your mouth ― you’re surprisingly cold. he wonders if you do it on purpose.

“such hostility.” he remarks, enjoying the fact that he’s standing so close to you.

“maybe i just don’t like you.”

“maybe. but you’re not all that talkative with my dad either, nor do you seem to plan on it.”

“so?”

“so, for someone who voluntarily came with her mom to live with complete strangers, you don’t come across as willing to bond with anyone. unless that’s not what you’re here for, of course.”

“what are you saying?”

“you’re a smart girl. if you already built a life for yourself in another place, why come here? you don’t seem ecstatic to be part of a new family.”

“i wanted the change.”

“did you?”

“yes. what does it matter?”

jeonghan won’t outright tell you he finds it strange you get so hostile when asked about your reasons for coming here. “i’m just curious.”

“has anyone ever told you it’s impolite to poke your nose into other people’s business?”

“if you’re going to hide something, at least come up with a better lie.”

waiting for you to respond, he resists the urge to bite his lip, and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, a palpable tension rising between you.

“look, i’m not hiding anything. i’m happy for my mom that she found someone she loves, but as for everything else that comes with it, you couldn’t pay me to care. so i suggest you go and play with someone who does.”

truth be told, you do sound convincing, but then he catches you eyeing his body, and he makes up his mind just like that.

the only person jeonghan wants to play with right now is you, and he’s not one to give up easily.

his voice is all sultry when he bids you goodnight. “good luck studying, sweetheart. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

as he walks away, you grab the handle of your door, but you still look at him going back down the hall, and you find yourself wondering what his room looks like, what he thinks of you ― and perhaps more importantly, what it is he’s planning.

II. BEWARE OF YOUR BROTHER

“hey. jeonghan. d’you know her?”

joshua points to the other side of the hall, at which his best friend curiously looks in said direction, only to find you standing there, typing away at your phone while looking as bored as ever.

“why?” jeonghan asks, curious as to why joshua would ask for you, since he hasn’t yet mentioned the news of his dad’s fiancée having a daughter.

“i bumped into her last week, on monday. she’s new. i introduced myself to her but didn’t get her name ‘cause she was running late for a lecture.”

well, that’s unexpected.

of course you met both him and his best friend on the same day. fate has such a way of bringing people together, it’s laughable.

jeonghan just gestures for his friend to follow him, and the two of them walk over to you, after which he greets you. “hey, sis.”

you look up at him with pure annoyance. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“i told you i wasn’t planning on it.” he retorts with one corner of his mouth curled upwards ― he reminds you of the cheshire cat.

joshua watches the interaction with a deep frown set into his forehead. “am i missing something here?”

“the woman my dad is marrying has a daughter. daughter being her.”

the younger of the two looks wildly surprised as he processes it. “you’re gonna be his stepsister?”

“so he likes to remind me, yes.” you answer, vaguely recognizing him. “wait, didn’t i meet you last week?”

“you did, yeah. though i didn’t catch your name.”

jeonghan watches as joshua’s tone becomes even sweeter than it already is, his smile only growing bigger once you’ve given him your name.

oh.

oh, no.

the discovery that joshua thinks you’re cute flips a switch in him. you are cute, don’t get him wrong, but he doesn’t like that his friend is looking at you that way.

“well, i gotta go to class. it was nice seeing you again, though, joshua.” you smile, proceeding to shoot your future stepbrother a glare, and he’ll take any attention you give him.

as soon as you’re out of earshot, joshua hits his shoulder. “why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner? is she living with you?”

“well, i had other priorities. and yes, she is.”

“i can’t believe she’s gonna be your sister. what’s she like? she doesn’t seem to wanna be around you all that much.”

“she’s distant. keeps to herself a lot.”

“so she’s awfully similar to you, then.”

similar to him? he doubts you are.

jeonghan averts his gaze to the courtyard, absentmindedly replying, “i suppose she is.”

a few days later, your mother’s scheduled an appointment for both you and jeonghan at a clothing store in the city to get your measurements taken for the wedding.

which is why jeonghan finds himself standing outside the classroom you’re currently having a lecture in. his class ended about fifteen minutes earlier than anticipated, so he figured he could just wait for you here, since you’d agreed to go to the store together and meet your mom there.

once your class is finished, the door opens, and a huge number of students walks out of the hall, passing him by. to his surprise, though, he hasn’t been able to spot you yet.

when it seems the last students have left, he frowns to himself. just for good measure, he peeks inside the lecture hall to check if anyone’s still inside.

the hall is almost completely empty, save for you and some other girl who’s talking to you.

but there’s something off about the conversation you’re having, because it doesn’t seem like you and her are friends ― matter of fact, you look colder than ever, and he feels the harshness of your glare even when it’s not directed at him.

but then you look his way, and he realizes he spoke too soon, because you certainly don’t seem to be softening up the slightest bit.

you abruptly walk down the stairs, moving right out of the lecture hall, blatantly ignoring him as if he’s not even there.

he turns around and follows you with a chuckle. “trouble in paradise?”

“why do you care?”

“well, i like a bit of drama.”

“i’m sure you do.”

“seriously though — you’ve been here for two weeks now and already made enemies? going for a new record?”

“why the hell were you even outside my classroom? we were supposed to meet by the entrance at the ground floor.”

“my class ended early. and you’re dodging the question.”

finally stopping in your tracks, you stare at him. that cockiness in his attitude is really starting to get on your nerves.

so you grab his arm, and he looks pleasantly surprised at the way you grab him, pulling him around the corner, away from the crowded corridor.

but then jeonghan suddenly finds himself backed into a corner ― no one has ever backed him into a corner. “what are you doing?”

your fingers glide across his double-breasted blazer, and you have such a tight hold on the fabric that it almost knocks the air out of his lungs.

the expression painted on your face is unreadable to him. cold, perhaps a bit smug, but not sharp.

“you know, i’m starting to think you have a thing for me. being unnecessarily nosy about my reasons for coming here, now listening in on my conversations… i don’t like being put under a loupe,” you shrug, “i’d prefer it if you stayed away from my private life.”

“your private life? we live in the same house.”

“we do. but the thing is ― i’ve seen what you do. observing from the sidelines, watching everyone and everything. you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

he tilts his head. this is a challenge he’s never had before, and it actually excites him in a way. because who the fuck is this girl who’s onto him and his ways?

“is being observant a bad thing?”

“not with other people, no. with me, it is.”

“you sound self-serving.”

“i am self-serving. i’m also mean, condescending, maybe even a bitch. the only reason i’m tolerating your presence is because i have to.”

jeonghan finds your self-awareness admirable. he doesn’t move from his spot by the wall you’ve pushed him against, but he does lean his face a bit closer to yours. “see, that’s the thing, sis. you don’t have to, just like you didn’t have to move here.”

fuck. he’s got you there, and it causes you to get hostile towards him again. “stay out of my private life, jeonghan.”

“or what? afraid i’ll find something interesting?”

“we may be family now, but that doesn’t mean you can bother me as you please. everyone has secrets ― either you respect mine, or you don’t. i’m not as friendly when people pry into business that clearly isn’t theirs.”

the smug smile you have on your face is borderline provoking. it almost makes him want to pry into your business. something about the way you look at him and touch him just riles him up like nothing else.

he mirrors your expression. “are you threatening me?”

“consider it a piece of advice. it’s all your choice.” you shrug indifferently, and you shoot him a fake smile before backing away from him, heading down the hall by yourself, and jeonghan huffs, leaning his head back against the wall.

well, so much for bonding with you. he’ll admit that perhaps he’s been a bit too persistent in his teasing ― for all he knows, you could’ve been deeply unhappy back home. he should probably hold back on pushing you about your past for now. maybe you’ll even start liking him at some point. even if you haven’t shown much interest in him, he certainly finds you interesting, and he’d like to become closer with you.

and besides, he’s not one to back down from a challenge.

the ride to the store is completely silent. neither of you bother to say a word to each other, and upon your arrival, your mother happily greets you both, pushing you inside the luxurious shop. an employee smiles at you, handing you all a glass of champagne.

it’s a little early in the day, but fuck it. calming your nerves a bit would do you good.

while jeonghan gets his measurements taken, your mother tells you to pick out a few dresses you like, mainly to see what style of dress you’d like to wear to the wedding. once you’ve decided on something, you’ll be getting one custom-made, tailored to your body, all courtesy of jeonghan’s father.

eventually, once they’re done with jeonghan ― since he’s wearing a simple suit to the wedding ― he plops down on one of the soft, velvet chairs, scrolling through his phone, only putting it down when he hears you stepping out of the changing room to show the piece you’ve put on.

by the time you’re changing into your fourth dress, your mother mentions she’ll just quickly head into the bathroom, and once she’s gone, he hears you call out from inside the changing room. “mom! can you zip me up? i think it might be stuck halfway.”

he doesn’t hesitate to walk up to you, pushing the curtain to the side, but it’s only when you notice it’s him doing it that you jump in your spot.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask with furrowed brows, and he motions for you to turn around.

“your mom went to the bathroom, so the only one currently around to fix your zipper is me.”

you scoff. “well, aren’t i lucky.”

jeonghan tells himself not to focus on your deep cleavage, so he looks down to where his hands are.

as he gently tries to get the zipper to move, since a piece of fabric seems stuck in it, he bites his lip. “i thought about what you said, and i… i think we may have started off on the wrong foot. i’ve been pestering you for… no real reason. sorry about that.”

you’re certainly surprised by the change in approach — but you’re not exactly trusting. “does this mean you’ll stop asking about it?”

“yeah, i will. promise.”

“okay. in that case, i should apologize for being a little too hostile. when something upsets me, i get mean. sorry.”

he lets out a low chuckle, finally managing to separate the fabric from the zipper. “don’t worry. i can handle a mean girl.”

his hand pushes your hair over your shoulder to avoid getting it caught before slowly zipping you up, and the sensation of his cold fingers brushing past your warm skin makes you shiver.

“turn around.” he says, and you raise your hands, not expecting him to compliment you, but jeonghan appears to be full of surprises. “this color looks pretty on you.”

with a raised brow, you say, “don’t push it.”

he laughs at your response, “i’m serious. really, you do. aren’t i supposed to be your overly honest brother?”

unfortunately, he is.

so you cross your arms. “what’d you think of the other dresses?”

“that second one was terrible. you still looked gorgeous, though.”

the comment comes so unexpected that it renders you speechless for a moment, which makes him smirk in satisfaction again.

when the curtain suddenly whips open behind him, you both turn to your mother, who appears ecstatic to hear her ever-so-charming future stepson is being so helpful to her daughter already.

which makes jeonghan figure she must’ve missed the way he’s been eyeing your curves in every single dress you’ve shown so far, just as she’s been missing how your cheeks heat up when you catch him staring at you with that glass of champagne still sitting in his hand.

it’s all you’re able to think about during the ride home, and the rest of the evening.

the house is huge, yet it feels empty when jeonghan isn’t home. he left to go meet up with some friends for dinner after you were done at the store, and you find yourself restless over the things he said today.

you have difficulty trusting people, and you probably shouldn’t trust a guy like him, yet a part of you wants to ― badly, for whatever reason.

it’s the middle of the night when you reach for your bathroom cabinet to get some aspirin, and you come to the realization that you forgot to buy a new pack, so your only option is to either suck it up or head down to the kitchen.

in a white tank top and loose-fitted sweatpants, you quietly make your way down the stairs, huffing when you see all the different cabinets you’re still not used to. it takes you a few minutes of searching until you stumble upon the drawer with medicine, and you take the new pack to smuggle it to your own room.

“what’re you doing?”

the voice behind you popping out of nowhere nearly gives you a heart attack. “jesus fucking christ―can you stop?”

“stop what? i just walked in.” jeonghan replies in the same tone, grabbing your lower arms as if to make sure you remain standing. “i thought you’d be asleep, not ransacking a kitchen drawer.”

“i was supposed to be asleep, but i got a headache. obviously.”

he watches you gesture to the strip of aspirin on the counter and lets out a noise of understanding. “want me to make you a cup of tea? it might help you sleep.”

if you weren’t so tired already, you’d let him, but you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. thanks for offering though. you had a fun night?”

“yeah. maybe you should come with next time. i’m sure my friends would like you.” he almost makes the mistake of mentioning joshua asked for you, remembering to keep that to himself.

there’s something you’re dying to ask him, and you decide to just do it, since he’s standing in front of you anyways.

“are you being this nice to me ‘cause you like me or just for the sake of your father’s marriage?”

he doesn’t reply right away, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge first. “my father’s been in serious relationships with other women before. i never cared much for them or their families. does that answer your question?”

“somewhat.”

“you don’t sound convinced.”

“that’s ‘cause you’re not convincing.”

jeonghan’s buttons are easily pushed, at times. you like pushing him.

he smiles to himself, averting his gaze for a moment, only looking back at you once he’s significantly closed the distance between your bodies. “i like you. a lot, actually, even though you’ve mostly just been cussing me out.”

“which you probably deserved.”

“i guess so.” he hums playfully, and you mimic his mannerisms, nearly skipping over the fact that this is the closest you’ve stood to him since meeting each other.

part of you wants him to be even closer.

then his gaze moves down, and you follow it.

even though the top you’re wearing isn’t see-through, its fabric is thin, and you didn’t put on a bra before leaving your room because you didn’t expect you’d be running into anyone, especially not him.

as soon as you realize he’s looking at your breasts, you cover your chest, immediately scolding him. “oh my god, you’re such a pervert.”

of course, he’s hardly impressed, not appearing to care in the slightest that you caught him staring. “cussing me out again? really?”

“i’m heading up to my room. don’t even think about following me.”

“well, shoot. there go my plans for the night.” he remarks, grinning at you. “sleep tight, sis.”

“yeah, whatever. night, hannie.”

hannie. that’s cute. he doesn’t think you’ve ever called him that before.

once you’re gone from his field of view, he bites his lower lip, unable to wipe that damn expression off his face as he thinks of you.

he can’t get enough.

III. WHO IS NOT WITHOUT SIN?

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who quickly grabbed you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

it’s only been a few weeks since he told you he’d stop bothering you with questions about your past and start being nice to you, and so far, he’s kept his promise.

you wouldn’t say you fully trust him yet, but you definitely are growing fond of him. he’s been showing you around the city, taking you out to lunch, studying with you in the library at university, and it’d be a lie to say you haven’t enjoyed every second of it.

physical touch is clearly a habit of his with people he’s close to — joshua, his father on occasion, as well as some of his other friends he’s introduced you to.

for some reason, you’re always hyper-aware when someone touches you, and you have to admit, he does a great job at easing into the physical contact. it started with some simple touches on your shoulders and upper arms, slowly but smoothly continuing, allowing his hands to sit on your waist and lower back.

and he enjoys the dynamic he has going on with you. it’s mostly lots of sarcastic comments, teasing and joking around, but there’s moments where you just quietly appreciate the other’s presence.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with the corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

the mass is over before you know it, and as you’ve just walked out of the church, you spot your mother excitedly chatting away with her fiancé, not paying you any mind.

jeonghan catches up with you and gently puts his hand on your lower back. “are you okay?”

blinking a few times, you nod, trying to sound more cheerful than you are. “yeah. it was just… getting to me, is all. i don’t know why.”

but even you know the excuse is not gonna fly with him. he knows you’re hiding something — but he refuses to press you any more than he already has. “i want you to know that… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. but i’m here for you, okay? i want you to be happy.”

god, you could actually cry.

the words affect you, and you move to hug him, which he embraces like his life depends on it. “thanks, hannie.”

“anytime, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his heart racing when he realizes this is the first time you’ve hugged him like this, and that’s special to him.

the two of you hold one another for a little longer until you release him, and you loop your arm through his. “i’m drained after hearing that speech. wanna go get coffee?”

“you read my mind.”

leaving your parents behind, jeonghan takes you with him, hoping to spend the rest of his day with you.

the café you’ve just arrived at is relatively small, with a few people seated on the terrace outside and an older couple inside. jeonghan urges you to sit down at one of the tables and relax ― he figures you might like that after getting upset in the church.

with your go-to order already in mind, he goes up to the counter to order for both of you, and you’re staring at the people passing by on the sidewalk until a high-pitched shriek pulls you out of it.

“jeonghan? oh my god! it’s been so long, how are you?” the girl at the counter says cheerfully to him, and he’s pretty sure she would’ve pulled him in for a hug if it weren’t for the counter separating them. “i almost didn’t recognize you with the red hair! suits you, though.”

he gives her a polite smile in return. “i wanted the change, i guess.”

“what can i get you?”

“a regular cappuccino and a decaf, please.”

“oh, you got company?”

“girl by the window.”

her expression falters a bit. “is she your date?”

a question he’d prefer not to answer, really. she doesn’t need to know you’re the stepsister he has a massive crush on, so he just gives a vague answer like he always does. “something like that.”

she seems intrigued but refrains from asking any further questions. “alright. you got a stamp card?”

about three minutes later, he puts two cups of coffee on your table, sitting down across from you.

“thanks.” you mention, and jeonghan notices just a slight difference in your behavior. “the barista, is she a friend?”

jeonghan puts two and two together ― or so he thinks ― before taking a first tentative sip of his coffee. “her name’s bitna. we went to high school together.”

“oh, i know her name. she’s in my class, unfortunately.” you mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears it, gesturing for you to tell him more. “you remember when you saw me arguing with a girl before we went to the store a while back? it’s her i was arguing with.”

that raises questions in him. “what was she bothering you for?”

“fuck if i know. she was pressuring me about my reason for transferring, i just… i don’t know.”

“if she bothers you again, just come to me. i’ll deal with her.”

“well, contrary to how she spoke to me, she seemed pretty excited to see you.”

“well, this was our first time seeing each other in two or three years. but she’s always been… expressive.”

“ah.” you hum, averting your gaze when you take your cup, secretly cheering that she’s not some girl he’s seeing. when he taps his fingers on the surface, you watch him leaning forward over the small, wooden table.

“not jealous, are you, sis?” he asks you with a brief quirk of his brow, and you shrug.

“what should i be jealous of?”

“you? nothing. ‘cause you already have me,” he drawls, “from what a friend told me, bitna liked me when we were still in school together, but i highly doubt she still does. i mean, it’s been years.”

“you didn’t like her back?”

“nope. not my type.”

“so what is your type?”

a few strands of his dark red hair dangle before his eyelids when he looks up at you from under his brows. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’ve ever been in love.” but maybe he is now.

even though he doesn’t say the last part out loud, it’s like you can still hear it, and the way he looks at you ― god, has anyone ever looked at you like that?

the silent eye contact speaks volumes, and he moves to stick out his index finger, pointing at your cup. “i think your coffee might be getting a bit cold.”

rolling your eyes at his attempt of taking your attention off him, he just chuckles, and while you and him enjoy each other’s company, you fail to notice how the barista has barely taken her eyes off the two of you since jeonghan sat down.

two weeks pass by, and as your mother’s wedding approaches, you try to ignore the growing feelings for your stepbrother.

you thought it’d go away if you repressed it as much as you could.

which was a big mistake to think. huge.

the relationship you have with jeonghan becomes more complicated by the day. people around you, especially your parents, encourage you and him to bond like a brother and sister would, they even seem to act like you are related in that way — even though you most certainly aren’t — but whenever you’re alone with him, it’s completely different.

every touch you give each other feels more intimate, every kiss he presses to your cheek gets closer to your lips. with every passing day, the boundaries of what should be a familial connection get pushed further, the lines blurring.

and it, frankly, drives you insane.

jeonghan hasn’t directly expressed how he feels about you ― not that you have either, for that matter ― but the way he acts around you and talks to you feels like he’s definitely insinuating it, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up.

but you have to, because he can’t be anything but a brother to you.

is it really that selfish of you to just want to have him kiss you? just once?

“honey, it’d be great if you could focus on standing still and upright.” your mother’s stern voice suddenly rings through your ears, shaking you awake from your thoughts.

“right. sorry.” you mutter, glancing at the dressing mirror in front of you. on your bare feet, you’re standing on a small, round display platform so the two assistants of the designer can perfectly see whether the dress you’re gonna be wearing to the wedding fits well and if it needs any adjustments.

the dark navy satin dress just about reaches your knees, and you have to admit ― you feel very pretty in it.

“the waist just needs to be stitched a bit tighter; it’ll enhance her features more.”

“i agree. we could also adjust the straps a bit.”

the assistants converse with your mother about their thoughts, and they follow her out of the living room not much later, leaving you in the same spot, admiring how the dress hugs your curves in the mirror since you’re by yourself anyways ― though not for long.

jeonghan, who’s just arrived home, peeks around the corner, and he leans against the doorframe to gaze at you, even if you’ve already spotted him.

“that dress is gorgeous on you.”

turning around to look at him, you smile at the compliment. “you think?”

he nods, taking a few steps over to you. “i do. looks like the bottom is a bit twisted, though.”

then you face forward again, to the mirror in front of you, and you watch as he’s standing behind you, feeling him tug at the fabric a little as he fixes the back of your dress.

goosebumps erupt on your arms when he suddenly touches your skin. the way his fingers slide from above the knee to your upper thigh is slow, and his voice is a lot closer to you than before.

“how does that feel?” he whispers, lips brushing past your ear, and you make eye contact with him in the mirror, your back pressed against his front.

you have to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together to give yourself some friction. the way he teases you has you aching to be touched. “feels… good.”

ironically, he needs to force himself to have self-restraint more than you do right now. he wants nothing more than to just rip that fabric off your body and get on his knees to taste you, but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

you’re the forbidden fruit, after all.

“i’ve thought about doing this since the day i met you. wrong of me, right?” he rasps, the cold metal of the silver ring sitting around his index finger causing you to shiver.

“yeah—you shouldn’t.” you tell him, yet you grab his arm and lean into his touch, allowing him to roam your body.

if anything, the way you give in to him like this only gets him hotter. “where do you want me to touch you?”

“hannie…”

the nickname has him inhaling sharply, “answer me.”

swallowing, you give him what he wants. “higher.”

your wish is his command — so he moves his fingers up higher, towards your underwear, and you let out a soft gasp, which nearly has him moaning in your ear.

then he rubs over your clothed pussy, and when you lean your head back, on his shoulder, he presses kisses all over your neck and cheek.

with a low voice, he whispers, “you’d let me have you right here, right now? when anyone could walk in?”

when you hum in response, he wonders how the hell he managed to come across a girl this perfect.

he pushes your underwear to the side and watches your lips part as he slides two of his fingers into you.

feeling you squeeze around his fingers makes him ridiculously hard in his jeans. “that’s it, pretty girl. relax for me.”

the gasps leaving your mouth are hot and erotic. hearing his breathing get louder and uneven turns you on even more, and you can only imagine the idea of having his cock inside you instead of his fingers — god, what you’d do to have him in your bed.

his eyes remain on your face. he thinks you just look so fucking pretty when your eyes roll back in pleasure, and it makes him want to drop everyone and everything just to be able to keep watching you like this.

right when he’s about to add another finger, you hear your mother’s voice approaching again, and jeonghan steps away from you, hiding his hands behind his back.

your mother looks surprised at the sight of her stepson standing near you but forgets about it once she notices your red cheeks.

“everything okay, honey? you look like you’re burning up.”

all you can do is stumble out an excuse. “yeah, i’m fine. just, uh… is it warm in here? it’s warm in here.”

she only raises a brow but continues talking to the assistants about the changes to your dress, and jeonghan subtly backs away from you, shooting you a satisfied grin.

it’s hard not to catch the smirk on his face when he leaves the room, sucking the taste of you from his wet fingers once no one but you is looking at him.

when he’s actually gone, you realize what just happened — he didn’t just make a move, he actually went as far as to touch you.

fuck.

IV. SUCCUMB TO YOUR GREED

much to your frustration, you’ve hardly seen jeonghan since he stuck his fingers in you.

he went on a trip to the other side of the country for one of his courses, which took four days, and he only got back from said trip last week. while you’ve seen him around at certain moments since his return, it’s only been briefly or when your parents were in the room.

so, to put it shortly, you pretty much haven’t talked about it.

if anything, nothing has changed in his behavior towards you. he’s still as smug and sarcastic as ever — you’d think nothing happened.

reality begins to kick in when your parents announce they’ll be getting married in a mere two weeks, and the smile you have on your face is so utterly fake that it almost hurts.

all you can think of is how much you want him to yourself.

later that night, when your parents have gone to bed, you head into the kitchen for a snack, and jeonghan stands there, downing a glass of alcohol, it seems.

he lazily eyes you as you come up to him, and you turn the bottle to read the label. “whiskey? pretty sure you shouldn’t be drinking that like you’re doing a shot of vodka.”

“i know. if i’m drinking like this, it’s to get drunk. or at least tipsy.”

“by yourself? at home? you’re not secretly an alcoholic, are you?”

he rolls his eyes with a huff, pinching at your skin, at which you laugh and push him away. “no, i’m not. just wanna stop my mind from racing.”

“is something bothering you?”

he can’t stand how pretty you look, even in the darkness of the kitchen.

“yes.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“no.” he responds, and he swears he finds something of disappointment in your features.

his sweet girl ― how could he not give in?

the glass hits the countertop with a clink when he puts it away. jeonghan moves in to kiss you with full force, his hand behind your head to make sure it doesn’t hurt when your back hits the fridge.

what kills him is that you immediately kiss him back, because this is all he wants. you.

when he pulls away, his lips are swollen and tainted with your lip balm. your hands are on the back of his neck, and he has his one hand on the side of yours, thumb sitting underneath your jaw.

your heavy breathing matches his, and you lean in to kiss him again, but he hesitantly stops you — as if he needs to restrain both of you from letting this get out of hand.

“i’m sorry.” he has to push the words out, letting go of you, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and its matching glass before disappearing from the kitchen.

in disbelief of what just happened, you can only blink, dumbfounded.

the kiss is all you can think about whenever you see him the following days. despite everything that’s happened between you when you were alone, neither of you has brought it up, nor has your behavior towards each other changed in any way.

perhaps it’s the lavish wedding your mother’s so busy with that you can barely even think about it properly. the two weeks pass by so fast that you begin to process it on the day of the event itself, and just like that, you’re standing beside jeonghan by the church’s altar, watching with a blank stare as his father says the vows you couldn’t care less about.

what you do care about, though, is how criminally dashing your stepbrother looks in his suit, which matches with your dress. you can’t help yourself, glancing at him from the corner of your eye every now and then, and when he momentarily shifts his weight from one leg to the other, he purposefully brushes past your leg.

as your parents walk down the aisle together after being pronounced husband and wife, everyone’s attention being on them, jeonghan leans down to whisper in your ear, “we’re officially brother and sister now.”

“lucky me.”

he plays with your earring for a moment until you swat his hand away. “oh, don’t act as if you don’t like me.”

“i find you highly annoying, actually.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night, pretty girl.”

he’s given you so many compliments at this point that you’re able to hide the redness of your cheeks, but it still makes you feel like a schoolgirl getting praised by her crush on the inside.

all you can do is ache for him. have you ever pined for someone like this? you doubt it.

the wedding and everything that comes with it goes by smoothly, just as planned — except for your own agenda.

maybe it was selfish of you to hope that jeonghan would touch you again during the night of the wedding.

but he still hasn’t. and it’s starting to piss you off. first he nearly has sex with you, then radio silence, then he kisses you, followed by radio silence again — and you’re planning to find out just how far you need to go to make him cave.

it’s only a week later when the perfect opportunity arises, all courtesy of joshua.

would you consider yourself a party girl? once a month, maybe. you overall like to stay in more, but you welcome the occasional night of letting loose.

you very subtly mention the event to jeonghan on purpose. “are you also going to the party one of joshua’s friends is hosting tomorrow night? i forgot the guy’s name—”

“you’re going to mingyu’s party? with who?”

oh, you definitely detect that surprise in his tone. “just a few friends from class. they asked me if i wanted to come with, and joshua asked if i came as well, so… will i see you there?”

“maybe.” he answers with a furrowed brow, leaving the room, immediately texting mingyu about the details of the party, despite having declined the invitation two days prior because he wasn’t really feeling it.

and just like that, around eleven o’clock, he finds himself getting ready for the party, cursing himself for the way you make him act.

he hasn’t seen you since this afternoon, since you told him you’d go with one of your friends after class and get ready with her.

with his hair slicked back — save for a few strands hanging in front of his forehead — and a leather jacket thrown on, he heads out to mingyu’s place.

it’s the host of the party who comes up to greet him. “jeonghan! good to see you, i almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“i’m not planning on staying long. just wanted to say hi since life’s been busy recently.”

“i met your sister. she’s nice.” mingyu says, and it feels as if a switch flips in his head.

“yeah. where is she, by the way? i actually gotta talk to her about something.”

the taller of the two points to the kitchen. “i think she was getting herself a drink.”

“alright, thanks. i’ll talk to you later, yeah?” jeonghan says, giving mingyu a squeeze in his arm, which he reciprocates.

the party started about an hour and a half ago, the room already warm and reeking of alcohol and sweat.

when he enters the kitchen, he doesn’t see you anywhere at first — that is, until you turn around.

you look like a dream. perhaps even that’s an understatement.

a tight, black satin mini-dress with a sweet-heart neckline and a gold necklace sitting on top of your exposed collarbones. your makeup suits you perfectly — you look gorgeous.

what tops it all off is that sweet smile that rises to your face as soon as you recognize him.

“when did you get here, hannie?”

“i, um…” he looks you up and down once more, almost forgetting to answer you, “just now.”

you move in to give him a quick hug, and he has to hold back from letting his hands roam too low, sucking in a breath when you press your body against his even more than usual.

“wanna do a shot with me?”

“depends on how many you’ve had already.”

“only two. i’m a big girl, jeonghan. i don’t need my brother to take care of me.”

a funny statement, considering you’d actually like him to take care of you.

“it’s not you i’m worried about, baby.” he responds, mimicking your tone and attitude, which makes you grin.

you’ve shoved the tiny glass filled with vodka into his hand in the blink of an eye, and he clinks his glass with yours before downing the bitter liquid, feeling it burning in his throat.

“that was my only alcohol for the night. i drove here,” he informs you as he’s putting the glass on the counter, “you’re coming with me after this, right?”

you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you think of the best way to answer him. “well, it depends.”

the tension between you grows when he looks you in the eye. “depends on what?”

“don’t play dumb.”

he’s about to say something when he catches you briefly glancing at joshua, who’s absentmindedly checking his phone at the other side of the room.

oh, hell no.

“you’re kidding, right?” jeonghan scoffs, appalled at the idea of you landing in his best friend’s bed. “him, of all people?”

you’ve come to be so comfortable with him that you don’t mind being a little spiteful. “what? he’s cute.”

“i don’t care if he is,” he gets closer to you, his tone lower and sterner than before, “he’s my closest friend.”

“so? he doesn’t seem to mind that i’m your sister. besides, plenty of girls have a thing for being with their brother’s best friend, and vice versa. what’re you gonna do about it?”

jeonghan’s frustration suddenly dies down like a fire being put out, because he’s finally realizing what you’re doing, and his cockiness comes right back to his features. “you don’t even like him like that. you’re just trying to provoke me.”

well, shit. there goes plan a.

“no i’m not.”

“you definitely are.” he smirks gleefully, knowing damn well he’s right.

“i like joshua enough to let him give me a fun night.”

he has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to stop himself from saying he’d give you a better one, but a part of him doesn’t think you’ll go as far as to go home with joshua.

“if you say so. have fun, sweetheart.”

“i will.” you tell him, leaving him by himself in the kitchen, and he rolls his eyes.

being at this party is slowly but steadily pissing him off. he can’t have fun or focus on anyone or anything else as long as you’re in this room, knowing you’re preparing to make use of joshua’s little crush on you. and to what end? to make him jealous?

he figures this, in a way, is the result of his own actions. he’s been sending mixed signals towards you about his feelings. the stunt he pulled at your dress fitting was uncharacteristically impulsive of him, as was that late-night kiss in the kitchen, and it’s not that he doesn’t want you like that ― it’s that he can’t.

or shouldn’t.

after two hours of unbearable small talk and several glasses of non-alcoholic beer, jeonghan decides he’s had enough. he will be taking you home tonight, one way or another.

from the other side of the room, he watches joshua lean closer to your face just to say something in your ear over the loud music — and he’s touchy. shua only gets touchy with those who are either friends, family, or people he wants to pursue.

a raw sense of possessiveness begins to swirl in his gut, the feeling of it reaching the tips of his fingers.

envy is a rare thing for jeonghan. usually, he’s the one people are envious of, as arrogant as that may sound. it’s not something he brags about, really.

but when he’s envious, he gets selfish. a little manipulative, even, if necessary to get what he wants.

so his legs move to get to you before joshua can do anything he doesn’t approve of, but then someone calls out his name.

“jeonghan? hey!”

he turns his head to find the last person he cares about right now. matter of fact, he really doesn’t want to talk to her, since she’s bothered you a while ago, yet out of good manners, he doesn’t show it, remaining somewhat friendly. “bitna. nice to see you again.”

the girl smiles a little too brightly at him for his liking. “are you in a hurry? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“no, i just… it’s nothing.”

while his head is spinning from sheer jealousy, he’s about to walk away from bitna when she speaks up again.

“i actually wanted to ask you something.” just the mere sound of her voice makes him press his lips together out of annoyance ― is it not obvious to her he has other matters to attend to?

“you do?”

“look, i, um… i’ve liked you for a while now, and i was just wondering if you wanted to… go out with me sometime?”

the confession falls on deaf ears, since jeonghan can only focus on the fact that his best friend is making a move on you across the room. “i’m—i’m sorry. i can’t really talk right now. see you later?”

bitna lets out a baffled scoff when he pushes past her to walk to the other side of the room, and she begins to get a faint idea of the reason behind his hasty behavior when she notices him approaching you and joshua, and she watches the interaction from afar like a hawk.

jeonghan runs a hand through his half-long hair and walks over to you, one hand on joshua’s shoulder and the other on your upper arm, as if greeting two friends.

“there you guys are. been looking all over for you.” he puts up a smile relatively naturally to appear convincing.

joshua, with a drink still in hand, looks a little bummed that his best friend had to come over to interrupt the conversation, but his fondness for him quickly returns.

“ready to go?” jeonghan turns his attention to you, and you have a hard time keeping your balance.

“already? i just got here, hannie!” you exclaim, your usual calm and quiet demeanor replaced by an outgoing and giggly one. he thinks it’s cute to see the effect alcohol has on you, though he doesn’t think you’re drunk, just very tipsy.

“i know, i’d prefer to stay too, but i promised your mom i’d get you home at a… somewhat reasonable hour. got the family gathering in the morning, remember?”

honestly, you can hardly even call it a gathering. you simply made the deal you’d be home to see your parents off before they go on their honeymoon, and it’s a perfect excuse to take you home now ― though you certainly could refuse him. if you wanted to.

but jeonghan knows better. you want only one person here, and it’s not joshua.

you let out an exaggerated huff. “fuck, i forgot.” but even in your less-than-sober state of mind, your infatuation for your stepbrother floods your senses, and you desperately want to be around him, ready to leave everyone and everything behind.

so you take a step towards him, nearly losing your balance, yet he catches you with ease. for someone appearing on the frail side, he’s actually a lot stronger than you’d think.

he puts his arm around your waist to ensure you don’t fall, and you happily wave at his best friend, who’s still standing beside you. “bye, shua.”

his friendly smile briefly returns to his face at your sweetness. “bye. drink some water when you get home, okay?”

you nod, walking out of the place with jeonghan’s arm still around you.

the road back home is quiet, and a bit of a blur to you, if you’re honest. he helped put your seatbelt on when you were struggling with the buckle and proceeded to force you to down an entire bottle of water, which you did with a pout.

with barely suppressed laughter, you and jeonghan walk up to the front door of the manor, and he has to constantly shush you to keep it down so your parents don’t wake up.

the house is completely quiet, save for the creaking of the chandelier above the stairs in the main hall. he guides you up until you finally make it to your room, where you let yourself fall onto the bed with a loud thud, eliciting a snort from him. “nope. to the bathroom you go.”

“ugh, to do what?”

“to drink some water, brush your teeth, et cetera. c’mon.”

“but ‘m so tired, hannie.”

“i know, baby. i’ll help you.” he coos, and your heart beats just a bit faster at the nickname.

so he helps you up and gets you to the bathroom, holding your jaw to brush your teeth. he’s awfully focused on the task, and you’re just staring at him the entire time, causing him to laugh.

“staring is rude.”

“maybe i am rude.”

he laughs again. “sure.”

you spit the toothpaste out in the sink and finally get some water in your system, and it feels like the sobering up of your senses is already happening.

it doesn’t make you act any less bold, though.

when he wants to say goodnight, you grab his arm. “wait—can you just—help me with one last thing?”

“what?”

“my dress. it’s so fucking tight that i barely got it on myself, my friend helped put it on. please?”

he looks down at the dress and back up at your face, and either you’re playing him to get him to undress you or you’re genuinely clueless.

but jeonghan tells himself he can do this. “turn around.” his voice is a bit lower than before, and you shiver at his tone before doing as he says.

the faint sound of the laces slowly being undone brings goosebumps to your skin, and you know it means he’s looking at the now visible clasp of the lacy black bra you’re wearing underneath the dress.

“were you hoping to impress someone with this tonight?” he somehow still manages to sound sweet despite the snark in his attitude. “joshua?”

it makes you look at him over your shoulder. “he’s cute. just… not really my type.”

he chuckles to himself, your back still facing him. “yeah, i could’ve told you that.”

you beat around the bush just for the sake of doing so. “why? how would you know what my type is?”

as he moves on to the laces covering your lower back, he pulls on them a little harder than before. “it’s unlike you to play the fool. especially with me.”

all you can do is scoff.

once he’s reached the last lace, he glances at your body for a moment before backing away from you. “change into some comfortable clothes and get some sleep, alright?”

with the dress still on, you turn around to face him again. “are you serious?”

“what?”

“you bring me home early as soon as your best friend is about to kiss me, and now you’re just not gonna act on your feelings? all of that for nothing?”

“not for nothing,” he says coolly, tilting his head, “i made sure joshua didn’t get to make his move on you.”

honestly, you’d be pissed off at him if you actually liked shua in that way. what does piss you off, though, is that he won’t make a move on you.

“i could always call him,” you suggest, though you wouldn’t act on it, but he doesn’t need to know that, “maybe he’ll give me what you won’t.”

but as always, jeonghan sounds unfazed. always the smartest guy in the room. “he’s too sweet for you. a good catholic kid. he probably wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

“like you would.”

“i think we both know the answer to that question.”

“oh, please. you barely even touched me.”

“true. but you must’ve enjoyed it, since you’re here, asking for more.”

“and what’s stopping you from giving me that?”

“we’re family now.”

“says the guy who calls me baby and kisses me on the lips,” you scoff, making it your mission to get him to give in.

so you shrug off the dress that was loosely clinging onto your body to drop it to the floor, and the second he lays eyes on the lacy lingerie, you know he’s practically done for.

“it’s simple. say you don’t want me, and i’ll let it go.”

there’s something charming about his brain short-cutting now that you’re standing in front of him like this, and you’re backing him into the corner so easily. “sweetheart―”

“have you thought about it, since you touched me? having me like this?” you interrupt teasingly, and when he doesn’t say anything, you can’t help but smile in realization. “oh my god, you have.”

he’s clearly doing his best to maintain the untouchable persona, but even you see the truth. “it doesn’t change anything.”

you want him to act out for once, see what’s underneath that exterior. something about him makes you want to be bold — yet completely you.

so you reach behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, and he has to swallow to keep it together.

if anything, he’s a bit baffled. he didn’t expect you to undress right here, right now, in front of him. but you just do it, looking as confident as ever.

with two small steps forward, you put your hands on his chest to push him back on the chair behind him. his breath hitches, and he tries to hold you back, failing to sound convincing in the slightest. “we shouldn’t.”

“you touched me first. you started it.” you shrug, moving to sit in his lap, and he does his best to focus on anything but your bare chest.

“i know that, but… i can’t. regardless of how much i want to.” he breathes out while your hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

“i wore this set for you, y’know. just like that dress. hell, why do you think i even went to that party?”

oh.

oh.

sure, he figured you messed with joshua on purpose to rile him up — but he didn’t think you’d planned the whole night like this.

it’s something he would do, and a certain sense of pride rushes through him.

he makes the mistake of looking down where your nearly naked body grinds against his clothed crotch, and it makes him sick.

because the feeling of it is so much better than it already was in his wet dream.

“if i fuck you now—” he inhales sharply with his hand trembling on your lower back, “it won’t end there. i’ll want you again, and again, and again.”

it’s the only reason he hasn’t given in fully yet, something he realized after touching you the way he did and nearly getting caught.

he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone, you’re addictive to him, and he knows that once he crosses this line with you, it’s over for him. he’ll want nothing more than to be with you, to fuck you and love you and have you be his.

even more than he already does.

“did you think i wanted this to be a one-time thing?” you ask, putting your hands on his jaw. “fuck me, hannie. please.”

jeonghan takes one look at your eyes and decides to say goodbye to that last thread his honor was hanging onto.

your kiss is gentler than anticipated. perhaps it’s because this is the first time you both fully get to savor it, taste it ― it’s so sickeningly sweet that he almost forgets you’re practically naked on top of him, while he’s still fully clothed.

he shrugs his jacket off with ease, throwing it onto the floor, your lips on his again before he can comprehend it. his hands roam all over your body, his breathing speeding up as his kisses trail down your jaw, to your neck, the sensation of his tongue on the skin by your collarbone making you feel weak.

with your legs around him, he gets up from the chair and puts you down on your bed. “i didn’t get to make you cum last time, so i should probably finish that, right?”

“but i want―”

“i know what you want.” he cuts you off, removing his shirt, smirking to himself when you shamelessly stare at his abs. “i’ll give it to you, but i wanna taste you first.”

he gets on the mattress in just his jeans, the waistband of his underwear peeking out from the top of his pants, and you like the sight of his bare chest.

unlike his usual patient self, jeonghan refuses to waste any more time. the way he acts isn’t rushed, but he’s got a certain hunger clawing at his chest that’s fighting to get out ― and it only really wants one thing.

your hands quickly reach out to grab his dark red hair once he’s got his head between your legs, his fingers firmly clasped on your thighs. he’s greedy, mouth and nose buried in your wetness.

“fuck—jeonghan—”

it’s when he hums in satisfaction that your eyes roll back. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch him run his tongue over your pussy, savoring the taste of you.

the sheer emptiness in your gut while you’re getting wetter by the second is driving you insane. you’re clenching around nothing, aching to be filled up, and he’s so mean for not doing so already.

his lips latch onto your clit, and you inhale sharply, your hold on his hair even harder than before, making him moan. he’s rubbing his clothed cock against the mattress while his hands and mouth are on your body, and he’s close to feeling fucking ecstasy.

when he comes back up for air, he’s breathing heavily, moving upwards to kiss your stomach. you take his wrists to bring his hands up to your breasts, and he’s almost hypnotized by your greed.

“fuck, hannie, ‘m so wet—just take me. please?” you beg, and he just can’t help it; he can’t refuse you.

he sits up on his knees to unbutton his jeans, fingers trembling in anticipation as he watches you glance at him.

shrugging off the last of his clothes, he reaches for the condom he’s got sitting in his wallet, rolling it on swiftly. he almost laughs at the way your eyes follow his every move.

“put your legs up.” he mutters, and you mindlessly follow his command, feeling the warm buds of his fingertips on your calves as he puts your legs over his shoulders.

jeonghan pushes into you slowly and gently, allowing you to adjust. you bite your lower lip with a soft grunt while your heat wraps around him.

your hands immediately reach for him, and he enjoys the feeling of your hands on his skin.

“i can’t believe you orchestrated this whole night. were you thinking about this when you nearly kissed my best friend?”

all you can do is let out a playful laugh. “would it be so terrible if i said i was?”

“a little. but i like terrible,” he shrugs casually, and you force yourself not to get caught up in the silver chain dangling above your face.

it’s then that you realize it’s a cross necklace.

the irony of it makes you chuckle, and jeonghan catches you staring at it, his eyes lighting up dauntingly.

“to think our parents got such a wonderful wedding in that church, and all i wanted was to fuck you right then and there,” his fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps his pace slow but deep, teasing you to no end, “i fucking knew you wanted me too. decided to make me jealous just to get me to fuck you — so dirty.”

“you’re the one fucking your sister—”

“says the girl who begged to be fucked by her brother,” he moves his hips harder, making you moan, “but don’t worry, baby. i don’t judge.”

he’s awfully cocky about the situation, which you do think is hot, but it also riles you up.

completely taken aback when you flip the two of you over, he’s suddenly got you sitting on top of him, and you’re shaking your head. “don’t start things you can’t finish, hannie.”

the lazy smirk he always sports falters when you slowly rock back and forth, his cock twitching inside you.

“fine. then you should finish it,” he mutters breathily, failing to come across as smug as usual, giving you full control to do whatever you want with him.

he hisses through gritted teeth when you clench around him, his hands finding their way to your hips.

“oh, fuck.” he grunts, briefly closing his eyes in pleasure, and you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “you feel so fucking good, baby.”

as his breathing begins to quicken, he circles your clit with his thumb, causing you to shudder on top of him.

“shit! don’t—don’t do that, not yet—”

“i want you to cum around me. you can do that, right?” he urges you, feeling close to begging you simply because he wants to see your face and feel your body shake on him.

humming a response, you move your hips faster, trying to give him what he wants while simultaneously chasing your own high.

“oh my god, jeonghan—”

“that’s it, baby. doing so well for me.”

his praise is enough for you to hit your climax, your thighs trembling beside him, and the tightening of your muscles hits him to the point it makes him hit his peak as well.

once you’ve come down from it, he flips you over, going right at it again and again, until it’s deep into the night and you’re both spent.

your head lies comfortably on his chest, trailing his warm skin with your finger.

he’s softly stroking through your hair. “i can’t believe you did all of that. poor joshua became collateral damage.”

“you don’t sound like you care that much.”

“he’ll get over it.”

“you’re so mean.”

“hey, you took part in it too, sweetheart.”

“ugh, you’re right. you know, maybe i should go to the church. commit to the catholic confessions and all that.”

jeonghan scoffs. “what would you even say?”

you shrug, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. i was at this party, and this guy who likes me was about to make a move on me, but i pretty much just left him by himself to go home with my evil stepbrother, who then proceeded to rail me into another dimension—”

“since when am i evil?”

“since the day i met you, if not long before.”

he laughs at the irony of it. “perhaps.”

V. FAMILY TREE

life is surprisingly good when you’re in a secret relationship, jeonghan finds.

whenever your parents are asleep, he quietly moves to your room, slipping under the covers to find you naked and wet and aching for him. he’ll have his hand under your jaw as he buries himself inside you to the hilt with slow, deep strokes.

at breakfast, while your parents are completely oblivious, jeonghan has to fight the urge to smirk, knowing he was inside you a mere hour before.

the sex is ridiculously good ― but he feels as if you’re still closed-off to him. that distance that he felt in those first weeks of being around you has decreased, but it’s still there. he wants nothing more than to be trusted with whatever’s clearly on your mind, but he figures you don’t. not completely.

as jeonghan repeatedly knocks on your door to get you to hurry up for your trip to the cinema, he’s suddenly greeted by your mother walking down the hall, motioning for him to come over to her, away from your door.

“jeonghan,” your mother says softly, “i wanted to thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. she seems… happier, these days. she’s fond of you.”

the heartfelt words make him smile genuinely. “i’m fond of her, too. she’s good company, and i… well, i’ve never had a sister, so…”

“it’s wonderful to see you two get along so well, especially after last year. she was so torn up about it.”

“last year?” he asks, confused.

your mother in turn looks confused as well. “she hasn’t told you?”

“no, i don’t think so.”

she looks behind her for a second to check if the hallway is still empty, proceeding to speak in a more hushed tone. “oh, it was terrible. one of the girls who was a member of her sports team fell to her death while they were all gathered at a party together. the police officers weren’t on the scene quick enough, so all the girls saw the body, and the blood... it took a toll on her, she cuts me off whenever i try to talk to her about it. but since moving here, i suppose she’s gotten the fresh start she needed.”

well, that’s an interesting twist, to say the least.

how traumatic that experience must’ve been for you ― he doesn’t know why you wouldn’t tell him something like that. do you really not trust him at all?

when he takes you out to the city just five minutes later, he pretends not to know a thing about your mother’s words to him. he’s eager to wait and see when you’ll open up.

it takes you several weeks more to do so. you’re in his room, and he’s laying down on his back while you’re on your stomach next to him, pushing yourself up on your elbows, fiddling with your fingers. “do you think what we’re doing is wrong?”

“million-dollar question, isn’t it?” he shrugs while looking up at the ceiling. “it feels good to us. why would it be wrong?”

“everyone would disapprove. our parents would probably disown us, one might argue it’s even, you know… morally wrong.”

he blinks at your words slowly, voice slightly gentler than before.

“perhaps you should start looking at things differently. y’know, i ask myself a certain question sometimes.” jeonghan finally meets your gaze, and it’s almost hypnotic. “who will you be when no one can stop you?”

“and what’s your answer?”

“as for me — someone who doesn’t live by the rules. i live my life however i want. if that means doing something other people consider to be ‘wrong’… so be it.”

“how far would you take that? how wrong?”

“as wrong as you want it.”

he notices your breathing quicken. his eyes flick down to your collarbone before moving back up again. your hand faintly brushes past his, and he goes out of his way to put your hand on his chest, so utterly desperate to have that intimacy with you at every possible opportunity.

“can i ask you something, hannie?”

“always.”

“would you still like me if i said i was guilty of something?”

jeonghan refrains from making a playful comment when he takes notice of the seriousness in your tone, like you’re about to confess something. “what’re you guilty of?”

“i…” your breath hitches in your throat, and your impulsivity fails you, “no, forget i said anything.”

that’s when he turns his head to look at you. “hey, don’t do that. you can tell me anything.”

“i want you to still like me, jeonghan.”

he feels genuinely touched that you value the bond you two have as much as he does. “sweetheart, you could tell me you’re secretly the head of a drug cartel and i’d still like you. c’mon, tell me.”

you fiddle with his fingers to avoid looking at him, but you do begin to open up. “last year, i was a member of the university hockey club. i was close with a couple of my teammates, but not all of them. in february, there was a party on campus to celebrate the nearing end of the sports season, just like every year.”

jeonghan can almost see your throat tightening up. your struggle is so utterly visible that it makes him grow worried.

but he stays quiet.

“at a certain point that night, it was so hot inside that i went up to the rooftop to get some fresh air, since we were high up in the building with the party. about ten minutes later, one of my teammates also came up to the roof. we hated each other’s guts since the start. it was pretty obvious that she had too much to drink, but she began to just… talk shit to me, saying the team was better off without me and other teammates i was close with, and i got riled up, ‘cause i knew she didn’t like me at all. so our fight eventually became physical ― she tried to claw at my hair and face, and i pushed her away from me in the heat of the moment, i didn’t see that she was standing at the edge until she…”

he finishes the sentence as you refuse to do so yourself.

“until she’d already fallen to her death.”

you nod as a confirmation, and he finally manages to catch your gaze, a pair of glossy eyes staring back at him.

all kinds of questions run through his head. “what happened afterwards?”

“hannie…” you softly protest, heart crumbling with every word that comes out of your mouth, because it makes you feel so fucking vulnerable ― you can’t bear the thought of him leaving you or judging you.

he hums, tilting your chin upwards so you keep facing him. “no, baby. tell me.”

the nickname rolls off his tongue so naturally that you nearly miss it. “everyone who was there that night was questioned. there were no cameras, no witnesses, everyone knew she had a problem with alcohol… so i… i just said the same as everyone else. i lied. when the police ruled it an accident, everyone believed it.”

“it was.”

“except it wasn’t, because i pushed her.” you bury your face in your hands for a moment. “the shock hit me so hard that i went to the bathroom and threw up everything i ate that night. but once it wore off, i just… i didn’t feel guilty. i don’t care that she fell to her death ― it was unfortunate but bound to happen. and that’s what scares me, ‘cause i’m―i’m supposed to feel guilty about this, right? what kind of shitty person am i that i just don’t feel that? what the fuck is wrong with me?”

everything suddenly falls into place. the threatening arguments you had with bitna, the way you nearly had a breakdown at the church, the distance you’ve been so eager to keep since the day you stepped foot in this place.

this is what you were trying to run away from by coming here.

you don’t feel guilty because you pushed a girl plummeting to her death ― you feel guilt because you simply can’t bring yourself to care.

“did you want to push her?”

“jeonghan.” your tone is close to hostile, but his calm demeanor somehow pushes through.

“answer the question.”

“i—”

the stumble of an answer makes him smirk, and his face inches closer to yours, not allowing you to try and give the answer that’s clearly not the truth. “you did. you’re glad she’s dead.”

“stop. just stop.”

“you’re just saying this because you feel obligated to, not because you mean it. tell me how you really feel. i won’t judge you.”

every word coming out of his mouth tears you open little by little, exposing your biggest secret and darkest thoughts. but if he’s already deducted it — why not tell him?

it’s like you hit an internal switch. the stress begins to leave your features like he’s never seen before.

he finds it intriguing.

you finally give in and tell him the truth. “okay, fine. i hated that bitch to the bone, and i’m glad she’s dead. but i guess i still have some level of guilt, because now that i’ve done what i did… what kind of person does that make me?”

jeonghan flinches. he’s heard those words before — in his own head.

he wants to tell you that it makes you a lot more like him than he thought, to the point that it almost scares him. you’ve just trusted him with your darkest secret, yet he’s afraid to trust you with his.

what would you think of him? would you still want him the way he wants you?

“it makes you someone who had no choice. she was drunk, looking to start a fight, and you defended yourself.”

“do you really believe that?”

“i do. good and bad are a matter of perspective, and i believe you did the right thing. you’ll let go of that guilt with time. trust me.”

finally telling someone what you’ve had on your chest for so long is freeing, and he hardly appears as repulsed as you’d imagined him to be.

your voice becomes smaller. “but what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll help you. you’re my sister; i’ll take care of you, always.” he promises you, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you don’t know how to respond at first, solely because you don’t think you’ve ever been loved like this ― unconditionally.

with his free hand, he gently runs his hand through your hair, and it’s like you can finally relax now that you know jeonghan sees you as you are and cares for you just as much as before.

“thank you, hannie.” you mutter, laying your head down on his chest, and he presses a kiss on top of your head.

“anytime, sweetheart.”

his shoulders sink in relief under you. all he wants is the people he cares for to put their faith in him, and you’ve just proved you trust him with everything you have.

with you on his mind and in his arms, he drifts off into a deep slumber.

it’s remarkable how your parents remain completely oblivious of everything that’s been going on right underneath their noses. there’s been a few close calls, but nothing serious.

the last thing you expected after opening up to him was for you to grow even closer than you already were, yet that’s exactly what happened.

jeonghan has been particularly insatiable over the course of the past weeks. being all handsy, urging you to stay in his bed a little longer in the mornings, begging you to let him bury his head between your legs when he’s already done so several times — whatever’s in his system these days, it is strong.

not that you’re complaining.

being so comfortable with each other apparently also means pushing limits; the limits to possibly being caught, that is.

pushing his fingers inside you underneath the table when you’re having lunch with your parents, sneaking off into an empty classroom at university, showering together despite everyone being home ― the list goes on. there’s something thrilling about the idea of indulging in something you know you shouldn’t.

one line you haven’t crossed yet is slipping away from a charity event hosted by jeonghan’s father, though it seems that’ll be changing tonight.

jeonghan wasn’t planning on fucking you while the guests are still here, in his own home ― but you just look so gorgeous in that dress, and his jealousy is slowly but steadily going through the roof with every man coming up to you, clearly eyeing your dangerously low neckline.

as you’re heading to grab a new glass of champagne, you’re greeted by your dear stepbrother, and you’ve come to know him well enough to recognize that smug expression painted on his face.

“no.” you immediately tell him, and he huffs.

“oh, c’mon. you’re so not having fun right now.”

“can’t we just wait until everyone’s left?”

“on the contrary. this is the perfect timing.”

“yeah, for you, i bet. are you all hot and bothered, hannie?”

“i am, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

the sarcasm might as well drip from your tongue. “wow, i feel so flattered.”

while your full attention is on jeonghan, and his attention is on you, neither of you are aware that joshua, who was invited alongside his parents, has been staring at you two since jeonghan approached you.

truth be told, joshua’s had the idea something was off about your dynamic that first moment he ever saw you interact with him, in the hallway at university.

jeonghan has never looked at anyone like he looks at you — full of intrigue, full of longing for something he can’t quite put his finger on. which he dismissed at first.

in spite of their close friendship, there is a certain barrier between them. there’s certain lines joshua won’t cross that jeonghan most definitely will, and perhaps he’s found his match in you.

but he still assumes that the relationship you have is platonic. surely it has to be.

only with each passing day, he begins to doubt that.

he’s itching to find out how you are with each other when you’re alone, and it’s a terrible thing to listen in on a conversation, but he wants this. desperately, for whatever reason.

he can’t help himself when he notices you going after him. following you from a distance, he quickly recognizes the room you head into is jeonghan’s.

the walls prove relatively thick, and his attempt to listen in from the outside fails, because he can’t hear anything.

so he blames the three glasses of champagne he downed earlier for making him go on with hasty decision-making as he quietly pushes the door handle down, not planning on actually entering the room, only having the door ajar.

jeonghan’s room is as big as a spacious apartment, so it’s no surprise joshua doesn’t see you anywhere at first.

it’s relatively quiet, with the crackling fireplace making the most noise, and he’s about to turn away from the door when he hears your voice in the background.

“you’re so impatient.”

then there’s jeonghan’s voice. “sue me.”

it remains somewhat quiet after that, until joshua hears noise he can’t make anything out of.

his curiosity gets the better of him, so he takes a few steps forward, peeking around the corner — only to find you together on top of the bed with messy hair and hands all over each other.

he’s taken aback with eyes blown wide as he watches the girl he likes half-naked and writhing underneath his best friend.

he hates how pretty you both look with the light of the fire reflecting on your skin.

jeonghan is completely caught up in the feeling of your heat around him when he throws his head back, but then he catches movement near the corner — and suddenly the two of them lock eyes.

of course he sees how borderline horrified joshua looks at the scene in front of him; he just can’t bring himself to care.

if anything, he simply ensures you keep your head turned the other way while burying himself deeper inside you, shooting his friend one of his classic lazy grins. your moans are the last thing joshua hears before he blinks to himself, leaving the room, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

and jeonghan can only let out a satisfactory chuckle to himself, continuing to fuck you as if he didn’t just catch his best friend staring at the two of you.

matter of fact, it’s not until several days later that he sees him again, at university.

the hallway is as good as empty when joshua shakes his head at the sight of him. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“no? why’s that?”

shua grits his teeth. “how long has this been going on between you and her?”

“not long before our parents got married.”

“that’s several months.” he exclaims with his face even more horrified than before. “why the fuck would you hide something like this from me for so long?”

“why would i tell you at all, shua?”

a pang of hurt shoots through joshua’s chest, and he presses his lips together. “because i liked her.”

“and how was i supposed to know that?”

“you always know these things before i know them myself. don’t tell me you weren’t aware.”

jeonghan catches the hurt in his voice and decides to tone things down. “you’re right. i knew how you felt. i guess i didn’t know how to tell you.”

“look, whatever you’re doing with her needs to stop.”

well, so much for toning things down. he thinks he much prefers being clear and forward instead. “no it doesn’t.”

“jesus christ — you’re fucking your stepsister, jeonghan! how can you be remotely normal about this?”

where joshua’s anger rises, all that surges through jeonghan’s body is pride.

yeah, perhaps the whole thing should make him feel ashamed instead of boosting his ego, but it’s not like he hasn’t already crossed the line of what is and isn’t right. what’s the harm in going even further?

“i’m normal about it ‘cause i like doing it,” he shrugs, hardly attempting to hide his enjoyment, “we’re both adults. we already were when we met several months ago, we weren’t raised together, we’re not related in the slightest. so what does it matter?”

“oh, c’mon. she’s family to you now.”

“true. but i don’t care if i have to break up my father’s marriage for this, shua. she’s mine, one way or another.”

“is it just physical?”

“you’re asking me if i love her?” he nods for a moment, admitting how he feels about you. “i do. a lot. i don’t think i’ve ever felt this way about anyone else.”

that certainly puts a halt to joshua’s snarky comments for the time being. jeonghan is not the type of person to say something like that easily, which also means that no matter what he says, his best friend is not planning on giving you up anytime soon.

but joshua feels hurt ― so he’s going to test that love jeonghan harbors for you, even if it means stooping lower than he ever thought he would.

it’s silent, briefly. he leans closer to his face, narrowing his eyes. “does she know what you did?”

jeonghan’s blood runs cold at the sentence alone. his entire demeanor changes like the flip of a switch ― his lips are pressed together in sheer anger, and he visibly has to hold back from shoving his best friend against the wall. “the fuck did you just say to me?”

“she deserves to know.”

“oh, so now is the moment you suddenly have morals again? what happened to ‘taking it to the grave’, huh?”

“i don’t care what you do, it’s not my secret to tell. but like you said, she’s your family. if you two care about each other so much, then she should know.”

“shua, i value our friendship, which is why i won’t cuss the shit out of you right now, but this is not your business to meddle with. we keep this between us, just like we promised back then. got it?”

“sure.” the sound of joshua’s humorless chuckle rings through his ears. “you know, i used to wonder when you’d finally break. when the burden of what you did might get too much for your conscience. but eventually i realized that’s never gonna happen, because that conscience i thought you had? it doesn’t fucking exist.”

with those words, his best friend leaves him behind. jeonghan has to take a second to comprehend what just happened ― hell, he’s still not sure he heard it right.

neither joshua nor jeonghan are aware that you’ve been listening in on nearly the whole conversation from the other side of the corner, and you’re left asking yourself if you made a mistake trusting jeonghan with your secret.

because he clearly doesn’t trust you with his.

VI. WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

jeonghan stares at the screen of his laptop with a hollow chest and overflowing thoughts.

truth be told, he doubts he’s ever felt this vulnerable.

ever since his falling out with joshua two weeks ago, life has been particularly shitty. his best friend still isn’t speaking to him, and you’ve suddenly started to distance yourself from him too, for whatever reason.

he’s pretty sure he’s going insane. it’s not like he said something to offend you, and you don’t even appear to be angry with him at all ― you’re still as lovely as ever, except you keep yourself far away from him.

every time he’s tried to talk to you, you managed to worm your way out of it, leaving him no choice but to speak to you when you’re about to go to bed.

“you’ve been avoiding me.”

as you’re taking your earrings out in front of the mirror, he watches you raise your brows in annoyance. “yeah, i have.”

“have i done something to upset you?” he hesitantly asks with a gentle voice and big eyes, and you almost begin to feel bad because of it.

you consider denying it and brushing it off but decide not to. “i overheard your conversation with joshua.”

he digs his nails into the palm of his hand. fuck.

“right.”

“that’s it? no witty remark?” you shrug, and jeonghan doesn’t miss the sharp edge to your words.

when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. it’s rare for him to be speechless, but he simply doesn’t know what to say to you.

it makes you even more annoyed than you already are. “you’re not going to tell me about the little secret you share with him, are you?”

he shoots you an apologetic look. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

“why not?”

“because—” because he’s even worse than you are, “—i just can’t. and it’s not ‘cause i don’t trust you—”

“are you serious?” you frown at his sad attempt of making up an excuse. “look at what i’ve told you about me. i trusted you with something like that, but you don’t trust me.”

“i do.” he firmly interrupts. “i trust you more than anyone.”

“well, forgive me if i don’t believe that. if you’re not gonna tell me whatever it is you’re hiding, there’s the door.”

he waits for a second, the spasm in his fingertips being the only visible sign that he’s itching to tell you what’s been sitting on his conscience for so long ― yet not a single word comes out of his mouth.

with shoulders slumped in defeat, he hesitantly takes a step backwards, leaving you behind as he exits your room.

while walking down the hallway to get to his own room, he takes a deep breath. all he can tell himself is that this will probably blow over soon, and perhaps you’ll even forget about it, with time.

several weeks later, he realizes that those thoughts couldn’t be less true.

in the days that have passed since the argument, you’ve hardly even looked at him. he can’t stand this sudden distance between you ― he wishes you understood why he hasn’t told you the truth, but he’s afraid you’ll only understand that once he actually tells you. in which lies the problem.

he doesn’t do that kind of honesty. not usually, anyways.

now, for the first time in weeks, the crippling sense of loneliness he’s been feeling is replaced by annoyance.

he’s always hated the parties hosted by his father’s social circle ― but if he wants his inheritance, he’ll have to bear it. so he finds himself attending a gala in his tailored tuxedo, his hands sitting in his pockets, a deep frown set into his forehead.

maybe it was uncharacteristically naive of him to think everything could go back to the way things were before that conversation with joshua. the last thing he expected, though, was that he’d be the one left behind.

from a distance, he’s been keeping his eye on you. and from what he’s seen, you and joshua are friendly with each other again, and jeonghan gets the feeling his best friend only holds him accountable for the fact that you’re fucking.

truthfully, you came up to joshua a few days after overhearing their conversation, and you apologized he had to see you and his best friend together in the way that he did. with shua still holding a bit of a soft spot for you, he accepted your apology, and you’ve been enjoying his company ever since.

but he’s not jeonghan.

while anxiously tapping your finger against the champagne glass, you look around the room, since you’ve hardly even seen him tonight.

it’s as if joshua can read your mind. he leans down to speak in a hushed tone. “trouble in paradise?”

him taking notice of it makes you shrug. “no, everything’s fine.”

“sure.” he chuckles knowingly. “i get it. why do you think he’s still my best friend after all these years?”

“what do you mean?”

“i know you overheard our conversation a couple weeks ago. i saw you slip away, and now that i know you’re not on speaking terms with him, well… you put two and two together.”

“i’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me either?”

“i can’t. unfortunately.”

the cryptic response has you rolling your eyes at him. “i don’t understand why you guys are being so secretive about it.”

“because if he told you, you’d see him for who he really is.”

“and who would that be?”

“someone who…” he swallows for a moment. “someone who will make you question your own sanity. he’s willing to do the worst things you could possibly think of and then act like it’s completely normal. he’s the worst person i know.”

the brutal honesty catches you off guard. “so why do you keep going back to him?”

“i’ve asked myself the same question. there’s something about him that… i don’t know―just pulls you in, i guess.”

the short-lived silence makes you look at your glass of alcohol with a certain distaste.

“why are you telling me this, joshua? are you saying i should distance myself from him?”

“that’s the thing. there is no distancing yourself from him.”

“you make him sound like a monster.”

joshua doesn’t meet your eyes. “perhaps he is.”

the bitter statement leaves you baffled for a second — until you decide you’re sick of it. “for fuck’s sake, joshua, you can’t say something like that and not elaborate. i live in the same house as him.”

he’s clearly surprised by your sudden and strong grip on his arm, but all it takes is catching a single glance from jeonghan across the room for him to backtrack.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says to you before leaving you behind, hoping to find some peace and quiet in the empty hallway.

all he finds there is the opposite.

“you seem awfully close with my sister. thought you’d try again now that she’s not talking to me?”

joshua stops dead in his tracks. he turns around, seeing his best friend casually leaning against the wall, the soft light of the lamp above his head reflecting on his face. the red circles under his eyes almost match his hair.

“i’m not trying anything. i know she doesn’t like me like that.”

“i’m aware. but perhaps she’d naturally gravitate more towards liking you if you told her… our secret.” jeonghan manipulatively emphasizes, which his best friend fails to register.

joshua clenches his fist. “that’s something you would do. not me.”

“right. you’re a much better person than me.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“just―just tell her the truth. i can’t stand that she knows we’re hiding something.”

“we’re not guilty of anything, shua. i told you that.”

“then why won’t you tell her?”

“because she wasn’t there. she wouldn’t understand.”

but his own worry clouds his judgement and shifts the conversation into a different direction. “i saw bitna tonight. it’s like she fucking knows what we did to her brother―”

jeonghan’s anger comes swift and harsh, causing joshua to flinch. “we agreed to remain silent on this, shua, so you need to keep your end of the deal.”

but jeonghan suddenly notices his best friend is now focused on something behind him, and as his body language changes into something smaller, jeonghan turns his head.

only to see you standing behind him with confused eyes.

fucking hell, he thinks to himself. what is it with everyone and eavesdropping these days?

“joshua, go outside, take a breather. i’ll be back.” he says, taking charge of the situation, barely making eye contact with you when he takes a few steps toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him to an empty room he finds after opening one of the doors, shutting the door behind you. the jealousy is painfully obvious in his face.

“you can’t avoid me forever. and what the fuck are you doing ― being besties with joshua all of a sudden? seriously?”

“oh, so i need your approval on who i befriend now?”

“you know damn well that’s not what i’m saying. it makes zero sense for you to be mad at me but all buddy-buddy with him.”

“because you’re the one i trust! i never put my faith in him the way i put it in you!”

“do you really think i don’t feel the same way? if you actually believe i don’t trust you, you’re not as smart as i thought you to be.”

“fuck you, jeonghan. if you think i’ll ever open up to you again in the way that i did, you’re wrong.”

when you’re about to leave him behind, he stops you, tugging at your arm, and you sigh.

“please don’t leave. please.” he begs, his voice turning small. “i wanna tell you — i’m just scared to lose you when i do. and that’s the one thing i cannot handle.”

you scoff. “oh, c’mon, after what i did, how much worse can it possibly get?”

when he keeps quiet, looking you in the eye with a stern face, yours drops.

“jeonghan, what did you do?”

after opening the door to check if anyone’s there, then closing it again, he rubs his forehead. “me and joshua went on vacation to a winter retreat over our november break with a group of twenty, it was an initiative from a classmate. it ended up being a couple days of a lot of drinking, and then one night, someone pulled out the harddrugs. shua and i didn’t want any, and the guys who brought it clearly thought it was stupid. one of them was bitna’s brother.”

you just listen intently, gesturing for him to continue.

“eventually, he went outside to grab more beer from the storage by himself, which was about a five-minute walk from the house. i slipped out of the room without anyone noticing and went after him. there was a snow storm outside, so the weather was shit. once i got to the storage, i told him to stop harassing shua about taking any drugs, but he reacted badly to it. we got into a fight, i don’t even remember who threw the first punch, but… i pushed him, and when he fell backwards, it’s like i could hear the crack in his skull. he was bleeding from the back of his head, unable to get up. i grabbed my phone to call for help, but all i did was stare at my screen. the guy was bleeding out in front of me and i let him die instead of letting anyone know. and it would’ve been fine — had joshua not come outside.”

“did he watch everything?”

“no, i don’t think he did. i told him exactly what had happened, and he… he came up with the idea of framing it as an unfortunate accident. so that’s what we did. the other guys were so coked out that night that they only found the body the next day, buried under a layer of snow. the cops found the drugs in his system, and he clearly hit his head, so they ruled it an accident like we’d hoped.”

“and you swore to take it to the grave.” you fill in the blanks, and he nods at you. “why didn’t you tell me this when i asked you? what were you so afraid of?”

you see something in him you’ve never seen before — tears. nervousness. panic.

his eyes turn red and his throat tightens up. “when you told me your secret, i was… happy. because the person i care for the most is the only one who’s experienced what i have. but what you had to do was nothing more than an accident, and what i did was on purpose. i could’ve saved that guy, yet i chose not to. i don’t care if that makes me a bad person — i just don’t want you to see me that way. as selfish as that may be.”

he’s on the verge of sobbing, trembling fingers sitting on your waist.

little does he know that you don’t view him as a bad person at all. “you had to make a choice, and you made the right one. who knows what they would’ve done to you if you’d told the truth.”

all he can do is nod, his throat too closed-off to talk.

“you’re my brother. you’ll always have me, jeonghan.” you tell him, remembering the words he said to you after you confessed what was weighing so heavily on your conscience.

and jeonghan cannot help gazing at you ― he realizes that you understand him more than anyone else ever will. he’s free to completely be himself with you as you are with him, and he’s finally processing that.

he cups your face, staring at your lips before pressing his own on them.

the kiss is slow but hungry — full of greed and care and wanting. his hands move from your face to your back, pressing your body closer to his, aching for your bodies to mold together and become one.

his whole body trembles when you break the kiss, and you cup his face as he did yours.

he can’t believe he gave you his bare heart on a silver platter and you chose to stay. you see him for all he is, and in spite of his many flaws, you want him just as much as before.

yoon jeonghan, for the first time in his life, finally knows what it’s like to be loved in the way he so desperately yearned for.

and he wants to show you that he loves you just as much. he leans in to kiss you again, but just when his lips are about to touch yours, the door whips open, and you’re greeted by a phone shoved in front of you.

the vulnerability on your faces is gone the second you recognize the person holding the phone as bitna — who seems horrified.

“what the fuck are you doing?” jeonghan sneers when he realizes she made a picture of your near-kiss.

she stumbles in her step, and it seems like she’s had one too many glasses of champagne. “at first i thought i was imagining things at the party, but i was right. i was trying to finally tell you how much i liked you, even after all these years, and you ditched me for your fucking stepsister!”

that makes you raise your brow. jeonghan just confessed to killing her brother, yet this is what she chooses to talk about — she probably wasn’t eavesdropping, then.

“and how is that any of your business? we’ve barely even spoken to each other since high school.” he responds, his voice to her colder than he’s ever been to you.

“maybe it’s not my business. but the rest of your friends here deserve to know what you’ve been up to, if you ask me.” she says, attempting to make her tone sound just as mean as his, but the tremble in her voice gives her away.

when she grabs her phone and begins to type like she’s on a timer, you both realize what she’s about to do — she’s gonna upload the picture.

if that photo of you and jeonghan gets out, it’ll have serious consequences.

you attempt to snatch the phone out of her hand, but she’s quicker, her sharp nails leaving a scratch on your wrist.

jeonghan sees you hiss from the pain, and he pushes her up against the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat.

“don’t even fucking try it.”

bitna panics and shoves her knee right into his crotch, causing him to grunt from the impact, forced to let go of her neck as he collapses on the floor.

she grabs her phone and runs out of the hallway, and you don’t waste a second, running after her.

with the gala taking place at a mansion by the countryside, you’re far away from civilization, mostly just surrounded by the forest and some badly lit roads.

you go after her even when she runs outside through the backdoor, right between the tall trees. it’s when she trips over her heels that you’re finally able to catch up with her, and you flip her around to choke her unconscious, but she uses her nails to scratch across your face this time.

“fuck!” you yell, and she uses the moment to escape once more.

with a few drops of blood on your face, you get up to go after her again, fueled by the adrenaline and blazing hatred in your system.

she keeps running, looking back to you from over her shoulder, and it’s right at that moment that she runs onto the road, forgetting to check whether there’s any traffic in her haste — and she gets pushed over by an incoming car.

shock hits you briefly, and you contemplate hiding between the trees to leave the scene of the crime until you recognize the car as well as its driver.

jeonghan gets out, and you run over to him, finding him standing by bitna’s body, which is now several meters away from the car due to the crash.

“fucking hell — what just happened? i wasn’t even trying to hit her, she just ran in front of the car out of fucking nowhere—did she do that to your face?”

with your breathing slowing bit by bit, you nod, and you both look down at the body, only to realize she’s still breathing, but her injuries are so bad that she can’t get up, and she’s coughing up blood. hell, it looks like she can hardly even move at all.

the sound of her pained grunts hardly affect you when you take her phone out of her pocket to delete the picture before putting it back again.

“sweetheart.” jeonghan says to you, and you look at each other for a moment. “she knows too much.”

you sigh, turning around to check if there’s any cars coming, but the road is remote and empty, and it’s late at night.

“who’s gonna do it?”

he wordlessly sinks down to one knee, staring down at bitna even when his hand squeezes her throat and the life leaves her eyes. he only closes his eyes when some splatters of the blood she was coughing up hits his cheek, which he wipes away with his other hand.

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience before it’s enough?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

joshua glances at you, seeing your distraught face, and the portion of trust he lost in his best friend, he chooses to find in you.

and so he believes it. he tells himself it was an accident, and does what he’s told.

the moment joshua walks back to get into his car, jeonghan peers at you, the flickering red light reflecting on your tear-streaked face. the emotions you were displaying mere seconds ago are entirely gone, replaced by something numb and indifferent in the blink of an eye.

it’s like looking into a mirror.

as joshua’s in the driver’s seat, jeonghan tells him what to do one last time before the younger of the two drives off, leaving only you and your brother behind.

what happens next is like a blur. jeonghan tells you something about a nearby lake, which is where he takes the body to get rid of it. once he returns, he’s empty-handed, save for the fresh blood on his conscience.

you’re in the driver’s seat, watching him get in beside you, his clothes stained with red spots.

he sits still for a moment, but as soon as you turn your head, he holds your chin and kisses you.

it’s far less gentle than before, more lust than anything, but it’s something you both need right now.

with your forehead leaning against his, you breathe into each other’s mouths. “we gotta go home, hannie. before our parents get back.” you whisper.

all he can do is hum in agreement, kissing you one more time before you start the car.

once you’re home, you park the car out of sight, as it needs to be cleaned and repaired.

you eventually manage to get into jeonghan’s room unseen. he yanks his stained shirt over his head, throwing it into the fireplace to get rid of every piece of evidence he can think of. you immediately go on to wash your hands by the sink.

it’s interesting for you to watch how he behaves at a moment like this — it’s hard to tell whether his thoughts are racing or completely frozen. he moves to the bathroom to scrub the blood off his hands and nails, going at it for several minutes until there’s not a speck of red left.

then he comes walking back, heading straight for the whiskey bottle on top of the coffee table to down two glasses in one go.

“you put up a show for joshua.” he states.

“what do you mean?”

“the crying. it stopped the second you knew he wasn’t paying attention to it anymore.”

kudos to him for being so perceptive. you didn’t think he noticed.

“so?”

he takes a few steps over to you. “i saw it. that moment your expression completely changed… i used to think we were different, in a way. but we’re really not.”

it only makes you shrug your shoulders. “and now? am i no longer a good person to you, little brother?”

jeonghan mimics the teasing in your tone. “i think being a good person is overrated.”

his tone and gaze and grip on your hips is harsher than usual, and as soon as he’s got you pressed against the wall, you realize he’s rock-hard.

“you looked so fucking good doing that. the way you talked to joshua, saying the exact things you needed to say to get him to believe you, the blood on your face—” he mutters, completely lost in his desires now that you’ve made them a reality, “you were perfect. my sweet sister.”

your nails harshly dig into his skin, hot arousal dripping between your legs. you pull your dress of and discard it onto the floor, taking a few steps back to his desk, pulling him with you with your finger at the waistband of his boxers.

“need you in me. please, i’m so fucking wet—”

after laying you back on his desk, he rubs his cock against your entrance, finding you soaking for him, and he has to force himself to keep his composure and not completely fall apart already.

a shameless moan escapes him when he pushes himself inside you, and his pace quickly increases, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples. you wrap your legs around his waist at the sensation, and his warm saliva coats your breasts while he keeps fucking into you.

you don’t think the coil in your stomach has ever built up this fast. all you want is for him to keep fucking you throughout the night, and by the looks of it, he’s far from done with you.

he leaves hickeys all over your upper body, feeling more possessive of you than ever before, and you suck his cock so tightly into your cunt that he wants to stay like this forever.

“let me cum inside you, baby, please. wanna see it drip out of you — oh my god, please, let me have it—”

the sound of his begging turns you even wetter. “yes, yes, cum in me, hannie.”

it’s a mere matter of seconds before you feel him shudder, emptying himself inside you, and he looks down to see drops of his white cum seeping out of your dripping pussy. he watches you rub at your clit before you dip your finger inside, pushing his cum back into you, and his breath visibly hitches in his throat.

his cock has never been hard faster, and he rubs himself at the sight of your pussy, moaning when you begin to finger yourself in front of him, the wet noise ringing through his ears.

“let me fuck you again. wanna fuck you again so bad, baby, look at how wet you are, jesus christ—”

“want it harder this time, hannie.” you nod, pulling him closer to you again, and he’s utterly hypnotized, as if you’re some holy being speaking to someone beneath you.

and as always, he’ll gladly oblige you, so he sheathes himself inside, giving you exactly what you want.

you both lose complete track of time in his room, lost in your own world, waking up the next day to the news that the girl whose body you dumped into the lake is considered missing by the authorities.

it’s two days later when they discover her body, and as you’d hoped, the police appear to believe her death was an unfortunate accident rather than cold-blooded murder.

bitna’s funeral is grim.

it’s more crowded than you anticipated, but the majority of people attending are either family, current classmates or former classmates, you and jeonghan falling into the latter categories. you blend in well with the other attendees.

with your black coats and leather gloves on, you stare at the casket being lowered into the ground.

once the people leaving are out of earshot, the two of you glance at the tombstone. “what a shame. she was young.”

jeonghan nods slowly. “and she made a mistake by trying to meddle with business that wasn’t hers.”

“do you have any regrets? about the things that happened?”

“no. do you?”

“i should, probably. but i don’t.” you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “i have a feeling joshua is gonna lose his shit, though. he’s fragile.”

“you’d be surprised, actually.” he leans toward you, making sure that no one can hear him. “when bitna’s brother died, it was his idea to frame it as suicide.”

“seriously? i thought it was yours.”

“to be fair, i’d come up with the idea already, but i wanted him to be the one to say it. all he needed was me mentioning what the consequences would be — were we to confess what happened. the image of spending a solid part of your life in prison does wonders for some.”

deadpanning a stare, you snort. “you manipulated him into coming up with the suicide so he couldn’t blame you later on.”

a smirk tugs at his lips, yet he tilts his head. “don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“fine, you got me there.”

you both chuckle quietly, after which it’s briefly quiet. shifting your gaze down to the ground, you huff to yourself.

“well, i guess this is who we are when no one can stop us.” you sigh. “somehow always at the scene of the crime.”

“this is who we are when we take care of each other.” he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, rubbing at your clothed skin as he holds you. “you’re my sister. i’ll do anything for you — i want you to know that.”

“i do.” you nod, laying your head down on his shoulder. “i also know you don’t want me to protect you, but… i will. always.”

with a kiss pressed to your temple, he gives you his response to the sentiment.

sure, you and jeonghan may not share the same blood, but you are bound by the secrets you’ve shared and the blood you’ve spilled, and all you can feel for the future is… excitement.

thank u for reading. please let me know if u enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[shiftthemoon]

50 WAYS YOUR LOVER SAYS, "je t'adore, mon amour"

✦ read this and let it be your reminder: love exists for you, too.

before you keep scrolling, let’s play a little game. close your eyes and place your phone down gently—it’ll still be here when you come back. take a deep breath and step into the life waiting for you. imagine them—your lover—holding your hand, leaving little kisses on your forehead, doing all the quiet, beautiful things that whisper “i love you” in ways words never could. picture it vividly, feel it in your chest.

you’re closer than you think. let these words carry you closer still. this is what love feels like when it’s made just for you.

✸ “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

— emily brontë, wuthering heights

1. they trace constellations on your back with their fingertips until you fall asleep, whispering the names of stars like they were named just for you.

2. every morning, they memorize the exact shade of your eyes as sunlight touches them for the first time.

3. when they see a flower, they always pick the one that reminds them of you.

4. they hum songs they wrote in their head about you, forgetting the rest of the world even exists.

5. their hands hold yours like they’re anchoring themselves to the only thing that’s real.

6. they remember how you like your tea or coffee, down to the exact second it needs to steep.

7. they’ll start reading your favorite book, even if they can’t make sense of the metaphors, just to understand what makes your soul hum.

8. they run baths for you after hard days, scattering petals and lighting candles like it’s a ritual for a deity.

9. they defend your name in rooms you’ve never stepped foot in, making sure the world knows how sacred you are.

10. every time they kiss your forehead, they close their eyes, like they’re making a wish.

11. they memorize the cadence of your voice, the way it lilts when you’re excited or drifts when you’re tired.

12. they notice the tiny details no one else sees—the way your nose wrinkles when you think or how your foot taps to an invisible rhythm.

13. when you feel invisible, they find a way to make you shine.

14. they make plans for the future and always say “we” instead of “I.”

15. they look at you like they’ve just found a piece of eternity tucked away in the mundane.

16. they remember the things you’ve forgotten—like where you put your favorite sweater or what your dream was three weeks ago.

17. they’ve written your name in the margins of their notebooks, just to feel closer to you when you’re not around.

18. they tuck blankets around you when you fall asleep on the couch, careful not to wake you.

19. they call you by nicknames you didn’t even know you needed, sweet and soft like poetry only they can write.

20. they let you win arguments sometimes, just because giving you a kiss after is more satisfying than proving their point.

21. when they laugh, it sounds like music only you get to hear.

22. they’ve memorized the way you like your pillow fluffed and always fix it before you lay down.

23. when you’re sad, they remind you of all the reasons the universe is lucky to hold you.

24. they press their forehead against yours, quiet and gentle, like they’re saying “i’m here” without words.

25. they notice the little ways you show love—your touch, your words, your silences—and treasure each one.

26. they’ve started carrying your favorite snack in their bag, just in case you need it.

27. they touch the small of your back as if grounding you to this moment, this place, this love.

28. they dream of you when they’re awake, turning every thought into a love letter.

29. they’ve memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat and swear it’s their favorite song.

30. they walk on the outside of the sidewalk, shielding you from passing cars like you’re made of glass.

31. they press kisses to your wrist, your temple, your shoulder—anywhere their lips can reach.

32. when they see something beautiful, their first thought is to share it with you.

33. they hold space for your silence, knowing it’s just as important as your words.

34. they learn your love language, even if it feels foreign to them, and speak it fluently.

35. they let you wear their clothes, claiming you make them look better anyway. (you do!)

36. they find ways to bring your name into conversations, just to say it out loud.

37. they never forget the sound of your laugh, even when the world gets too loud.

38. they hold your face like it’s the answer to every question they’ve ever asked.

39. they light candles during thunderstorms because they know the flicker calms you.

40. they kiss your scars and call them the roadmap to your soul.

41. they tell you their secrets, the ones even they are scared of, because they trust you with their heart.

42. they leave notes in your bag, on your mirror, in your books—little pieces of love tucked away for you to find later.

43. they say your name like it’s their favorite word.

44. they teach themselves your favorite song on a musical instrument, even if they don’t know how to play.

45. they dance with you in the kitchen.

46. they stay up late just to talk to you about the things that matter to you.

47. they carve your initials into the soft bark of their heart, promising to carry you with them always.

48. they hold your hand in crowded spaces, making sure you feel safe in the chaos.

49. they memorize the way you breathe when you’re asleep, every inhale a symphony.

50. they love you not just in the grand gestures, but in the quiet, everyday moments—the ones where love doesn’t need to be spoken to be felt.

𖦹࣪˖ shift with the faith that someone, somewhere, is ‘waiting’ to love you this fiercely. you are worth every ounce of it. ׄ ִֶָ.

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can���t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

[moonstruckme]

hi honey! this is quite a personal ask and it's a very touchy subject so if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine!

I recently found out I'm infertile and won't be able to have biological children- I would love it if you wrote something with poly!marauders comforting a reader whose always wanted biological children but finds out she's infertile?

no pressure because this is a sensitive topic- but it would mean the world if you do x

Hi lovely, I'm so sorry about how jarring that must be for you. Thanks for your request <3

cw: grief related to infertility

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 626 words

You hadn’t cried when you found out. It had been a slow, seeping revelation. A shock you don’t know how to get past. So it comes as a surprise when, after sharing the news with your boyfriends, tears spill from your eyes. 

Sirius moves first, as he often does, his arms wrapping tight around your middle. “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling you to his chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

You don’t know if it’s a loss for him the way it is for you; you never really got around to talking about it, and now it’s a moot point. You appreciate the sentiment anyway. Remus’ hand has been on your knee since you’d sat them down on the couch, a comfort for whatever difficult conversation he sensed was coming, but he’s still now, in shock as you have been. On Sirius’ other side, you hear a dismayed breath go out of James. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you whimper. Sirius doubles down on the comfort, arms a vice and mushing kiss after heavy kiss into your hair while you weep. 

“Hey,” says James, gently. His hand comes to rest on your back, big enough to touch both shoulder blades. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s going to be okay.” 

“Jamie,” Remus murmurs. 

“It is, lovely. If you really want it, we’ll figure something out.” 

“But we don’t need to do that today.” Remus’ tone is at once stern and gentle. His pinkie makes a couple of short strokes over your leg. “I know how much it meant to you to have kids on your own, dovey,” he says, softer. “I’m sorry.” 

James sounds wounded. “I only meant that we’re with you. Or that we’re here for you, you know. Whatever you need.” 

You pick your head up from Sirius’ chest. Sirius allows it, though by the way his hands tighten on you only just, so that you can give James a watery smile. 

“I know,” you tell him. And you do. It’ll all be alright in the end is the motto James lives by; whatever the opposite of a defeatist is, your sweetheart boyfriend is that all over. But you only want to be sad right now. It’s a new sort of mourning for you, mourning a future you’ve never known and now you can’t have. “It’s okay, I get it.” 

James’ expression is already creased with sympathy, but at your teary eyes he starts to look like he may cry, too. “I love you,” he says, squeezing your shoulder softly. “We’ve got you, you know that.” 

You nod, because you do. You feel it like a pleasant weight right now, just in the center of your hurt. 

Sirius has begun swaying you gently, his lips pressed to your head like he plans simply to leave them there. “What do you want to do, sweetness? Just for now, what do you need?” 

You try to clear your throat, but your voice still comes out fractured. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay to just be sad,” says Remus. His voice has dropped to a soothing timbre, like logs crackling in a fireplace or the sea shushing over rock. “If you want to just stay here for a while, or cry some more, that’s perfectly alright.” 

His understanding draws another sob out of you, your face going back to Sirius’ chest as you give into grief. 

“Oh, my love.” Sirius hugs you even tighter, and then a second pair of arms comes around you, James hugging you both. Remus’ touch moves up your leg as you feel the couch dip closer to you, his lips pressing to the side of your head a moment later. You feel engulfed by love and caring. “I’m sorry, lovely,” Sirius whispers against your hairline. “We’ve got you.” 

[limethefirst]

Now that reader and maria has an interaction imagine if Reader dies instead of maria? Like they saved her and dies in the process? Idk if they still will do the whole destroy the world thing or not but it would be cool tho (like dr. Gerald start to see reader as his own grandchild)

Die with a Smile

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader x Maria Robotnik (platonic)

warnings: Sonic 3 spoilers, character death

summary: while trying to escape the GUN Base you and Maria are almost caught by the guards, realizing you won’t make it

a/n: I think if Maria survived she wouldn’t want to destroy the world, nor would Gerald (to an extent cause Maria wouldn’t want him to do that) but he would definitely want some type of revenge, same with Shadow but we won’t go that far into it, it’ll be just the basics of what happened that day you died instead, tysm for the request I’m not really good at writing angst but I tried🥲

Quiet. The day started off quiet. Although you sensed something was off, maybe it was the feeling of urgency you felt or the feeling that you should cherish these next hours to come.

Whatever it was you brushed it off, but thinking back on it now, you should’ve paid attention to the signs.

You, Maria and Shadow all sat on the floor, your faces fixed on the small television that Maria had in her room, it played a random movie that you weren’t too interested in. Suddenly you heard an alarm blaring, it seemed like the other heard it to as they both looked towards each other then to you.

“What’s going on?” Maria shouted, expression extremely worried. You shook your head, your hands covering your ears trying to block out the loud noise.

As you three sat there confused, the door to Maria’s room opened “Kids! We have to go!” Dr Gerald yelled at you three, ushering you each out and pointing down the corridor. Shadow held onto your left hand as Maria held onto your right and her grandfathers left.

The four of you ran as fast as you could, Maria still trying to find out what was wrong but her pleads for answers falling onto deaf ears.

As you ran, you took a quick glance, noticing the amount of guards running after you, their guns raised, ready to shoot down children.

Your grip on Shadows hand tightened, you didn’t want to die, you wanted to live with your friends; you were so scared, the fact that not only you would have to suffer this fate but also your friends.

After a bit of running you’d almost made it out, you saw the exit was near, but then you’d heard it, “Don’t shoot, they’re kids!” You turned back and saw it, the gun aiming at you guys, but then it was pushed. It was pushed towards one of the radioactive containers that you knew was unstable.

Things were racing through your mind, the hope that maybe you would all survive, the dread that dawned as you realized you wouldn’t, but maybe, at least you could ensure your friends would survive.

Before the others noticed what was happening, you pushed Shadow behind you, and then you turned your body and hugged Maria, using yourself as a shield.

And then, you smiled. It was short and small, but you smiled. You made sure both Maria and Shadow were covered by you, the majority of the blast only attacking you.

They say when you die your brain replays your best memories for the next 7 minutes. You’d always wondered if that was true, you guess now you’d really find out. You hope it’s true though, because you just wanted to see your friends one last time.

Your body was getting colder, the three no longer running for the exit, instead they stood there shocked, seeing what you’d become.

Maria was the first to try and wake you, her shoulders shaking, she was crying. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Gerald was next to get down, he was checking for any signs of life, there was nothing.

Then there was Shadow, he stood there unsure what to do, before he fell to his knees. His eyes were wide as he just stared, seeing how even in death you could smile, it was so bitter for him.

The guards didn’t give them time to mourn though, as they dragged the three of them away, putting cuffs on Maria and Gerald. Shadow was treated harsher, he screamed your name a few times as they used a taser to forcefully push him into his container.

He tried to get a look at you, he tried to find Maria and Gerald but he just couldn’t, they took you from them, and now they were going to let you lay there all alone. Any of the warmth your body had was gone.

It was no longer a quiet day, it became a day full of sorrow and despair. A day that changed the lives of people, but one thing was set in stone. That you would be avenged one day, no matter how long it would take.

[kdyq]

Hi, I got to know your blog recently and I loved your writing, your story of Ambessa x pregnant reader gave me an idea. What do you think of a modern au (or in the series setting if you prefer) Ambessa solo mom. Where she meets the reader and sees that the relationship between the two is getting more serious and decides to introduce formally to her children, I imagine them younger but if you want with them older it would be great too!! ❤️

A piece of her world.

AU! Milf!Ambessa x Fem!reader

context: You and Ambessa meet at a art gallery and a month later Ambessa wants the relationship to deepen by introducing you to her two kids Kino and Mel at dinner.

The first time you met Ambessa she gave off an effortlessly commanding presence drew attention the moment she entered the room. It was at a small art gallery downtown where you’d been helping a friend organize an opening. She was hard to miss her tall regal figure dressed in a tailored dark cherry red suit her sharp gaze sweeping the room as though sizing up a battlefield. What started as a simple conversation over drinks turned into dinner dates late night talks and an undeniably connection.

Months later you found yourself deeply in love with the woman who somehow balanced happiness and tenderness with ease. Still there was a part of her life she’d carefully kept at arm’s length her children.

She had spoken of them occasionally Kino her thoughtful and bookish eldest, and Mel her sarcastic and optimistic youngest. But she kept that part of her life separate not out of secrecy. But out of a deep sense of protection it doesn’t mean she didn’t trust you it’s just a motherly instinct of hers.

But it all changed one crisp Saturday morning when she invited you over for dinner.

“I think it’s time you met my children ”she said over the phone with a steady tone.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure” she replied. “You’ve become important to me and I think they need to see that.”

You smiled touched by her words. “I’d love to meet them.”

When you arrived at Ambessa’s house it was every bit as grand as you’d imagined modern and elegant with high ceilings grand decor and wide windows that let sunlight flood the space.

Ambessa greeted you at the door dressed casually for once in a fitted sweater and dark jeans. She looked calm but the slight tension in her posture betrayed her nerves.

“You’re nervous” you teased gently stepping inside.

She huffed crossing her arms. “I’m not nervous.”

“Liar” you said with a smile leaning up to kiss her cheek. “It’ll be fine.”

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hallway and two figures stepped into the room. Kino appeared first tall and composed at eighteen with a quiet confidence that made him seem older than his years.

His dark locks in a back ponytail his brown eyes landed on you. He paused for a moment studying you in a way that felt both cautious and intrigued.

“You must be [Your Name] Kino said his tone even but polite as if he were testing the waters.

“I am” you replied matching his calm energy with a warm smile.

“And you must be Kino.”

He nodded a flicker of amusement crossing his face as his lips went into a faint smirk. “Mama talks about you. A lot.”

“Does she?” You glanced at Ambessa who stood just behind him arms crossed and exuding her usual composed demeanor.

But there was a hint of softness in her expression a subtle pride as she observed the interaction. “Good things I hope?”

“She said you’re smart and funny” Kino replied his tone teasing just enough to make you smile.

Before you could respond a smaller figure darted into the room behind him. Mel at fifteen moved with a youthful energy that contrasted sharply with her brother’s calm demeanor. Though she was only a few inches shorter than Kino her presence was just as commanding her green eyes flicking between you and her mother before finally settling on you.

“So” Mel said leaning casually against the doorway with a playful smirk “you’re the one who’s been stealing all of Mom’s attention.”

“That’s me” you said with a light laugh your gaze meeting hers. “I hope that’s not a problem.”

Mel tilted her head studying you with an intensity that reminded you of Ambessa though hers had a mischievous edge. “We’ll see.”

Kino groaned rolling his eyes as he turned to his sister. “Mel seriously can you not?”

“What?” Mel shrugged her smirk growing. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re gonna scaring them off” Kino cut her off with a sigh giving you a look that said this was a regular occurrence.

Mel opened her mouth to make a comeback but Ambessa’s voice cut through the playful tension like a blade. “Enough Mel.”

Mel held up her hands in mock surrender though the mischievous twinkle in her eye remained.

Before the back and forth could escalate even more Kino turned back to you and gestured toward the living room. “Come on” he said his voice quieter now almost shy.

“I want to show you something. Mom told me you like books and I’ve been putting together a library.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise genuinely touched by the offer. “I’d love to see it.”

As he led you out of the room Mel lingered behind with Ambessa. She crossed her arms her smirk softening as she glanced at her mother. “She’s better than the last one” she muttered under her breath.

Ambessa raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Mel.”

“What? I’m just saying.”

From the doorway Ambessa watched it all unfold with a quiet intensity. Her expression softened as she observed how naturally you fit into her world. The way Kino opened up to you the ease with which you handled Mel’s sarcasm it all struck a chord deep within her. For someone so fiercely protective of her family seeing this dynamic felt like a rare moment of peace as if the pieces of her life were finally aligning.

You glanced back at her catching her eye as Kino chatted excitedly about his favorite books. She gave you a small nod In her way of saying she was glad you were here.

Ambessa watched it all unfold with a quiet intensity her expression softening as she saw how naturally you fit into her world.

After dinner you and Ambessa retreated to the back patio the stars glittering above as the cool night air wrapped around you. She poured two glasses of Syrah red wine her usual strong composure giving way to something more vulnerable.

“You were amazing with them” she said her voice low but full of emotion.

“They’re incredible kids” you replied leaning into her side. “You’ve done an amazing job with them.”

She exhaled softly her arm wrapping around your shoulders. “It hasn’t been easy ”she admitted.

“Especially after their father went away. But they’re my world.”

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore ” you said your voice gentle but firm.

Ambessa looked at you her eyes searching yours. For a moment you saw the vulnerability she so rarely let show the weight of years spent carrying the burden of being both mother and protector.

“I know”she said softly her hand brushing against your cheek. “And I’m glad it’s you.”

You stayed like that for a long time wrapped in each other’s warmth as the future stretched out before you and filled with endless possibilities.

“THE END”

AN/ TYSM @baesye for requesting this i hope I brought your vision to life. I never really thought about doing an AU ambessa x fem reader story but in the near future I will definitely make more stories in a AU once again tysm 🙏🏾🙌🏾.

+ I’m running out of photos for Ambessa so ima have to reuse them and I can’t draw for shit so I gotta do what a what girl gotta do 😭🤷🏾‍♀️.

[exocaliii]

❦︎ And You Look Half Dead Half The Time (nsfw)

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance that might finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, making-out, fingering + cunnilingus (r! receiving), bathroom sex, one use of Y/N even though I tried my best to avoid it lol, extreme jealousy/possessiveness, no-eul is not playing about her girl in this one LOL

A/N: finally reached the romance stuff in this one but there's still some build-up of course, hope you all enjoy and as always, i appreciate any type of feedback or comments, they make the writing worth it!! :D this is so self indulgent omg

—

When the platform begins to spin, you feel a firm grip on your hand, looking up to find Se-mi already staring at you with a calm expression on her face.

“Stick with me.” 

You nod, and before you’re able to check on Min-su, you’re nearly thrown off your feet by the sudden stop of the surface you’re on. 

“10 players.” 

The boom of the announcer clears your senses, and as Thanos and Nam-gyu laugh and spin, you see another group of five waving their hands for more people. You shout at the loudest volume you’ve used since arriving here for them to come over, and with a tight grip on Se-mi’s hand, you drag her to the open room right across the arena. Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Min-su (who you can now see was hiding behind Se-mi) follow right along, and, thank goodness, the other team of 5 do the same. 

“Are you okay?” You don’t respond to Se-mi's question because the answer should be obvious with the way you’re trembling, but she only nods in understanding. “Just stay calm, it’ll be fine.” You want to believe her, you truly do, but you see Min-su’s fear, and in that moment, you accept that this may be the game that kills you. 

The lock clicks open.

Your group of ten steps out, stepping over the blood of those who lost the last round.

You want to retch, but you stay focused and get back on the platform. 

With your hand in Se-mi’s, you block out the happy singing of Thanos and Nam-gyu, opting instead to pat Min-su’s back when you see him basically shaking like a leaf. He jumps, but turns to you with a grateful look in his eye. You pray that he lives, because someone like him should not die in a cold place like this.

“4 players.”

Your heart drops. Thanos glances back and forth between the three of you as Nam-gyu stands at his side. Your heart feels heavy in your chest, and your legs are stiff, ready to run. His eyes stop on Min-su, and you know what’s about to happen.

“You-”

“I’ll go.” 

Se-mi barely has a chance to react before you rip your hand from hers and run to find another group. Somewhere in the bustle of the crowd, you swear you hear her call your name, but you’re too locked onto three men in the distance. They’re already in the room, but they’re calling for a fourth person. Fear threatens to strangle you as you run over, the countdown playing loud in the overhead speaker. Their eyes are desperate, arms open to beckon you over to save both your life and theirs.

 

At the last second, you basically ram into one of the men as you barrel into the room, one of them slamming it shut behind you not even a second before the lock clicks. No one speaks as shots ring out from outside the room, and you begin to come to terms with your act of sacrifice for someone you had just met yesterday. 

Fuck, what were you thinking? Are you in this to win or not?

The lock clicks open, and you all step outside. There’s even more fresh blood on the ground, blood that you ignore as your eyes search the arena for your old group. 

“Y/N!”

You spin fast enough to snap your neck at the sound of her voice, and Se-mi runs over to you followed by the rest of the group. You think she’s about to hug you but she stops just short of it, arms lowering back to her side awkwardly before she resigns to grabbing you by the shoulders instead. For a second, you stare at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say.

“Oh shit, that was too cool girl.” Thano’s voice ruins the moment, but before you all begin heading back to the platform, you hear a soft voice from behind Se-mi.

“Thank you.” 

Min-su meekly looks at you with obvious guilt, and Se-mi drops her hands from your shoulders to take your hand as you all walk back towards the center. It’s comforting to have her hand in yours again (especially after you almost died letting go of it).

“It’s fine, I already saw the other group before leaving.” Obvious lie, but he didn’t need to know that. 

As you all begin to spin again, Se-mi gives your hand a short squeeze before looking down at you with a gentle smile that, as always, almost looks like a smirk.

“I was right about you.” You chuckle at this and turn away to hide your reddened face, but of course, the moment doesn’t last very long. 

“3 players.”

The three of you barely spare a glance at Thanos and Nam-gyu before you grab each other’s hands and run off, hearing the rapper scream a curse at your betrayal. You almost want to laugh, but you’re too focused on holding onto Se-mi and Min-su’s hands for dear life as you run towards one of the few open rooms still available. 

They’re filling up too quickly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see two other groups scrambling towards the one room you have your sights set on. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you come to the horrifying realization that groups of three might be too small to fit everyone that was still alive, even if they were all paired up. The thought makes your legs move that much faster, but just as you’re about to reach your safe haven, a body collides with yours and sends you flying towards the floor. 

10 seconds left.

“Min-su?!” He was on your left, but where is he?

7 seconds left.

“Get up, get inside the room!” Se-mi. You’re pretty sure it’s her rough hands that grab your sweater and pull you up.

5 seconds left.

“Where is he?! Min-su!” You stumble over your feet, your mind reeling as you’re bouncing back and forth between trying to find him and trying to follow Se-mi into the room.

3 seconds left.

“Wait! Wait, please help me!” He’s half on the ground, half fighting against a man trying to get up in front of him to enter a room to your right. You’re already in yours, and an arm wrapped tight around your waist prevents you from running out to save his life once again. 

1 second left.

“Let go! Min-su!” 

The buzzer sounds right as the door slams shut in your face.

The lock clicks shut.

Somewhere outside, you hear gunfire and the desperate cries of men and women who failed. 

For a second, you think you can hear him begging for his life, but then a single shot rings out and his fate is sealed.

—

Somewhere in the haze of emotions, you continue to grasp onto her arm like a lifeline. Your head rings, and you don’t even hear the announcer’s call for each of the next two rounds. It’s Se-mi who makes sure you’re right next to her the entire time, no matter which group you join or which room you scramble into. She doesn’t bother to ask if you’re okay (because it is extremely obvious this time, with tear tracks on your cheeks and shallow eyes staring into the distance), but her firm hold on you still shows her underlying care. That, and the slight shake of her body reminds you that despite her previous bravado and confidence, she’s still human just like you. 

When the game ends, you step over the blood of the losers to make it back to the main room (you wonder if you had stepped on Min-su’s as well - the thought of it makes you sick to your stomach). 

Thanos greets the two of you with excitement even after you left him and Nam-gyu in the dust, but you don’t even have it in you to entertain his antics now. Your head was pounding, and the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball on the spot was Se-mi’s arm around your shoulders; she was holding onto you like you would curl up and die if she let go, which you might. 

When you both settle into her bed, you really begin to feel the weight of his absence. 

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that,” she says, her voice quiet as if you were a deer about to sprint away. “...You wouldn’t have made it in time-”

“I know.” You’re curt, almost rude, and you feel bad immediately for your outburst. It wasn’t her fault, you reminded yourself. It wasn’t her fault that your first selfless moment in this hellhole means nothing now. “I… I’m sorry. You saved my life. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Her hand caresses yours, soothing you into finally allowing your tense body to relax.

Something about her gentle demeanor coaxes out a more peaceful side in you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. You’re pleasantly surprised at her lack of resistance, and something in your gut burns when she leans her head right back on yours. 

For a second, you think about No-eul and feel a strange amount of guilt creeping up on you, but Se-mi changes her grip on your hand slightly to interlace your fingers and it all goes away. You owe nothing to her. Companionship isn’t something she should bar you from looking for when you face death at her hands everyday now. 

What’s so wrong with finding your own comfort in the beautiful, kind, and unexpectedly soft woman sitting next to you? 

—

350 million won. 

It’s enough for those smugglers, enough for her, and so, it’s enough for you to change your vote. 

When red LEDs light up your face and you begin exchanging your blue patch for a red one, you feel the weight of the entire situation crashing down on you. 

You chose life this time. From now on, if you die, it won’t be of your own volition anymore. This fact disturbs you greatly, so you’re quick in pushing through the crowd to get right back to Se-mi’s side. You’re glad she chose to live too. If you made it out of here, you wouldn’t want to lose contact with her. Trauma bonds are pretty strong apparently. 

—

When two groups of men start walking out of the bathrooms covered in blood and money begins to fill the pig again, you shuffle a bit closer to Se-mi, and her grip on your hand tightens. 

Supposedly it was a brawl, and from the frantic head counts of both sides, the O’s had lost one extra man. The sight of a bloody Nam-gyu shuffling onto Thano’s bed, shaking from the drugs with a frantic, bloodthirsty look in his eyes made your stomach drop. Now, there was no idiotic rapper to take hold of his leash, and you were sure he would want to kill you two after you turned your backs on him twice. 

The cold steel of the fork you took from dinner provided a comforting weight inside your pocket. 

“Se-mi.” She turns towards you.

“Yeah?”

“Sleep on this side tonight, okay?” Your grip on her arm is tight and you know you must look completely shaken by now, but she still gives her signature confident smirk.

“Sure, but you better make it worth my while.”

Your face goes red and you scoff, making her chuckle. God, you’re glad you have someone like this by your side.

—

When the screams begin, you immediately dig into your pocket and pull out your makeshift weapon. You want to call out for her, but you’re terrified that if you make a single noise, you and her will be swarmed by the wolves tearing apart the people all around you. 

Where the fuck are the guards?! No, who are you kidding, of course they would sit by and let you kill each other. Probably the highlight of their night. Under the fear, you feel so much anger and pain at the situation that you can barely focus.  

No-eul’s face flashes in your mind once again but now, you’re beginning to struggle to differentiate her from the other murderers all around you. 

No, no, no. You can’t think that way. She’s not like any of them.

“You traitor bitch!” You turn your head down to look for the familiar voice, and to your utter horror, Nam-gyu is standing right below you. Across from him (and cornered against the wall) is Se-mi. Even with the strobing lights, you can see the intense fear under her angry expression. “I’m gonna fucking gut you!”

When he charges at her, you make one of the easiest choices of your entire life and roll off the side of the bunk. 

You nearly miss your landing, but your fork doesn’t and his scream of pain reveals that instantly. You take both him and yourself to the ground, but your heart is racing and you can still feel him bucking from beneath you, so you don’t get a chance to breathe before yanking the fork out of his shoulder and slamming it back down into the side of his neck. The feeling of it sinking it and spraying your hand with hot blood is sickening beyond belief, but you block out everything except the feeling of his squirming beneath you and raise the metal above your head again. 

You aren’t sure how many times you bring it down on him, but a body colliding into yours knocks you out of your spiral.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Se-mi’s voice barely comprehends in your ears, but you can feel her arms around you clearly. “He’s dead, it’s okay, we’re okay.” Her hand rubs your back soothingly, and only then do you realize there are tears pouring down your cheeks.

Your chest heaves as you openly sob, clinging to her like a lifeline and unintentionally smearing the back of her sweater with Nam-gyu’s blood. You shut out everything but her voice, and even when the guards enter and fire into the air, you don’t find yourself flinching once, simply dropping to the floor still in her arms.

—

When some of the players gun down all the guards in the room, you hide in the corner with Se-mi (who was still whispering comforting words into your ears). You watch as players 120 and 456 take center stage in the room, shutting down the last bits of the riot and forcing the one square-mask guard onto his knees. They call for others to join them, others with military experience or even those with the faintest idea of how to use a gun. 

Of course, you had military experience right alongside No-eul, but the ache in your body and the tight grip Se-mi has on you keeps you from getting up. Your head pounds and spins as your eyes begin trailing around the slaughterhouse of a room. 

Dead people in green, dead people in pink. Your eyes linger on the guards and their triangle-masks, immediately recalling the shape No-eul had on hers. 

What if…

No.

The moment the team of rebels leaves, you go to get up but a tight grip on your forearm drags you right back down. 

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Her eyes are confused but her voice is just as gentle as it’s been the entire time she sat there combing her fingers through your hair and whispering about how brave you were and how thankful she was. “Talk to me please, what’s wrong?”

“I just need to check something, that’s all.” She doesn’t look satisfied, but Se-mi lets you get up after you give her a brisk hug and a strained smile. 

With a shaky breath, you begin to make your rounds. You can feel the eyes on you as you walk up the first guard and pull off their mask, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at the lack of familiarity in their dead eyes. 

With each one, you grow more and more tense, steeling yourself for the possibility of seeing No-eul’s empty, dead eyes staring back at you. 

It would be the thing that kills you. The loss of your reason to fight in the first place. 

Kneeling down next to the final guard, you can barely breathe as your fingers brush against the edge of their mask. Your hands are shaking so bad and you curse yourself for your sudden lack of strength. You would die if it was her. You would pull that fork out of Nam-gyu’s neck and jam it in your own if it was her. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you tug it off and let it clatter to the side. Your breathing slows when you peek and immediately recognize the face as belonging to a younger man’s, not your No-eul. 

Please God, give me this one thing and let her live. Let us leave with my blood money and never come back.

—

You can’t even feel joy or disappointment when the rebellion inevitably ends in a whimper. 

456 is dragged in and from a quick glance around the room, you see that 001 and 390 are missing as well. 120 and 388 sit dejectedly not too far away from you, and you can’t help but feel for them; they were people, far stronger than you, that failed to be the heroes. You can’t judge them, you never even considered fighting alongside these brave people in the first place. 

Now that everything has calmed down again and lights-out happens like every other night and not the bloodbath that ensued earlier, you’re far more aware of the sticky feeling of blood on your skin. Your sweater even feels slightly heavier, the entire front of it stained with deep red fluid.

“I-I need to wash this off.” Se-mi, who was almost drifting off next to you, shoots awake and gets up right behind you.

“I’ll come with you.” It’s an unspoken fact that she definitely would, but you’re still happy at the confirmation. 

In the haze of everything that’s occurred, you completely forget that No-eul has been the only reason you’ve been able to get into the bathroom these days, and the only reason she lets you in is because you’re you. So, when you call out and the door opens as usual, you’re confused at her stiff posture. However, after a weird awkward silence, she steps aside to let both you and Se-mi in, almost slamming the door behind you two. 

—

No-eul’s eyes trail you two as you enter the bathroom together, and she can barely control herself from charging in there and kicking 380 out altogether; she had warned you about people like her, so what were you still doing clinging to her side like that? Moreover, seeing the blood practically covering your entire front was like a gut punch. 

She should’ve been there. She should’ve blown the heads off of whoever did that to you. She’s been careless, and she understands that now.

The worst she felt was during the Mingle game. Each time she had been sent in, her breath would hitch and she would hesitate for a few seconds at the entrance, eyes scanning the wide open area for any signs of you. Every single time she failed to spot the number 037 on the clothes of those she shot, a weight would be lifted off of her shoulders. 

After the final round, the room doors had opened just before she was able to leave through the soldier’s door. She takes the chance to search for your kind face, and instead is faced with the sight of you practically hanging off of 380, a lost, soulless look in your eyes. Pain for your sadness mixes with some other ugly emotion, and for a second, she lets herself imagine how your expression would change if she sent a bullet through 380’s heart. 

Would you cry out for that woman, or would you call No-eul’s name out of instinct, like a lost animal begging for comfort?

In the end, she simply leaves with her fellow soldiers, silently cursing herself for such a violent thought. 

—

As you scrub the blood off your face, neck, and hands, you do your best to not let your gaze drift back over to Se-mi. She finishes cleaning up long before you, and you can feel her eyes on you as you scrub away. But no matter how hard you seem to scratch at your hands, the faint red tint just won’t come out. Your breathing grows heavy, and you begin to rub at it harder with the soap. 

Your hands are still red.

The blood from his neck covers your hands, the sounds, the sounds-

“That’s good enough,” a soft voice sounds from beside you, gently taking your hands in hers as you shake.

“No, no, there’s still blood, I-, there’s still…” You turn your hands this way and that, examining them and the red tint you can’t seem to get rid of.

“It’s not blood, you’ve just been rubbing too hard…” She shushes you gently and her thumbs begin tracing circles on your raw palms. “I’m sorry you had to do that, I really am.”

You can only shake your head and press your face in the crook of her neck. It’s a familiar position, one you were in only last night but with a completely different woman. She’s just as soft as No-eul, but she doesn’t wrap her arms around your body and pull you close. Instead, her fingers find the zipper of your bloodied sweater and gently begin to pull it down. The motion makes you back away a little, and she lets your sweater fall to the ground after tugging it off you. 

It’s freeing without the weight of all that blood on you, and your heart swells when she takes off her own jacket to put it on you. This is the kind of care you rarely find yourself receiving, and whenever you did, it was usually by the hand of only one other person. You would have never expected the cocky, confident girl you met two days ago would become this important to you. 

You were right about her. Se-mi was the ever genuine, ever caring woman you hoped she was after your first real conversation together, and you wonder if the world finally decided to go easy on you for once by sending you a beacon of strength in the middle of this hellhole. 

“Thank you, Se-mi,” you breathe out, the feeling of her fingertips grazing the skin of your arms still present long after her hands have dropped back to her side.

She doesn’t respond. Her gaze is still heavy on you, but this time, you hold eye contact and let yourself drown in her eyes. For a split second, you’re sure you see them dart down to your lips, and you think she might just eat you alive with the way she’s examining you.

In an act that surprises even yourself, it’s you who leans forward and presses your lips against hers. Cliche fireworks don’t go off, but the second she reciprocates by grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, you feel the tension between you two finally reach a high point, and it’s euphoric.

You hold each other with pure, unadulterated desire as one of her hands travel down to your waist, pulling you in. The kiss deepens and somewhere in the back of your mind, you think of No-eul. She was right outside that door, what if you were caught?

What the hell are you thinking about right now?

“You’re beautiful, so perfect,” she whispers, and her words make your heart beat that much faster. “My brave girl.” Se-mi breaks the kiss to press her lips against your neck now instead, drawing a moan from deep in your throat. She’s still holding onto you like her life depends on it. 

Unfortunately, your mind is still whirling and you have to remind yourself once again that you owe No-eul absolutely nothing. She shouldn’t and wouldn’t be angry over you finding someone to love, who loved you in a place like this. Is it wrong to search for comfort when you’re so sure you might die tomorrow? Especially from someone like Se-mi, who has done nothing but protect you and care for you.

Your hands tangle in her hair as she slides a hand beneath your shirt-

“Player 380.”

You spin around as the door slams open, a gruff voice making you jump apart from Se-mi. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, but you do, especially when you can feel No-eul’s eyes trailing up and down your disheveled form, and you know she knows exactly what happened here.

“Get back to the room.” You look down to see her revolver gripped tightly in her hand, as if she’s fighting the urge to lift it.

“Just give us a couple more-”

“Now.” She practically growls out that last word, and you can hear a click in the silent bathroom as she loads her revolver at her side. 

Se-mi is brave, but she’s still smart enough to realize that she’s being threatened and would not win a fight against the taller woman with a loaded gun. WIth her head held high, she takes your hand and begins walking around the guard, but No-eul steps in her way and shakes her head.

“037 stays.” You all pause, and Se-mi grips your hand tighter.

“What? What the fuck are you on about? Just let us go back to the room-”

“She stays. Now get out before I make you.” No-eul takes a step forward, hand raising to point the barrel of the gun in Se-mi’s face. 

It’s difficult to hold herself back when she’s this close to doing what she wants with this random woman who’s begun impeaching on her world. The barrier holding you and No-eul together, apart from everyone else, has been disrupted, and she begins to wonder if you’ll actually hate her if she pulls the trigger now. She wants to, especially hearing you fucking moan for this woman.

Where else has she touched you? 

Her trigger finger twitches. 

“It’s okay, Se-mi,” you whisper, breaking your gaze from No-eul to look over at her. 

First name basis? You really want her to kill this woman.

“Just go, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Se-mi looks at you, confusion apparent in her features, but your face is perfectly calm and even though that disturbs her a little, she accepts it. She’ll trust you to stay alive with this psycho.

“Okay, just call out for me if you need anything.” No-eul scoffs at this, earning a glare from Se-mi before she walks out the bathroom. She spares you one final glance over her shoulder, and with a nod from you, she exits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!” You’re practically burning with anger at her behavior, but No-eul ignores your outburst and walks over to the door, turning the latch to lock it before turning back around to look at you. “You think ‘cause you have that mask on you can just go around pointing your gun at everyone?!”

“And what the hell were you doing?” She pulls her mask off, throwing it to the floor before pulling down her face covering. Now, you can actually see the anger simmering beneath her eyes, an accusatory look on her face as she steps closer. “Were you planning on having sex with her or something? This stranger you just met?”

Your face begins to burn for a different reason now.

“That’s… that’s none of your business. I’m a grown woman, I can decide what I want to do or not do.” Your voice is far too unsure and she laughs sarcastically. Running a hand through her sweaty hair, she approaches to stand right in front of you. Your breathing slows as her eyes trail down your face, locking onto the number 380 right above your heart. Her lips curl into a frown and she grabs Se-mi’s sweater, looking like she wanted to burn a hole through the number on your chest. 

To her, it’s a reminder of her failure to protect you as she swore she always would, and now, in the wake of this failure, another person has come along and threatened to take her place - a place in your life she would kill anyone to keep. 

“Take this off,” she breathes out. The air is tense, and you almost want to deny her just to see what she would do, but fuck, she almost looks genuinely hurt and you can’t say no now. 

With your eyes still locked onto hers, you slowly pull the sweater off and let it drop to the ground at your feet. Her eyes are still pinned to your chest, but now you’re so close that you can feel her soft breathing on your face. You swallow harshly and press your face against her shoulder, bunching up her pink tracksuit in your hands as you pull her closer. The feeling of her so close again kills all the tension in your shoulders. This is the safest you’ve felt in 24 hours, and it’s in the arms of a woman who’s been killing people like you the entire time. 

You’re almost a bit ashamed, but what’s wrong with being a bit selfish for once?

You’re shaking in her arms when she pulls back slightly to cup your wet cheeks in her hands. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying again, but now, she’s looking down at your glassy eyes and swollen lips with so much intensity that you forget why you were crying in the first place. Her thumb swipes a tear off your cheek before she leans down, lips brushing against yours. 

“My beautiful girl.”

Finally, nine years after the day you met, she presses her lips against yours and claims you as hers. Faintly, you feel your back collide with the wall behind you as her tongue slips in your mouth. You’re holding onto her suit for dear life as she practically devours you, and you wonder how you were ever angry at this woman. It’s far more intense than the softness you experienced earlier with Se-mi, and you’re beginning to feel the effects of being pent up for so long. 

It’s not like you’ve never had sex with her before (to be fair, it’s only happened once), but this was far too emotional to be compared to the drunken haze you were both in when she fucked you over the seat of her van. There were no kisses shared then, no gentle caress of your face before she took you for herself. 

You’re dragged from your own thoughts when you feel a hand slide under your shirt and bra, gasping into her mouth as a cold hand cups your breast, roughly pinching your nipple between two fingers. You whimper right into her ear as her lips move down to your neck, sucking and biting as you openly pant. She’s practically surrounded you by now, but it’s not enough. 

With trembling hands, you grab the zipper of her pink suit and yank it down to reveal her slender body underneath. She practically tears the black turtleneck underneath the suit off as you stare. Your fingers scratch down her toned torso and you drink in the wonderful groan that leaves her mouth. As you’re preoccupied, she tugs on the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down right along with your panties in one pull. 

Faintly, as her hands grip the plush of your thighs, you try to determine if you’ve ever felt such strong feelings of desire, of love, of anything with anybody. 

No, you’re sure you’ve felt this before. 

Your eyes shoot open as she calls your name. Somewhere in the haze, No-eul has dropped to her knees in front of you, and now, she’s looking at you like you hold the world in your hands.

“Do you still love me?” A pause, and her fingers press harder into your thigh, cold leather gloves long forgotten on the floor. “Can you still accept me?”

Every moment that you remember being so close to that overwhelming emotion, No-eul is right there next to you. 

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

A tear falls from her pained eyes, but you aren’t given the opportunity to wipe it away before she leans forward and presses her open mouth against your core. A gasp leaves your mouth and you immediately tangle your fingers in her short hair. It’s a bit too much to take in all at once - the woman you’ve loved for years is fucking you, and this time, you think she might actually love you back.

No, who are you kidding, you know she loves you. Maybe not as much as you love her, but she has to love you if she’s on her knees like this for you.

With the comfort of this knowledge, you lean your head back and lose yourself in the feeling of her tongue deep inside you, strong hands holding you still against the wall even if your legs feel like giving out. As your moans and pants fill the room, you beg internally that Se-mi isn’t waiting right outside the door to walk you back (or at least let the sound-proofing be decent). 

Unsurprisingly, after a couple years without any genuine intimacy with anyone (you couldn’t bear to let anyone fuck you after No-eul did), you reach your peak quickly. It doesn’t feel like some triumphant moment; your legs shake as the tight coil in your stomach unwinds and it’s satisfying to some extent, but you can’t stop the sudden rush of tears that follow. 

Why did your acceptance of your feelings for her have to come in a place like this - covered in the blood of someone you killed with your own two hands? 

Your legs finally give out in your grief, but she’s quick to catch you, leaning back to properly sit down on the floor as she carefully guides you onto her lap. For a moment, you just tuck your head in her neck and cry as a hand gently rubs your back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” No-eul whispers, caught up in her own guilt for leading you down the same hateful path she accepted long ago. Why did you have to love her? Why did you have to follow her road towards self-destruction, the one she vowed to shield you from?

You want to tell her that she has nothing to be sorry about because you chose all of this on your own, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re worried that if you open your mouth now, all you’ll do is start spouting nonsense about how much you love her and how much of your humanity you would forsake to protect her dream. 

Instead of further exposing yourself, you gently take the hand she’s kept on your waist and guide it down lower once again. To her credit, she understands right away and you’re given no time to prepare for the two long, slender fingers she pushes inside you. The sound of your sharp inhale right next to her ear must’ve been enough confirmation that you were okay, because she immediately starts moving them up and down inside you, rubbing gently against your still sensitive walls. 

Your hands wrap around her back and grip her shoulders as your hips begin to move in tandem with her hands, your heavy breathing a stark contrast against her soft one. The hand she had on your back is still there, soothing you until your tears turn from ones of sadness to ones of pleasure. 

As the high you’re chasing starts to get closer, you tear your nails down her back. Even though she’s still the same person as she was minutes ago, something feels different this time.

“Please don’t stop, please-”

“I won’t, I swear.” The hand on your back flies down to grip your hips to hold you steady as your movements grow more frantic. “I’ll never let you go, not for anything.”

You almost fall forward when she suddenly leans back, but you catch yourself on her shoulders once again. This time, she looks you square in the eyes as she pushes you over the edge, her gaze filled with an emotion you know too well.

“I love you,” she breathes out, and this is all you need to fall apart in her hands. “I’m in love with you, I can’t let you go, I won’t.”

In the afterglow of the moment, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you right up against her body.

“Even if you can’t love me anymore, I’ll continue holding onto you for the rest of my life.”

You smile at her words. You feel more content than you ever have before.

It wouldn’t be so bad to die in this place now.

—

A/N: my bad min-su fans and nam-guy fans, its for the plot y'all😭😭also if im being completely honest, I started writing writing this longass story just for smut with no-eul but it got so unexpectedly deep cuz I couldn't handle writing it with no build-up or emotional tension or ANYTHING

hope y'all enjoyed and LOL to the fellow FREAKS out there I hope the smut was alright cuz that was the most difficult part for me... LMK WHAT U THINK!! pt. 3 is coming in SEVEN MONTHS LMFAO😭😭😭SEASON 3 SAVE ME... SAVE ME SEASON 3

also if u request feel free to add details and stuff I might be able to build it into a longass story like this (but WOW this took too long) also I LOVE TO WRITE SAD SHT!!! SEND ME SAD SHT ILL LOVE IT!!

Taglist: @asvterias