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m1ckeyb3rry · 10 months ago

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── PEREGRINE // ONE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You wrap up your affairs before flying over to your hometown, where your best friend will soon have his wedding.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: you know it’s a m1ckeyb3rry fic when the main love interest doesn’t even show up for the first few chapters…also please note this is NOT THE FIRST CHAPTER of the story there is a prologue before it!! which gives a lot of necessary background so you’re not (as) confused by the plot

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“Sora,” you cooed at your cat, your torso jammed beneath the bed as you tried to pull her out. “Dearest Sora, please don’t make this so difficult.”

“I told you you should’ve gotten rid of her when you had the chance,” Ryosuke said from where he was folding clothes to put in his suitcase. “Honestly, I don’t get why you insist on keeping her around. All she does is shit in the house and make problems.”

“She uses her litter box like a good girl, and she doesn’t cause trouble on purpose,” you said. “She’s an animal, not a person. She’s not capable of malicious intent.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that things would be a lot easier if you had just left her at the shelter when you moved in with me,” he said.

“I’ve had her for years,” you said, finally getting a grasp on her body and yanking her out in one swift move. “She’s a part of my family. I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate her.”

“She hates me, too!” he said. True to form, Sora hissed at him as you walked past, her ears flattening to show the disdain she had always held for him. “And you always take her side. It’s like you like her more than me!”

You rolled your eyes. “She’s a cat. You’re jealous of a cat.”

And you’re the one who’s cheating, anyways. You left this second part unsaid, because it wasn’t really relevant to the conversation, and besides, you had done such a good job at maintaining the facade of normalcy in your relationship that it would be a waste to break it just because he was annoying you.

That didn’t stop you from scowling at him when his back was turned, pressing a kiss atop Sora’s head and smiling when she purred at the show of affection — or was it because you were in the kitchen and near to her container of treats on the counter that she was so pleased?

“I’m not sure what to do with you,” you admitted, scratching under her chin with one hand and opening the jar with the other, offering her half of a treat as a consolation for having ripped her so uncaringly from her hiding place. She accepted it daintily, which meant that all was forgiven, and you stroked her in appreciation.

She was an enormous, fluffy white cat, closer in size to a small dog than anything. Her eyes were a wide, endless blue, hence why you had named her Sora, and her fur felt like cotton when you ran your hands through it. You had had her for almost as long as you had been in America, and you thought that there was almost no one in the entire vapid country who you loved more.

Normally, if you and Ryosuke had to go somewhere, you’d drop Sora off at Chigiri’s. She liked him well enough, and he was typically glad for the company, so it was a mutually beneficial deal. But of course, this time, Chigiri would also be away, as he was attending the same wedding that you and Ryosuke were, which meant that you were somewhat out of luck.

Sora dangled limply in your arms like a heap of rags as you paced about the kitchen, trying and failing to come up with someone who could take care of her while you were gone. Finally giving up when you realized that Chigiri had been right, you really did need more friends, you picked up your phone and called the man in question.

“Yo,” he said, answering almost immediately, though you could hear the shower running in the background, which meant he was either about to get into the bath or had gotten out for the express purpose of answering you. Either way, you decided not to hold him up with useless pleasantries.

“Hey, Chigiri,” you said. “I heard you’re going to Reo and May’s wedding?”

“Yeah, I’m between jobs again, so it’s not like I need to take off work or anything,” he said.

“Again?” you said, your resolve to have a quick conversation shattering almost immediately. The sound of water stopped, which meant that he, too, sensed the call was probably not going to be a short one.

“Tell me about it. I can only land short-term gigs at the moment,” he said.

“Maybe you should just move away from trying to coach entirely,” you suggested. “You were a marketing major, right? You could probably go corporate.”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m that desperate yet. I’m sure something or another will come along. The issue is that no high-level team wants a coach who hasn’t played in years, but those high-level gigs are the ones that are much steadier in terms of pay and schedule,” he said.

“I’d want you as a coach,” you said loyally. “If I was a soccer player.”

“You’d be a shitty soccer player. I don’t even think my coaching could change that fact,” he said.

“You’re so mean to me,” you said.

“Someone has to do it,” he said.

“And there I was, trying to support you,” you said. “On a more serious note, though, any team that doesn’t hire you just because of what happened back then is stupid.”

“Oh, I agree completely, but try telling them that. It’s all ‘sorry, but we want a coach that has a little more experience.’ I have experience! The only reason our school ever won games was because of me, even after I stopped being able to play myself. It’s not like that dumbass coach ever did anything for us beyond praising your peacock bastard fiancé,” he said

“Exactly,” you said, though you had no idea how true this was, as according to Ryosuke, he had been the one to carry the team to victory. The roles Chigiri might’ve had to play in their victories, if any, had always been omitted.

“Ugh, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m sure there’s some youth league that’ll take me on next season, so it’s okay. I’ll work it out, like I always do,”he said.

“Let me know if you need help at any point,” you said.

“Always,” he said.

“In the meantime, uh, I actually need your help,” you said.

“Right, I was wondering why you had called,” he said.

“The thing is that I don’t have anyone else I can leave Sora with, so I was going to pay one of my company’s interns to watch her while we’re gone,” you said.

“Aw, make sure you pick someone gentle. She’s very particular,” he said.

“You know, she is my cat,” you said.

“Just reminding you!” he said.

“I think I know who I’m going to ask already, so as long as he agrees to it, it’ll be fine,” you said.

“Okay, so what’s my place in all of this?” he said.

“Ryosuke and I have to go over a little earlier, since I’m the maid of honor, so I was wondering if you’d be alright with watching her until you have to leave?” you said.

“Why, because you don’t have to pay me?” he said.

“I can, if you want,” you said. “It’s just so she can be somewhere she’s comfortable, since she’s never met this kid before.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry about it. Drop her off whenever,” he said.

“You’re the best,” you said.

“Yup,” he agreed. “Now, I was kind of in the middle of something, so…”

“Oops, right, go enjoy your shower,” you said.

“Wait, how’d you know I was showering?”

Although there were several interns working for your company at any given time, you generally paid little attention to most of them. You were too busy with your own work and life to care about their struggles, so beyond giving them advice when they asked and helping them out when you didn’t have to go out of your way to, you didn’t interact with them much.

There was one boy, though, who had caught your eye. Something about his aloof personality and quiet demeanor reminded you of a person you had known back in high school, and you had unofficially adopted him, though you weren’t sure if he was exactly aware of this fact.

Actually, he was definitely unaware, considering the way he all but jumped out of his skin when you sat across from him in the lunchroom.

“Hey, Niko,” you said brightly. His dark hair covered his eyes, so you couldn’t read his reaction, but if you had to guess, it was probably panic. If you were in his place, that was what you’d be feeling, considering it wasn’t exactly typical of the regular employees to hang out with the students.

“Um, hello, Miss L/N,” he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level. “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No,” you said. “I just need you to do me a favor.”

He got out of his seat immediately, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app. You furrowed your brow as he tapped his foot expectantly.

“Well? What’s your coffee order? And which shop do you want me to get it from? I accidentally went to Starbucks the other day to get a latte for the director and he freaked out about it,” he said.

“Oh! He thinks Starbucks makes their coffee too sweet, that’s probably why,” you said.

“I learned that the hard way,” he said.

“Yikes, I’m sure that was not a fun conversation,” you said. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t need coffee, and you don’t have to say yes to this or anything. I guess you can consider it to be more of a request from a friend — although I promise I will pay you!”

“Okay,” Niko said hesitantly.

“I’ll just lay it on you,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m going abroad for a wedding soon, and I need someone to watch my cat,” you said. “She’s very well-behaved and friendly! Honestly, she’ll just sit with you on the couch the whole time, I’m sure. I’ll give you her food and everything, and like I said, I’ll pay you, so how about it?”

For the first time, he looked up at you, his hair falling out of his face and revealing bright, shimmering eyes. He clasped his hands together, a smile threatening to dawn upon his face, and then it was your turn to grow bewildered by the sudden switch in his personality.

“Yes!” he said. “I’d even do it for free, Miss L/N.”

“Woah, are you a cat enthusiast or something? And none of that; of course I’m going to pay, or else it’d just feel like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern,” you said.

“I really like them,” he said. “I’ve had one my whole life, but my house is a three hour drive from campus, so I haven’t gotten to see her much since graduating high school. I really miss hanging out with her, though, so it’ll be nice to have a cat around, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Perfect!” you said, cheering internally at how well things had worked out. “She’ll be staying with a friend of mine, so if you’ll give me your number, I’ll send it to him so you can coordinate picking her up at some point.”

“Sure,” he said, giving you his phone so you could type his number into your own. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Hyoma Chigiri,” you said. Niko’s jaw dropped.

“Hyoma Chigiri?” he whispered. “You’re friends with him?”

“Do you know him or something?” you said, handing him his phone back. Niko shook his head.

“Not personally, but I remember reading about what happened to him,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons my parents convinced me to stop playing soccer.”

“Ah, maybe don’t mention it around him,” you said. “He’s doing fine now, but he still doesn’t like talking about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Niko said. “My lips are sealed. I just can’t believe I’m going to have Hyoma Chigiri’s number in my phone!”

“Feel free to act like a fan all you want,” you said, after the initial strangeness of meeting someone still so obsessed with Chigiri had passed. “He really appreciates it when people praise him. Though, you probably shouldn’t spam him or anything.”

“I’ll be just as responsible with his phone number as I will with your cat. Thank you for entrusting me with this, Miss L/N! I promise I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I know you won’t,” you said. “And, to be fair, it’s not really a difficult task. Just sit at home and watch TV a lot and be kind with her; if you can do that, then Sora will be perfectly content.”

“That’s what I’d do anyways,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “Now I can feel even less like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern.”

“Thank you again for your faith in me!” he said when you reached your office, bowing at you as if you were some kind of sage master that had offered him a great opportunity for personal growth.

At least he was taking it seriously. You thanked whatever deity had intervened on your behalf that you had found the one person within a ten-mile radius who would care for Sora as well as you or Chigiri would.

Unlike Ryosuke, you barely packed anything but the most basic of items. This was because you knew full well that the minute you stepped foot on Japanese soil, you would be dragged into Reo’s arms, whereupon he would force you into his car and take you shopping at the closest luxury mall — on his card, of course. He was prone to such acts when it came to you, mostly because you were one of the first true friends he had ever had, and so he tended to spoil you as if you were his baby sister or something.

“How can you be sure that Reo’s going to get you everything you need?” Ryosuke said, eyeing the suitcase you lifted into the trunk of the car. “It’s been a pretty long time since you saw him last. He’s probably matured a ton since then — I mean, he’s getting married! What kind of wife would be okay with her husband doting on some random girl?”

“For one, I’m not some random girl; I’ve known May longer than Reo has, and I’m also the one who introduced them to one another. She knows there’s nothing between us, so there would be no reason for her to not be okay with it. Secondly, I’ve been friends with Reo for so long that he’s more like a weird cousin of mine than anything. The Mikages look after their own, and it just so happens that I am, by proxy, one of them. So I can be reasonably confident that it’ll work out in that way,” you said.

“Don’t you feel bad, then?” he said. “You’re using your best friend for his money.”

“You’re so determined to find fault with our relationship,” you said. “It’s not like that. Everyone has different ways to show affection for the people they care about. It just so happens that Reo’s so wealthy that that kind of thing is his own personal manner.”

Ryosuke scoffed, pressing the button to turn on the ignition and starting the car without another word, prompting a worried mewl from Sora, whose carrier was currently on your lap. You tapped the side to remind her that you were still there with her, and she quieted at that.

“Don’t forget that we have to go to Chigiri’s first,” you said.

“Yes, yes, we’ll stop by your lover’s house,” Ryosuke said. At your surprised expression, he laughed. “What? You’re always with him or at his place. Any normal person would suspect it.”

There were a million things you could say in response, but the least-inflammatory was a repetition of the same thing you had been telling him since the day the two of you got together.

“You know I’ve never been with anyone but you,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “I guess that’s true. No matter how many people you sleep with now, you can never change the fact that I was the first.”

“Hm,” you said, staring out of the window and speaking to his reflection instead of facing him properly. “Don’t be crude.”

“Come on, it’s just us two. When else can we make these kinds of jokes?” he said.

“You didn’t seem like you were joking,” you noted.

“Y/N, I’m hurt. You thought I was being serious? I mean, did you really think that I believed for a second that anyone preferred that washed up princess’s company to mine?” he said, stalling the car in the driveway and grinning. “Tell him I said hi.”

“You and I both know that’ll accomplish nothing,” you said, slinging the bag of Sora’s things over your shoulder and gripping the handle of her carrier so tightly that your knuckles whitened. “I’ll be back soon. No point in missing our flight.”

“I’ll be here,” Ryosuke said, waving at you as he began to fiddle with the knobs on the car’s dashboard, evidently trying to decide whether he wanted the radio to play classical music or the latest episode of some talk show.

You rang the doorbell and then stepped back, knowing it might take Chigiri a second to get to the door depending on where in the house he was located. Luckily, he had been expecting your arrival, so by the time your arm began to grow numb from holding Sora’s carrier, he was opening the door and inviting you in.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you said, setting the carrier down with a thump and massaging your shoulder. Chigiri crouched gingerly, unzipping the opening to the carrier and allowing Sora to peek her head out. When she realized where she was, she bounded out, rubbing her head against Chigiri’s legs as he breathed out a laugh and rubbed her face with his hands.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “It’s nice having someone else in the house. Less lonely.”

Your face softened, and if it weren’t for Ryosuke’s presence looming in the driveway, you’d have leaned over and hugged him. But as it was, your fiancé was waiting, and if you lingered for much longer, you risked missing your flight.

“You have Niko’s number?” you said.

“Yeah. He’s kind of a weird kid,” Chigiri said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“He keeps telling me that he thinks I’m cool and that he can’t believe he’s texting me,” Chigiri said, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “So strange.”

At this, you smiled, vowing to text Niko and thank him later. His admiration was exactly the boost Chigiri needed when he was so down on his luck, and though he was pretending like he found it odd, it was obvious he was pleased by the attention.

“As long as he can take care of Sora,” you said. Chigiri nodded in determination.

“I’m sure he can. He obviously has good taste in other things, so it stands to reason that he’d be the kind of person who could really look out for her in the way she’s used to,” he said.

“You would be the first to die in a horror movie,” you said. “Did you know that?”

“What? Why would you say such a thing?” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “I should go. Ryosuke’s in the car, and our flight is soon.”

Chigiri wrinkled his nose, his whole delicate face crumpling at the mention of your fiancé.

“I thought something felt off about the property,” he said.

“You are so dramatic,” you said. “He says hi.”

“Tell him I said fuck off,” Chigiri said.

“I don’t think — actually, sure,” you said. “I’ll do that. See you at the wedding. And Sora, please be a good girl for Chigiri and Niko alike.”

“She will be,” Chigiri said affectionately. Sora had wriggled her way into his arms, and he stood while hugging her to his chest, ready to shut the door behind you. “See you, Y/N.”

You were reluctant to leave, because it would be so easy to stay and talk with Chigiri while playing with Sora, but you knew you had to. Even that knowledge, though, was hardly enough — it was simply the thought of seeing Reo and May again that made you take the next step, and the next, all of the way until you were back in the passenger seat of the car and Ryosuke was reversing the car down the driveway.

“So, how is my beloved teammate?” Ryosuke said. “Did he leave you with a message for me?”

“Yes,” you said. “He told me to tell you to fuck off.”

Ryosuke chuckled. “Sounds about right. He’s always been a petty son of a—”

“Ryosuke,” you sighed. “Do you really get any gain out of insulting the only friend I have left in this country?”

“It’s the same gain he gets out of insulting your fiancé!” he said.

“Which I always reprimand him for,” you said. “And also, he at least has something resembling a reason to resent you. When you do it, it just feels excessive.”

“You defend me to him?” he said.

“Obviously?” you said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I suddenly feel very cheerful and optimistic,” he observed.

“What are you talking about?” you said. He waved you off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was a personal musing. Think of it like an interjection from the narrator, except that in this case, the narrator and the protagonist are the same.”

“Okay,” you said. “Sure. If that’s what makes sense to you.”

The two of you spent the rest of the drive to the airport in relative silence. Ryosuke hummed along to whatever pop song came on the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, and you texted your friends — mostly Reo and May, who had been anxiously waiting for your arrival since you had agreed to come at all.

When you had first started dating, you used to go on aimless drives for hours, talking about whatever crossed your mind. Not a second would go by without one of you speaking, but that kind of constant conversation wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, you both ran out of things to say, and so you began to spend more and more of your time together in silence. That was around the time that Ryosuke began to seek outside assistance in quelling the fire which was constantly blazing within him; whether it was a coincidence or a cause, you could not tell, but it remained that everything had happened at once and led to your relationship now being like this.

You always forgot how long the flight back to Japan was. It was the second reason you never visited, beyond the fact that there was hardly anything worth visiting in the first place — it was a day-long ordeal composed of arguing with the TSA agents, waiting in security lines, and of course the flight itself, which was only marginally bearable because Reo insisted on buying you first-class tickets.

You spent most of it dozing, the armrest between you and Ryosuke pushed up so you could lean your head against his chest as he watched a movie. In the haze of your sleep, you could feel his arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers idly stroking your cheek as if that were the natural outcome, as if there was no other place that they could come to rest. It was the easiest that things had ever been between you in some time, and subconsciously, you relished in it, in the soft scent of his cologne, in the warmth of pretending like you were loved by someone again.

Reo had told you, in no uncertain terms, to not even attempt going to the baggage claim. He had contacts in the airport who would take care of it, because of course he did, and so the only thing you and Ryosuke had to do was meet him and May at the gate. You stopped in the bathroom, mostly at your insistence, so that you could freshen yourself after the long flight, which had sapped you of most of your energy despite how much of it you had spent sleeping.

“Are you nervous?” Ryosuke said as you reached the door. He held both of your carry-on bags in his hands, an amused grin on his face as you all but vibrated with every step you took.

“Of course,” you said. “I haven’t seen them in so long, and I haven’t been back home in that same amount of time. I don’t know how it’s all changed. And what if it hasn’t? What if the only one who’s changed is me?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, nudging you in the side. “Look who it is.”

Standing awkwardly by the metal barrier separating the airport from the street in front of it, surrounded by security guards that kept the rest of the crowds at bay, was Reo Mikage. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a polo, sunglasses perched on his head as he checked the time on the — likely expensive — watch which he wore on his left wrist.

A grin split your face, your spirit rejuvenated as surely as if you had never been exhausted in the first place. Cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, you shouted out his name with glee.

“Reo!”

The boredom dropped from his expression immediately as his head snapped up, trying to determine the source of the noise. When he locked eyes with you, he beamed so brightly that you were all but blinded by it, and then you were both racing towards the opening in the barricade where you could finally meet.

You tossed your arms around his neck as soon as you could reach him, clinging onto him tightly, suddenly and unreasonably weepy at the fact that the two of you had finally been reunited. He did the same, squeezing you to the point that you thought you might burst from the pressure.

“I can’t believe you’re finally back,” he said, letting you go and holding you at an arm’s length so that he could look you over with a critical eye. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “Where’s May?”

“She had to go to the bathroom,” he said. “She should be back in a couple of seconds, and she’ll probably be furious, too, considering she was really hoping she’d spot you first. I convinced her that it would be fine for her to take a moment to herself, and that it’d probably still be a bit of time before you arrived, but, uh, I guess it ended up being kind of an unfortunate coincidence in that sense.”

“What’s up, man? Congrats on the wedding,” Ryosuke said, finally catching up to you and offering Reo his hand. Reo glanced at it, and anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did wouldn’t have even noticed the way he hesitated before taking it and shaking it with the firm conviction of a businessman.

“Thanks, Kira,” he said. “You’ve been taking care of my best friend?”

“’Course I have been,” Ryosuke said, ruffling your hair. You did your best to force a laugh, not wanting Reo to have to concern himself with your wellbeing when he was about to be married. “You’ll be the one coming back to America for our wedding soon.”

“That so?” Reo said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I expect to be the first one invited to the wedding, then.”

“Was I the first one invited to yours?” you shot back.

“Er, I mean, not exactly…” Reo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to tell Nagi first, since I wanted him to be my best man and had to give him adequate time to prepare for the hassle of the role.”

“Then I’ll invite May first, since she’ll naturally be my maid of honor,” you said, your stomach twisting at the mention of Nagi. “But you can be second, Reo.”

“That’s right!” a new voice said. “He had better be second, considering he sent me to the bathroom so that he could win our bet!”

And then there she was in front of you: Reo’s soon-to-be wife and your former roommate, May Ducat. Her thick brown hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her peacock-feather eyes gleamed as she embraced you tightly.

“May,” you said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you!” she said. “I miss you every day. Mostly because you were a much better roommate than this one. He snores.”

“Hey!” Reo said, gasping in offense. “I do not.”

You dug around in your pocket before solemnly presenting her with a box of breathe-right strips.

“I know,” you said. May clapped in delight, accepting them and then turning to hand them to Reo, who took them even as he protested that he definitely didn’t need them and how would Y/N even know if I snore, anyways?

“Congratulations, May,” Ryosuke said, offering her his hand as well. May glanced at but did not accept it, opting to smile frigidly instead.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. After a discomfiting pause, Ryosuke lowered his hand, brushing it off against his pants and clearing his throat.

“I couldn’t let Y/N come alone,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said.

“It’ll be my first time meeting her parents,” he said. At this, May gave you a sad look. Though you had never told her much, she had always harbored her suspicions, always been less fond of Ryosuke than she really ought to be, considering he was typically polite to her.

“I hope it goes well,” she said. Ever the diplomat, Reo was the first to break the ensuing silence, clearing his throat.

“Alright, then! I’ll have one of my drivers take you two to your hotel room, where your things will be waiting, and then tonight, we can show you around. Y/N, they just built a new mall where that park used to be, so we can go shopping there,” he said.

“They built a mall over the park?” you said, your eyes widening at the prospect. Reo nodded.

“Isn’t it great? It’s so much more convenient than the one we used to go to,” he said. You disguised your frown with a yawn.

“Right,” you said.

“Try not to sleep,” May advised. “It’ll help you break your jet lag if you just stay up for as long as you can.”

“We’ll do our best,” Ryosuke said. May gave him a measured look before nodding slightly, turning away to continue her conversation with Reo instead of risking further discussion with your fiancé.

The hotel you were staying in was only a few streets down from your childhood home, and as with all things Reo, it was excessively opulent. The shower itself was large enough to fit at least ten people, and you spent far longer in it than was really necessary, rinsing the grime of your journey off of yourself.

“Going to sleep already?” Ryosuke said when you crawled under the covers of the bed beside him. “May recommended we wait.”

“I know,” you said with a yawn. “I’m just going to lie down and close my eyes. I’m not actually going to sleep or anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, patting you on the head. “I’ll do the same, then.”

Before long, the both of you had passed out.

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #peregrine #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

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Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Burnout, exhaustion, overworked (aren't we all?) shit gets a wee bit too relatable

A/N: Did I spend too much time looking through how the gods were worshipped? Yes, yes I did. Do I finally have a way to vent the weird feelings I have about the angry bird man? Also yes.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 1:

Dust and Echoes

Day after day, night after night. The dreadful tedium of your life was not lost on you. The same job every night, the same work that left knots and tension in your back and muscles, your arms feeling like they were about to fall off and your feet feeling like you had holes drilled into the bottoms...

You couldn't work during the day, it was just simply not in your schedule. No matter how you tried, it was hard to stay awake during the day.

You had a severe case of insomnia, no doctor you went to (when you could afford them, which you barely could) could prescribe anything that would help you sleep. You even tried hypnosis. That was wild.

The dude said you flipped out and started talking in another language, and he was half tempted to call the church on you! That memory was always good for a laugh.

Could be worse, you supposed.

After all, your night job was cleaning a small office building (four floors, and your coworkers almost never helped) which meant mostly deserted floors and dozens of vacant cubicles.

It was kind of relaxing in a way, you could plug in your headphones, blast your favorite tunes and just go off into your own little world while you cleaned.

The world which you concocted was one many overworked and underpaid individuals such as yourself dreamt. A nice big house, food in the fridge, never having to worry about missing the next bill payment or not being able to afford insurance...

But you always had to wake up from that dream world.

You hated that part of your night.

While yes, you have always found the comfort and coolness of the night soothing, there were still dangers lurking out there in the dark.

You'd taken some half-assed self defense classes (you had to drop out because of your sleep schedule), but your skills were lackluster at best. So, you opted for your mace and taser as your trusty companions.

You'd been attacked and mugged five times in the last year and a half. You learned to stop carrying your money on you after the second time, only keeping your metro card on you.

You wondered why, why of all places, did you decide to move to New York? You were a country girl blinded by the dazzling lights, a stupid cliché trope you hated yourself for existing in.

And what did your naivete earn you? A shitty one room apartment that was barely the size of most motel rooms. The only reason you stayed was because at least your apartment had that small kitchen, compared to the rathole hostels you'd unfortunately been victim to before.

Your landlord was shrewd and strict, but at least the rent was affordable. That was the only blessing. Because your electric and other utilities were covered in your rent, you really only needed to worry about money for food. Which... you had been subjected to a rather unhealthy diet consisting mostly of tv dinners, dollar menu fast foods, and cheap Chinese takeout.

Half the time you felt like there was more to this, but logic always kicked in.

Then again, everyone felt like there was more to life when their life consisted of being a faceless, nameless, replaceable cog in the corporate machine.

But for you, even despite your logic, you just... you could feel there was more out there for you. Something meaningful.

You couldn't place your finger on it, but you just knew. It was like an itch under your skin, a tingling in your fingertips.

You were special. You just... you knew you were. Sometimes you could predict what somebody was going to say before they said it, sometimes you could fix things you'd never even looked at before, sometimes, you swore you could see things before they happened.

Oh, and then there were the dreams. Those dreams gave you the willies.

Usually in those dreams, you were floating in a black void, blinking until things came into focus. Looking down at your feet, it was like you were walking on perfectly smooth water, stars blinking to life one by one, reflected on the surface like an inky black mirror, your own reflection not able to be seen.

You would walk and walk and walk... but never reached a destination.

That's when you would feel something. Like the first winter chill creeping into the autumn breeze.

A voice. Deep, raspy... mournful.

You could never make out what the voice said, but whoever it was, they sounded lonely; almost in pain.

But then all at once you would be swallowed up into a light, almost like you were falling back to the very Earth itself, waking with a jolt, your clothes soaked with sweat, your hair dripping with it.

Yeah. Those dreams were the worst. You never felt rested when you had them...

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Today was one of the rare days you forced yourself out of bed and ventured out into the light of day. After all, humans need sunlight. And you were starting to look dreadfully pale.

You were confident you looked like some sort of ghoul, the way people gave you such sideways glances...

You shrugged your bag over your shoulders, looking into the storefronts curiously. You weren't looking for anything specific. You were aimlessly wandering at this point, really. You had two days off (only because your boss flat out told you you've hit overtime twice this month, and even he was concerned for your health) and figured, hey... may as well get some vitamin D while you're at it.

You shoved your hands in your pockets, your pinky poking through the hole on the inside of the pocket on the left side. God, you thought, I should make a trip to the thrift store today, get some decently-used jeans. Need some with less mileage on em.

The smell of incense burned your nostrils, crappy "spiritual" flute music croaking over a speaker well past its prime, wind chimes toning lazily in the breeze.

You lift your gaze and spot the shop, some kind of "witchy aesthetic" kinda thing. Pentacles, Celtic symbols, as well as some Norse-Pagan paraphernalia littered the front window. As well as the gauche lettering depicting palm readings and fortunes, and of course "magic".

Pah. Stupid.

You were about to walk by when two young women clad in black walked by, happily chirping to one another about offerings, smudgings, or... whatever it was. It wasn't your business.

As you watched them go, you turned to continue on your path, but a hand gripped your wrist.

The owner of the appendage was a woman. Her brown hair streaked with gray, her olive-green eyes seeming like they were focusing on something far away rather than at you.

"Uh..." You said, slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh! Forgive me, dear..." She laughed, taking your hand in hers and patting the back of your palm with her free hand; the thick leather bracer on her forearm was an odd fashion choice, you mused.

"Would you like to come in? I have something for everyone!" She winked.

"Er, well, I'm not really into... this whole thing." You chuckle nervously.

"Oh you don't have to be, sweetheart. No harm in looking, is there?"

"....Alright." You concede. She had a good point.

Your noticed as she let your hand go, your "funny feeling" was starting to tingle your fingertips.

And as you walked past the threshold of the front door? Your whole body felt like it was tingling.

Wall to wall, the small shop was filled with things that dazzled the senses, both visually and you were certain in other ways.

The woman hummed as she led you deeper into her shop, gesturing for you to walk into a dark room that was bordered with a beaded curtain in the door.

Yeah. That was how dumb people in horror movies got murdered. No, thank you.

"Look, I can just... uh." You try to find an excuse to turn down the woman who treated you with such polite words and demeanor.

But something about her had you so, so curious. Your "feeling" could not anticipate this woman, anything she said or did seemed a mystery to you.

"You seem tired, dear." She smiled sweetly, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I... well. I'm..."

"Overworked. I assume this is your first day off in days? Weeks, maybe?" She sighed, a sympathetic look on her face.

"How did you--"

"You are very pale, dear. Here, come. Come. Sit with me, hm?" She giggles, reaching out to bring you past the beaded curtain and into the dark room.

Her name, she told you, was Jezebel.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Goddamn you and your curiosity. The things this woman were telling you were compelling you. It was insane, the things she knew about you. She was right on the nose.

Even about the muggings.

That was when she brought up the subject of protection. When you brought up your self defense and "weapons", she chuckled and waved it off, simply saying that she didn't mean "that" kind of protection.

When you asked what she meant by that, she walked into another room connected to the dark room you were in, the table draped in a velvet cloth with tarot cards laid meticulously set.

She came back with something wrapped in a black silk cloth.

"Here, child. Try this." She hands you whatever it is, and encourages you to unwrap it.

Wrapped inside was a small, old-looking (Ancient, if you were honest) statuette of some sort. You could tell, even with your uneducated eye, that this was done in some kind of style reminiscent of the statues of ancient Egypt that you'd only glimpsed in documentaries. At first you thought it might be Horus, but the head was all wrong...

"Pray to Khonshu, and he will protect you during your travels in the night." She said sweetly.

"I..." You can't tear your gaze away from the statue.

"I can give you prayers, incense, an altar cloth, and basic offerings to get you started, sweetheart. Wait right here."

Before you can reject her offer, she vanishes elsewhere in the store...

And before you know it, she hands you a burlap bag, putting the statue, plus the other items in the bag for you.

"I... I can't pay for this, I..." You stammer.

"Trust me, my dear. This is on the house. You need this." She winks, patting the back of your hand again.

"Now, go. Set up the altar when you get home, get some rest, and say a prayer. Do this every time you leave during the night, and Khonshu and his Fists will protect you."

Somehow, you felt compelled yet again to accept her word, leaving her shop, your brain in a fog.

As you walked, you felt something.

Like a soft voice whispering on a desert wind.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Jezebel watched you leave, a satisfied and happy smirk playing on her lips.

Above, she heard the croaking of a crow.

She made a soft whistle and held out her arm, the one wearing the leather bracer.

And in a blur, a crow, white as snow and eyes as red as blood, landed on her arm, making very happy noises, almost singing at her, in his own way.

"Yes, I know, Zephyr." She smiled wider as she walked inside, Zephyr waddling up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

"I could sense it, too. Perhaps He will answer that girl..."

She then pulled the leather bracer off her arm, and looked at the mark on her inner wrist.

When she looked at the scales, Jezebel smiled.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 2: Link

#moon knight #Khonshu #khonshu x you #khonshu x reader #khonshu #khonshu moon knight #my writing #khonsu

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mandiemegatron · 1 year ago

Note

Please please please tell me your favorite Doffy headcannons I am dying to know!

Thank you for being here omg!

I LOVE U SO MUCH ANON, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS QUESTION 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖

Header by ; @baka-tsuki // @baka-tsuki-2 ♡

『☼』 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 『☼』

♡ even though you say "I love you" first, Doflamingo always goes above and beyond to show you how much he truly appreciates your love. Showering you in gifts is number one - necklaces, mostly. Gold, sterling silver - your choice, as long as you wear it for him the second he gifts it to you. Never gaudy or over the top, more simple but gorgeous, usually accompanied with tiny precious gemstones. Your favourite one is a simple, thin gold chain with a small gold circle, the Donquixote Crest stamped onto it. [He internally loses it everytime you wear it, especially if it's out and about or to a not so important meeting. Seeing you wear his crest with pride makes him feel absolutely feral]

♡ Doflamingo always, always, always makes time for you, no matter how much he has on his plate. Whether it be first thing in the morning or right before bed, he always makes sure to kiss you at least once a day. While for some that may not seem like much, but to you, it's more than enough. You know how busy and important he is and understand why he can't be with you every second of the day, which he shows appreciation by fucking you senseless the moment he can. This man will give up a night's rest to not only fuck you but make love to you, at least as best he can. You both know he's broken, unfamiliar with love as a whole but that doesn't deter you at all, showing him just how wonderful genuine love and affection is.

♡ He loves having you in his lap when he's doing paperwork. He's got a lot of it, so be sure to bring a book. Most times, Doflamingo demands you wear a dress or skirt with no panties, so he can run his fingers over your soaked cunt whenever he wishes. Nothing makes the man cackle more than making you fall apart in his lap while doing the most boring duties, bringing you over the edge at least twice before stuffing his cock into you, roughly pressing your front into his desk as he takes you from behind.

♡ Doflamingo loves when you wash his hair and body. The man has a worship kink, deeming himself a God worthy of adoration and you are more than happy and willing to service him however he chooses. It's such a soft, intimate moment when he brings you into the tub room with him, sinking into the almost pool sized bath and pulling you against him. You cling to him and he kisses you, over and over, everywhere on your face. This is the only time you see him without his glasses, your fingers following the same routine everytime of brushing over his face lovingly, thumb gently dancing under his blind eye which he closes. It's the only time he tells you he loves you, the words soft and near non-existent. It's like he worries It's all a dream and if he says it too loud, the dream will collapse. You don't mind, simply returning kisses over and over as you tell him the same.

♡ Doflamingo gets incredibly jealous wicked fast. A lowly servant speaking to you for too long? Off with their head. A patron in the bar trying to catch your attention? He'll scoop you up and devour your lips right in front of them before ending their existence. If you try to make him jealous on purpose, he'll punish you then and there, pushing your skirt up and pressing long fingers into you, not caring if you're in public or not. You're his and his alone, and everyone is going to know that somehow. Jealousy sex is painful, almost too much and overwhelming to the point you're sobbing, begging for him to either let you cum or to stop. He'll have you over-fucked to the point you can't speak as he fucks you from behind, eyes rolled back and drooling - its his second favourite position.

♡ His favourite position is you on top, titties bouncing and fingers digging into his sculpted chest and stomach, nails leaving angry red lines over his tanned skin. Doflamingo loves to dig his fingers into your hips, leaving bruises and aching bones behind. There's nothing that fuels his ego more than seeing you unable to walk after a long session, summoning threads to wrap around you and help you walk to the washroom. He's warm and only slightly sweaty every time, his hold incredibly tight around you when you return. He loves watching you curl into him, feeling like a cage trapping a song bird, one that was made just for him.

There are few things in this world that Doflamingo truly loves - and you are one of them.

#; in mandies mind / headcanons #ok to rb #one piece #one piece headcanons #doflamingo headcanons #Donquixote Doflamingo #🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 I LOVED THIS !!!#this was so much fun UGH i love my mans so much !!!!

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nerdieforpedro · 5 months ago

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Common Ground

Part Five of A Safe Place for Us

Dieter Bravo x Aisha Smith (plus size OFC)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Aisha and Dieter have been busy. So busy that Aisha thinks about something Dieter hasn’t requested yet. That quickly falls by the wayside as they have a conversation about what their future could look like.

Warnings: cum play, being sore, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, coherent communication (in romance? Say it ain’t so!), bad jokes (it isn’t a true Nerdie fic without a few odd references), music choices, food mention, papers

Word Count: a little under 1.8k

Notes: Is there a schedule for this series? No. Am I working on it? Yes I wrote two sentences of chapter six. 😅 If one squints, there might be a reference or two to a certain musician, which I giggled thought about taking the jokes out and then said, nah staying in. I enjoy these two idiots in love. They’re cute. 🥰 And this is a series I write for comfort and to laugh. You know, I’m between the angst and dark stuff. 👀 (My bad to Jack and Pero).

Main Masterlist/ Dieter Bravo Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Waking up to Dieter takes getting used to for Aisha. It’s not unwelcome, she’s just not used to someone clinging to her like he does. Every morning he stays at her apartment is one where he has his arm and head somewhere on her. Chest, stomach, thigh, back, ass one time because he enjoys scissoring her entrance wider and scooping his spend that drips out of her back in before pumping his fingers to stir his cum within her.

She feels she needs to tell him to maybe stay at his place for a bit. Not because of the sex, if anything, she’d want him to stay longer for that. But Aisha is sore. Her pussy is sore, her legs are sore, breasts are sore, back and the only reason her mouth isn’t is that Dieter descends on her whenever he stops by. There’s no time for her to fumble with his pants when he’s already dropped them and is working to get her wet enough to enter.

Aisha notices though, over the almost two months they’ve been at this, Bravo’s been more prone to want her to climax before he does. It’s not that she’s never seen Dieter work hard. He’s dedicated to his acting craft and his art but not like this. Not in the same level of effort she sees his leaking head smearing drops on her thighs and the look on his face tells her he’s held off just for this. Just to be inside of her and to fill her. It’s when Dieter has her put her knee on the stool that’s in front of her small kitchen island that doubles as a counter that she mentions it before he enters her for the third time today. “Dee, don’t you want me to suck your cock? Sometimes…” She wants him inside, her walls are clenching in anticipation, but she and her cunt are tired. He pauses and kisses her shoulder, Dieter likes her in simple dresses for easy access.

“You want to Ai?“ He uses his teeth to nibble at her skin, Aisha groans, feeling herself lusting to having him inside. It’s becoming a need, and if she was honest with herself, it’s been one after the first week. “Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet.” Dieter knows that Aisha may not be handling such an increase in frequency of their joined bodies well. His libido is strong and is worse now that his best friend who he’s imagined in this very kitchen and on this island so many nights, morning and in his various trailers finally gave him access to her body. Bravo wants her to crave him like he does her, and wants his Aisha ravenous for him.

“Just let me do it once-“ Her yelp cuts out midway as he enters her slowly, testing her always to make sure she’s not pushing him away. She doesn’t. Laying her forearms on the counter, Aisha uses the leverage to push back, needing more friction than Dieter’s slow pace. He always enjoys teasing her, at least that's what she thinks. Lips at the back of her neck are wet from the small beads of sweat as he quickens to match her pace. Soon just slaps of skin and grunts are heard from Dieter as Aisha calls his name in forced whispers between breaths. It’s now that he has a hold on her hips and thrusts become rougher. The Oscar winner sees Aisha lay her forehead on the cool marble as she stretches her arms out, “Dammit, god you feel amazing Dee.”

“Make up your mind Scribbles.” Dieter leans over and coos in her ear before licking it. “Your pussy’s already swallowing my cock.” He slows his pace to last a bit longer, feeling her squeeze around his shaft is a haven he wants to remain in a bit longer. Bravo isn’t able to keep it slow and speeds back up, pumping Aisha full and rolling his hips while he reaches down to circle his thumb around her sensitive bud. “Give me one more Ai. One more.” With a string a ‘fucks’ her core grips Dieter’s dick as she comes again, when he doesn’t feel her body spasming, they both slump to the floor next to the kitchen island base. Aisha’s sitting in Dieter’s lap as his now limp cock slips out of her. The sudden cold has her groan. “You’ve always got one more in you Scribbles.” Bravo laughs and so does Aisha.

“More like I’ve always got you in me Dieter.” Her comment had Dieter run his hands down her thighs, rubbing them slowly.

“That’s our goal isn’t it? Keep you full so soon you’ll have a bun in the oven. Right?” He reaches up and pats her belly, Aisha places her hands over his.

“It is. It’s just we haven’t talked about what this is going to look like Dee. Not really.”

“You want to talk about it now? Or in a few after we wash up?” Dieter stands first and assists Aisha to her feet as they make their way to her bedroom.

“Yeah we should.” After cleaning up, they sit at the edge of the bed. “So say I’m pregnant this week, what do you expect to happen Dieter?” Scratching the back of his head, Bravo knows it’s serious when she calls him his full first name.

“Assuming I’m not on location or at some press thing, I’d want to celebrate with you. Have some cake and ice cream or something.” Aisha touches his face and traces the heart that grows in his patchy beard, she starts to say something but Dieter pats her knee. “But before that, no matter if you’re pregnant or not, I want you to move in with me. I don’t want you here by yourself and I’m going to hire an assistant for you.”

“Dieter Bravo you-“

“Hear me out Aisha.” His face is stern, a look she remembers from when she first brought up going by herself to the clinic. “You’ll still be in charge of what’s going on, I just want to be sure someone’s with you and I’m tired of going back and forth between our places.”

“Dieter what’s going to happen to my apartment? I’ve lived here for years. There’s so much stuff to move.”

“I know, but I told you I was going to do this with you. So I’m going to your next appointments and we’re going to come up with a birth plan with candles, a baby pool, some Enya and-“

“I plan to have the baby in the hospital Dee. And why Enya of all the music you could possibly think of? Not even like a lofi beats or classical? Just right to Enya?” Aisha’s hand grips Dieter’s shoulder as she laughs, shaking her head at the thought.

“But you’ll live with me right? To co-parent the hell out of this kid? You know once they get old enough they’ll try and pit us against each other.” Dieter plops back on the bed, “Mama! Daddy said I could have the Kit Kats! I swear!” Aisha lays down next to him and pokes his forehead.

“I know that’s a lie. You don’t share those, ever. The kid would be in so much hot water.” Curling up on Bravo’s chest, it’s a pleasant dream that could be a reality any day now. It’s frightening but he’s willing to be by her side. “So this is most days huh? In addition to the baby making, I mean.”

“Just so you know Ai, I’ve been down to fuck you since we shared leftovers from ‘Graceland.’ The more I got to know you, the worse it got. You were always so sweet, despite those delightfully smutty books you call novels and now the latest one with some woods fairy hung dude.” Aisha pinches his tummy as he continues, “I know what sad girl music you listen to. You want me to start howling when I get home?”

“I knew you listened to his music!“ She pecks his lips, “that’s from his first album too. I’m glad you don’t howl. I don’t want to imagine it. I don’t think it would sound the same coming from you Dee.”

“Of course not.” Dieter lays back and gives Aisha a cheeky grin. “It sounds a hellova lot better to you doesn’t it Scribbles?”

“You’re impossible. And we’ve gotten way off track.” Putting her head on his chest, she listens to his heart beat, it’s steady. Dee’s relaxed. “I have an appointment with my doctor next week. My primary, the OBGYN is in two weeks.”

“You know what we should do, merge calendars so we can keep track of everything.” Dieter’s hand runs his hand along her back.

“Sounds good Dee.” Aisha agrees and they doze off.

The next morning, Dieter does manage to make eggs and toast, they eat breakfast together and Aisha is dropped off at a meeting with her editor and publisher after riding with Bravo on his way back to the set. It turns out that there have been some script changes so he has half a day instead of a full one. He thinks about popping by Aisha’s place but decides to not to.

Dieter Bravo normally doesn’t plan much, but it seems it would be best to set up a meeting or two. He needs to start planning for the future.

The supernatural romance book Dieter had playfully mocked, was well received by her publisher and editor so Aisha calls Bravo to ask when he’s going to be home, she wants to celebrate. She declined the lunch that was served and hoped he’d be up for dinner, the scent of the garlic from the bread bothered her nose. Ai figured maybe the scent was just too strong and didn’t think much of it. Dieter answered and told her to be ready to be picked up and eat some Korean BBQ. Just the thought of the food was enough to grin with excitement.

That night, they went to a small hole in the wall Korean BBQ place that Dieter had found. They laughed and ate so much beef that both of them waddled to the car full of food.

Sleep that night came easy and was a bit gassy. With the sunrise and morning coffee, Dieter presented Aisha with a thick Manila folder. She sat across the kitchen island and opened it curious at what he’s cooked up.

Turns out the Oscar winner is more clever than people give him credit for.

Chapter Four. Chapter Six

Peeps who appreciate Dieter’s “dedication” to his duties 🥵: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @schnarfer @yorksgirl @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @guelyury

@readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

@harriedandharassed @baronessvonglitter

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x ofc #a safe place for us #nerdieforpedro #a Nerdie series

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maybankiara · 1 year ago

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WHERE WE'D END UP AT THE END

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera summary: Kiara unexpectedly returns from her trip around the world with a confession for JJ. w/c: 7k a/n: au in which everything happened apart from the jiara kiss, and before the time jump, all the pogues went their separate ways. everything else is canon. pining, fluff, angst, confessions, this has got it all. masterlist | tag list read on archive of our own

He doesn’t know she’s back until he hears her voice coming from behind him. Even then, as he turns around, it’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that the person in front of him is more than a mere memory brought up by the June heat.

Her name falls from his lips and, just like that, the Earth starts spinning again.

For three years, JJ was the only Pogue on the island. Pope left for university and found himself a job there, staying over summer and only returning for a few days in winter to celebrate Christmas with his family. John B and Sarah decided to move to the Bahamas, permanently, away from the mess that the Outer Banks offered. Kiara decided that she wanted to see the world and then she decided to stay in it.

Kildare wasn’t for any of them, but JJ was the only one without the option of leaving it. He settled down, instead, found work at a mechanic’s workshop and a part-time job as a bartender down at Figure Eight. Friends were scarce and fun was scarcer, yet JJ thought it to be the best turn of events – if he focused on getting money, someday he’d be able to escape, too.

That was the plan, anyway. And now he’s at the Kook bar, reorganising the shelves because the shift is at its slowest point, and he hears the trembling voice he truthfully gave up on thinking he’d hear again.

For all his charming mannerisms, they all seem to fall flat now. He’s just staring but his brain is unable to take in the image; a malfunction. A proper system shutdown.

‘I, uh… I’ll have a bit of that.’ She points at the bottle in JJ’s hands. He moves his finger a little, revealing the letters spelling out Jack Daniels: Fire. ‘Make it double.’

All JJ manages is a meek nod and a: ‘Coming right up.’

He turns his back to her and takes out a whiskey glass. His fingers are slippery enough it almost falls from his grip, but he holds onto it. He glances back and she’s got her eyes on him, her lips parted in a heavy sigh.

‘One for you, too,’ she says. There’s a ring on her finger she keeps fiddling with; it’s a new one. JJ tries not to stare at it. ‘If you’re allowed.’

Without a word, JJ fetches another glass from the cupboard. He takes a small shot glass and lets the golden liquid trickle into it. It would be easier to have just taken the double-sized shot glass, but… he didn’t do it. He’s not stalling, it’s just more precise this way.

JJ glances at her. ‘On the rocks or straight?’

‘On the rocks. It’s a hot day.’

He turns around and opens the cupboard behind the bar, scooping up two ice cubes. Both of them go into a single glass that he hands over to her. The whiskey has a bitter smell and it just about burns his throat when he takes a sip of it.

‘So,’ he says, ‘you’re back.’

Kiara Carrera’s lips relax into a smile that makes her eyes wrinkle a little. She lets out a chuckle, too, and JJ lets notes that her eyes look a little brighter now. Their colour is the same as it was when they first met as kids, but their owner is livelier. She looks a little taller, her face a little more defined, and it’s hard to believe it’s been merely three years since he’s last seen her.

There’s still a band sitting on top of her hair, the tank top she’s wearing is in the same earthly tones he’s always known her in, and at the same time it feels as if no time has passed.

She takes a big sip, shuts her eyes and shudders before letting out a big sigh, and chuckles.

JJ feels the grin forming on his face. ‘You still can’t take whiskey?’

‘Nope. The true bane of my existence.’

‘Why order it, then?’

‘You know me,’ she says, offering a shrug. ‘I needed something strong. For the jitters.’

‘The jitters.’

‘Oh c’mon, JJ.’ Kie leans over the bar a little, just enough to give him a playful shove, smiling bright and wide. ‘I haven’t seen you in three years. It’s scary.’

JJ quirks an eyebrow at her. The whiskey tastes a little more like cinnamon this time around and he rests his elbows on the bartop. ‘Do you find me scary, Ms Carrera?’

She leans closer. ‘In your dreams.’

They’re close enough that he can see her eyes aren’t fully a dark brown, but have lighter specks around the iris, looking almost like scattered golden dots. He’s seen this a million times before, but not in the last three years. It’s enough to draw a shaky chuckle out of him as he retreats, leaning his back against the wall underneath the shelves.

‘I’m glad to see you again, Kie,’ he admits. He can’t think of a world in which he isn’t, but he wants her to hear it, still. ‘The world looks good on you.’

She flashes a smile, downing the last of her glass with a reaction equal to the first one. ‘You look good, too, JJ. I never would’ve thought that I’d find you here, of all places.’

‘In a Kook bar?’ His voice is quieter, as there’s people chatting away in some parts of the bar. If it were any quieter, he wouldn’t have risked saying it. ‘I have to assimilate so I can steal the money from the rich.’

‘I see you haven’t changed.’ It’s a light taunt, one that comes with a dose of admiration, and JJ happily takes it as a compliment.

‘They’ve got more than enough money. Put on a smile,’—he stretches his face into the kindest fake smile he can muster—‘listen to some of their troubles, and they’re at your feet.’

‘I’m glad that you’ve still got your charm.’

‘I’ve mastered it.’

Kie rewards him with a genuine laugh, one that he hasn’t heard in too long, and he feels excitement bubbling in his chest. She hasn’t laughed quite so freely in… ever, probably. He doesn’t think the last time he’s seen her with her shoulders fully relaxed, a constant genuine smile on her face, and the ease with which she carries herself now.

He meant it when he said that travelling the world suits her.

‘Anyway,’ she says. ‘I assume your customers are going to require your attention soon, and mine is required by my parents, who must be eager to see me back home.’

‘You haven’t been home yet?’

‘No.’ Her voice goes low again and her tongue runs over her bottom lip, her eyes wandering before settling back on JJ. ‘I needed a… whiskey.’

For a moment, he thought she must’ve been as surprised as he was to find him here. If all she wanted was a whiskey and got a friend she hadn’t seen in years… But then he saw the nervousness in the gentle twitch of her lips, and the expectance of someone being in on an inside joke, and he clocked it.

His chest heaves with a sigh, and he lets out the tension that managed to build up in the half a second his brain went into overdrive. ‘Just a whiskey.’

‘Just a whiskey.’

We don’t talk about how we feel, he remembers one of Pogues saying once, when they were younger. We do things for each other and we say things that mean other things, but we’re never direct.

It must’ve been Pope, because JJ remembers himself saying, It’s tough love, bub.

What feels like a century later, they’re still behaving the very same way. It’s the Pogue thing. Except they’re adults now, all of them barely in contact with each other anymore, and maybe that behaviour is better left in the past.

JJ reaches forward and covers Kie’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly. ‘You’ve got this. If it doesn’t go well, give me a call.’

‘Thanks.’ Her thumb brushes the inside of his and she gives him a smile that makes him think that maybe nothing has changed, after all. ‘I’m definitely going to need a couple of drinks after that.’

‘My place is still back on the Cut, but I’ve got plenty of drinks for a night of catching up.’

‘Like the good old days,’ she says, and he echoes the words with a knowing smile on his face.

He doesn’t care about the customers when Kie leaves. He doesn’t care about the old guy who always comes in and gives him shit for not giving him enough to drink, and always tries to get some for free – he doesn’t care about any of it. His phone is in his pocket and he only cares about when it’s going to buzz, when the second-hand watch on his wrist will show it’s 8 pm, when he’ll be able to get home and make it a little neater before she comes back.

It’s one of his best and worst shifts. His mind keeps taking him back to her hand being in his, to their eyes locking, and he feels like he’s still sixteen, still hiding his feelings, still wishing the best for her and knowing he’s not it.

Maybe things will be simpler now. They’re not kids anymore, and maybe that’s the one thing that will make it all more bearable.

★

She appears out of nowhere, unannounced, knocking on his door like she’s trying to break it down. JJ guesses it’s just her thing now.

He opens the door and she scoots past him with a muttered thanks before her mouth starts working a mile a minute and her voice fills out the entirety of JJ’s modest apartment, and he’s a little overwhelmed.

‘Kie.’

She turns on her feet, chest heaving as she catches her breath. ‘Yeah?’

‘Calm down for a second.’ He closes the door and locks it, walks over to the living room (that is also the kitchen and the dining room and the guest bedroom) and plops down on the couch, waiting until she does the same. ‘What happened? And slow down this time so I can actually pay attention.’

Kie nods, opens her mouth, then closes it. She throws a glance in the direction of the kitchen. ‘You want a beer?’

‘You’re asking me if I want a beer in my own house?’

‘Mhm.’ The next moment, she’s on her feet, and her head is in the fridge. She comes back to the couch with two beers, throwing one in his direction. ‘Needed one, figured you’d need one, too.’

A sigh falls from JJ’s lips before he gets to stop it. ‘That bad?’

‘That bad.’

He leans into the couch as the two open their beers and he doesn’t take his eyes off of his friend; she hasn’t started talking yet, which probably means she’s trying to think of what to say, and he likes to have a moment to prepare himself.

When she came over for the first time, about three days ago, the two managed to mend most of what was broken by time and distance. It was a long night of catching up and he got to learn quite a bit about her adventures in Thailand and Bali, primarily, and she got to learn about what it feels like to work two jobs, one on the Cut and one in Figure Eight. Their experiences were vastly different, but they boiled to the same outcome – growing up. Understanding the world a little better.

They’ve seen each other at least once every day since, and soon enough, it was like she never left. They went to the beach yesterday, did some surfing, then crashed a party at the Boneyard for a little bit before they ended up back at his place, both falling asleep on the stretched-out couch.

It was like it had been before she left, but JJ knew it wouldn’t last. They aren’t teenagers anymore.

This is why he waits for her to figure her things out, and then she spills the beans: her parents want her to stay on the island. With them.

‘It’s not like they don’t care about what I want,’ she says, not quite looking at JJ, but rather past him. He wonders if she’s looking at the derelict building right across the street, because that’s the only thing visible from the window. ‘They just don’t get it.’

‘Do you want to keep travelling?’

Outside, a hawk chittered not far from the apartment.

When Kie brings her eyes up to meet JJ’s, he sees the discomfort in them; the insecurity. ‘No,’ she says, quietly, ‘but I don’t know what I want. Just…’

‘Just not the island.’

There’s a moment of silence. ‘Yeah.’

JJ shuffles across the couch until his arm is over Kie’s shoulder and he pulls her into a half-hug. Her hair still smells like coconut, but also like something else, now. The same and different. ‘I get it, Kie. I really do. I would do the same if I could.’

‘You’re not mad?’ she asks, nestling her head in the crook of his neck; JJ tries not to shiver at the contact. ‘You will be alone again.’

‘I didn’t expect you to stay, Kie,’ he admits. ‘I thought you’d be around for a few days and then leave, because I know how much you hate this place. I’d never let you stay. I just— I couldn’t. It’s not right.’

‘I just hate it, you know. The idea of you here, all alone.’

‘I’m not all alone, though. I’ve got a life here. I belong here more than any of you do.’

His hand gives her shoulder a gentle rub, and then he’s got the tips of her hair wrapped around his fingers, twirling them around. He’s not alone, he tells himself – there have been plenty of girls sharing the bed with him for the night. He talks to people at work, some people greet him on the street and he’s known them for the entirety of his life.

He doesn’t like it here, but it’s where he’s meant to be.

There always has to be a Maybank on the Cut.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kie says.

JJ doesn’t look at her, because he hears the way her voice got caught up in her throat, and he doesn’t want to risk seeing her crying. It’ll break him. ‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for,’ he tells her instead, because he has an inkling of what this could be about.

‘I do. We all— we all left and didn’t look back.’

‘Pope comes home,’ argues JJ. ‘I see him sometimes.’

‘Three times in three years.’

He doesn’t say anything to that, because he doesn’t have anything to say that would make her feel better, and the last thing he wants is to make the situation worse.

‘It’s fine, Kie,’ he tells her. A group of people walks underneath the window and JJ feels the need to slam it shut, but then the heat would burn them alive. Even sitting so close to her is a sacrifice he’s making, because his body heat keeps going up, and he feels his fingers becoming sticky.

It shouldn’t matter. They’ve always been gross around one another. It’s the Pogue way.

‘Look, I’m my own person, okay? I love the Pogues, I love our little group, but we don’t live for each other. You’ve got your life, I’ve got mine. That’s what happens when you grow up.’

‘You grow apart,’ she says, and the words send a lump into his throat.

In that moment, JJ finds himself wishing he had more than Kie to hold on to. His head drops backwards, first, and he takes a deep breath as his eyes blink away the tears. He can be level-headed in tough situations. He had to learn that in the past couple of years.

He feels Kie stiffen on his chest, her fingers tugging at one another in his lap. Usually, he’s the fidgety one. Usually, he’s the one fumbling with words. Usually, he’s the having to pull himself together.

When he lets his eyes close and rests his chin atop of Kie’s head, it’s an instinct rather than a decision. His hand drops from her hair until he’s pulling her into himself, feeling her body wrapped up within him.

If he could shield her from the world, he could. He can only shield her from himself.

He damns the heat welling up in his throat and holds her close, still.

‘You’re always going to have a home with me,’ he tells her. His thumbs rub her skin and he feels her press into him, her body quivering ever so slightly. ‘No matter how long we don’t see each other for, or if we don’t talk in years. If we have a falling out or some other shit happens. None of that matters. If you need me, I’ll come. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be right where you can find me.’

Kie doesn’t sob, but her body shakes and he bites his own lip. The lump in his throat let him say those words, but it’s choking him now.

He meant every word he said, though. That’s the only thing that matters.

(JJ isn’t quite the one for finding the words for how he feels. John B is the only Pogue who could manage that with ease, with his grandiose acts of love for Sarah and whatnot. But this is Kie – she’s been one of his best friends for years and she knows his way with words and avoiding the truth. There’s no hiding from that.

Not like he meant to hide, anyway. He doesn’t need to tell her his heart has belonged to her for a long time now, but he can tell her she’s got a home in it.)

Kie stirs against his chest; he sees the green shirt has turned several shades darker in tiny circles, where her head had been.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

She pulls away from him, staring ahead, where the TV is propped up on a stool made from pieces of an old wooden chair that had broke when JJ first moved in. She seems transfixed on it – is this how she sees JJ, maybe? Something that was meant for a purpose it was no longer fit for, then repurposed to keep living, to keep surviving in a world that’s against him?

Maybe that’s how she saw herself, too. JJ certainly does. She’s sturdier than most people he’s met and it’s one of the things he admires about her the most.

JJ runs a hand along her back, rubbing gentle circles. He doesn’t think about anything other than she deserves someone to care for her. When she looks at him, there’s a smile in the corners of her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘JJ?’

‘Yeah?’

Kie gives him a long gaze, shaking her head to herself before she parts her lips again. ‘You know how when we were younger, I said that I’d always live every day like it was last?’

He nods. It was shortly after the fiasco with the El Dorado – he couldn’t just forget that. ‘You said no regrets.’

‘And when I left, I thought I had none.’ She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her fingers are still pulling at the ring – she’d got it at a monastery in Nepal, allegedly a family heirloom from one of the monks she met there. She doesn’t look at him when she speaks. ‘It was great, at first. The freedom was like fresh air. It was all I ever wanted.’

I know, he wants to say, you’ve told me this already. But he keeps quiet, still, because her tone wasn’t light.

‘I got bad, though. Sometimes I would just stay up, realising how far from home I was. I just felt like if something happened to me, it would take ages to get back to my family, to you. It wasn’t homesickness, it was kind of… I was aware of my mortality in a really weird way. I thought I was okay with that before I left, I thought I’d made peace with everything.’

He catches her glance at him out of the corner of her eye and he tries offering her a smile, but it doesn’t really work.

She tells him, then – she tells him all of it. The loneliness, the feeling of being completely lost and misguided, to the feeling of being fooled into believing that travelling the world could let her make sense of things that confused her at home. Some of it got cleared, but most of it got more clouded, instead. There were good days, but the bad days nearly outshined the good when she’d start thinking about things.

Kie tells the story in a hushed voice, almost as if she’s scared that the passersby could hear her words through the window, when JJ could barely hear them himself. His hand never lets go of her back, but he stops moving it and just holds it there. More than anything, he wants to wrap his arms around her, but he can tell she needs the space.

He knows this is headed somewhere, yet the more she talks about it, the less he understands.

Until, that is, she finally looks at him and says, ‘When things were the hardest, you were the one who got me out of it.’

How? he means to ask, but it isn’t his turn. Kie’s eyes are pointed and she’s not finished yet. ‘Before I left, you told me you believed in me, and the whole world’s waiting for me to explore it, and it was the only thing that I could think of and fall asleep after it. I kept wishing you’d come with me, instead, and I couldn’t stop wondering why I hadn’t asked you to come.’

‘Even if you had, it wouldn’t have been an option,’ he reminds her. ‘I was broke, had to stay here. I’m not the guy who goes backpacking around the world.’

‘What if you are?’ she asks and for the first time, JJ thinks he can really hear the lump in her throat, the stiffness of her voice. ‘What if we could’ve… I was an idiot when I left, JJ.’

JJ aches to lean over and reach her, yet he keeps himself glued to the couch. What do you say to this? How do you act? His heart keeps beating in expectation and not even the chatter outside the window can do anything to help.

‘I was confused,’ she says. ‘I was a kid. I was dumb. I was running away from everything this place had to offer, and I didn’t realise that included you.’

‘You didn’t run away from me, Kie.’

‘What if I did?’ She looks at him and he sees determination in her eyes, in the tightness of her lips, in the way her neck tenses. ‘I kept feeling and thinking things I couldn’t explain and definitely shouldn’t have been feeling. Travelling the world sounded better than trying to confront all of it. Except that backfired, because I had to stop travelling because I couldn’t keep ignoring it.’

Here’s the thing with the Pogues – they don’t say what they mean.

JJ feels the weight of her words, but can’t quite piece them together to solve the puzzle. He stares at her in expectation, instead, waiting for something that doesn’t come. Her eyes are trained to his and her lips slightly parted, as if she’s waiting on him, too.

JJ gets up and grabs himself a beer from the fridge, throwing her one, too. He walks a few steps to the left until he’s in the kitchen area of the room, and grabs a bag of heavy salted crisps from the cupboard. He hands it to her and she takes it without a word, no longer looking at him, but still expecting. Waiting.

They’re waiting on each other. Oddly, JJ feels like they’ve been doing the dance far longer than he thinks.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Kie.’

She pulls her lips into her mouth, before saying: ‘Anything.’

And JJ feels a new weight on his shoulders.

Kiara Carrera has always fit in his life. She has never been the central point herself, but the Pogues were his life for the majority of it, and she was one of them. A life without them, and without her, wasn’t much of an exciting life.

He remembers when she first came and he kept calling her the Kook princess, until Sarah Cameron turned out to be everything they joked Kie was. He always thought it was odd how easily she fit with the three boys, with the Cut – if someone looked at her, with her little headband, cropped tops and tie-dyed everything, they’d never guess she grew up on Figure Eight.

She fit in his apartment, too. Somehow. Another crop top, another pair of jean shorts, another headband keeping her hair out of her face. She’s changed but she hasn’t. And this is a place that is falling apart, costing just enough so he can call it a decent apartment and still get to save for something better, eventually.

Not that there is anything remotely better on the Cut. JJ likes to dream, too.

And she’s in a lot of those dreams.

‘Kie, I just— I don’t know what you want me to say. Or do,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What do you want to do?’

So much, is the answer, but so is nothing.

He’s seen the look on her face before, more than once, in memories that kept him up at night. The replay of the curve of her Cupid’s Bow, of the way her lips are slightly pursed, in the tremor he can see from her baby hairs shaking.

Kiara, looking at him like there’s nothing else worthy of looking at.

JJ puts his beer on the counter and walks up to her, cups her face, and kisses her.

★

As a man stumbles his way out of the bar with one of JJ’s coworkers holding a firm hand on his back, JJ finds himself wondering why in the hell he’s decided to work in the one place that alcoholics frequent, and isn’t a casino. He’s thought about this before and the conclusion is always the same – it’s about seeing that people can get drunk, abuse alcohol, and still be semi-decent people.

Even from his grave, Luke Maybank’s hold on his son never wavers.

It’s what he thinks about when things are shit. When he’s shit. And without hearing from Kiara for nearly two whole days now, JJ’s legs shake with every step he takes.

He thinks that seeing her would fix everything, but when she finally walks into the bar, his knees threaten to give in.

She calls his name and he glances around, but his boss is elsewhere, so he tells her to sit down.

‘Whiskey again?’

Kiara shakes her head.

‘A beer, then? I’ve got your favourite.’

‘I’m here for you, JJ.’

He pours her some of her favourite beer, anyway. On the house. ‘My shift finishes in an hour. You can wait, or I can pick you up—’

‘I’ll wait.’ She takes the beer and puts a few bills on the counter. ‘I’ll be in the back.’

Her steps are steady and precise, and she sits down in the far back booth as if that was her intention all along. JJ knows her well enough to know she’s terrified, because Kiara is never this precise unless she fears that one wrong movement will crumble her.

He makes a note of not holding anything against her, whatever it is she’s here to talk about. He takes the bills she left, too, and slips them in his pocket, to return them to her later.

‘On the rocks,’ says a man to his right—a regular—and JJ’s back to being the bartender.

Every so often, he feels Kiara’s eyes on his back. Even as he speaks to the customers, he thinks of last night, of the way her limbs felt tangled with his. He looks a man in the eye as he charges him and all sees is her eyes rolling in pleasure, her mouth full of little sighs, little gasps.

His hands drop to the wooden bartop and he feels his palm flat against his wall, stabilising him as he thrusts. Kiara’s moans and wandering hands. Kiara’s mouth where he needed her most, his own making her feel good in return.

‘You’re two dollars short,’ says the customer.

‘Sorry.’ JJ reaches into the till and takes out two dollars. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Sure seems like it. Look after yourself, kid.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Yet all he can think about is how it’s the best night he’s had in years, if not ever.

Kiara still sits in the back booth, killing time with her phone and occasional glances at JJ. There’s nothing on her face to show she’s going through the same, but JJ bets she is – he knows her well enough.

Even though she rushed out in the morning with her hair still a mess from his hands running through it, he knows it was just as earth-shattering for her as it was for him.

JJ bids his farewell to his coworkers. They’re good kids – even though JJ’s only a year or two older, he feels like there’s a decade between them. They’re Kook kids, somehow unaware of his past, and JJ envies their innocence.

Kiara’s still on her phone when he approaches her. ‘Fancy getting out of here?’

She slips her phone into her pocket and is leading him out of the joint before he wraps his head around it. ‘I want to go somewhere.’

‘Somewhere as in a specific place?’

‘Yeah. You got your bike?’

JJ taps her shoulder, pointing at the employee car park. In the middle of it is his trusted dirt bike, one that’s gotten him out of shit more times than he’d like to admit.

She lets out a breathy laugh. ‘I missed that thing.’

‘It missed you, too.’

They hop on like they’ve done a million times before. Kiara wraps her arms around his waist with no hesitation and he feels her cheek pressed against his shoulderblade – if he wore a tank top, they’d be skin against skin.

Again.

JJ revs the engine. ‘Where to, Ma’am?’

‘The Chateau.’

All JJ tries to focus on is her arms around him, but he shudders anyway.

Nobody’s been to the Chateau since the fire all those years ago. JJ’s hardly even thought about it. With no one to look after the place, the wooden boards would’ve turned to ruin by now. All the Pogue memories they made would be turned to dust – does he even remember them, anymore?

Kiara squeezes him a little harder – just enough to hold him together to the Chateau.

As he thought, the place is a ruin.

‘It’s kind of beautiful,’ Kiara says.

He looks at her as if she’s crazy—she must be—but then he sees the admiration, the longing, the nostalgia in her eyes, and tries to see it the way she does. Vines climb what’s left of the house and there’s moss where windows would’ve been. The ash has been washed away by rain and he can see traces of the original colour on the surviving base.

Kiara takes a few steps forward until she’s standing on the ruin, balancing herself with a smile. ‘This is where the front porch was.’

JJ just stares. She doesn’t stop, though – she walks to the left and says that’s where the swing used to be, and that was where the couch was, and suddenly JJ starts seeing all those things, as if someone were building the house from the ashes.

He joins in on the game. ‘That’s where I used to sleep. That’s where Pope got hit in the head by a can that one time.’

The Chateau came to life and the memories rushed back as if they were never gone. Within minutes, the two were laughing as if no time had passed. As if things hadn’t turned to ruin and as if they hadn’t grown older. Grown apart.

It comes to an end, though. JJ offers her a hand to come down but she does it herself.

‘Oh,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘I forgot about this.’

He walks up next to her and sees it: the tree with John B’s name carved into it. A memory from a bad time – when they thought they’d lost him. When it was just JJ, Kiara and Pope. Left to fend for themselves, not knowing whether their friend was alive or dead.

JJ swallows the lump in his throat. His arm finds Kiara’s shoulder and he pulls her closer, and she wraps both arms around his waist.

‘I’m glad that wasn’t the end,’ he says. ‘But it was hell. Thinking he was lost.’

‘We nearly lost him,’ Kiara says in the softest voice.

‘But we didn’t. That’s all that matters.’

He doesn’t want to say that in a way, they still lost him – to Sarah and the Bahamas, like they lost Pope to college.

JJ laughs a dry laugh. ‘Never thought we’d be the last two Pogues.’

‘With a burnt-down Chateau behind our backs.’

‘Exactly. Funny how life turns out.’

Her hands drop back to her pockets; the absence of her body against his feels like an unwanted breeze.

She looks at him like she’s about to say something. JJ decides against interrupting, and instead looks towards the pier – there’s no light on it and it’s already getting dark, but he wants to go there. Get away from the Chateau and its scorched past.

So his clammy hand takes hold of Kiara’s and they walk down the pier, listening as the wooden boards creak. Some things remain the same. Kiara squeezes his hand.

She doesn’t let go of it when they reach the end, with nothing but marsh in front of them. Sun sets on the other side of the property and they’re watching the sky bask in shades of deep blue, and JJ sits down with Kiara following suit.

Her fingers tap the wood. ‘I don’t want to live with regrets.’

‘Okay?’

‘Is it? What we did last night?’ she asks, facing him straight-on. ‘A regret?’

‘No.’ JJ doesn’t even hesitate. ‘It was the one thing that could never regret.’

She smiles, ever so slightly, and he feels the tension in his shoulders ease. Carefully, he covers her hand with his own, and she lets him take it into his lap.

‘Kie.’

‘Yeah?’

JJ takes a deep breath.

He’s thought about this moment for a long time – over a decade, really. Almost two. He’s thought about what he’d say, given the chance, and there was a grandiose speech somewhere in the back of his mind… but this is different.

He never accounted for sleeping with Kie before confessing his feelings.

‘You know when I said I’d be there when you came back? When you were leaving?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I meant every word,’ he says. He gives her hand a squeeze and musters up a tiny smile, but he still can’t look her in the eye. ‘I made the promise to wait for you. Hell, I would’ve waited for you till the world ended if I had to. And I still will. I always will.’

His eyes finally meet hers and – she’s crying. Moonlight reflects off the tears and he’d call her beautiful if he wasn’t in the middle of this.

Of them.

‘My home is with you, Kie. I can stay on the island for as long as I want, but if you’re not here, it’s not…’ He brings his hand to her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb. ‘No matter how many times you leave, I’ll be there. Ready to take you back.

He watches the shine in her eyes drop to his lips and then he’s got her own pressed against them, her hands holding his face. It’s gentle, unlike the passionate kiss they had the other night, and he feels her breath on his lips. She moves back, but her hands cradle his face, still.

‘How did it take us this long to get here?’

JJ laughs. ‘I was just another guy, Kie. You had half the island trying to get with you.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘It is,’ JJ says. ‘I just didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want you to have the burden of rejecting me, because our friendship would’ve… I don’t think it would’ve lasted. And I’d rather have you as a friend than tell you have I feel you and lose you.’

‘You wouldn’t have lost me,’ she whispers. Her thumb glides across his cheek and he leans into her palm.

‘I didn’t know.’

‘You never tried.’

JJ sighs, then kisses the inside of her palm. ‘Even if I did, Kie, I was the guy from the wrong side of the island. A Maybank, at that. I wouldn’t have been good enough. You deserved better than whatever I could’ve been.’

She shakes her head to the point he feels her whole body trembling with the movement. ‘I never thought that way, JJ.’

‘But I did,’ he says. ‘And even if you liked me back, I wouldn’t have been able to get over that. I wouldn’t have thought that something that good could happen to someone like me.’

Her hands are gentle and he tries to relax, even though his own are gripping the back of her shirt.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. The water is still, but he can hear movement – despite the death of the Chateau, life around it went on. JJ finds some comfort in that – their lives, too, went on.

One of Kiara’s hands is dropped to his thigh, caressing it. ‘I wouldn’t have rejected you, you know.’

JJ lets out a shaky breath. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

��Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

He laughs, dropping his head. ‘Well, I feel like a fool now.’

Kiara laughs, too, and he wishes he could bottle the sound. Her hand reaches under his chin and pulls it up. ‘We got there in the end.’

And then she’s kissing him again, with her arms wrapped around his neck.

JJ’s finally getting to kiss Kiara with no fear, no holding back, no worries that they’d come to regret it, and the world doesn’t stop. The world keeps spinning, and somehow that’s even better.

If you told JJ from a decade ago that he’d be making out with Kiara at the Chateau pier, he would’ve called you crazy. But she’s in his hands, her skin is on his fingertips as he slips his hand underneath the back of her top, and she tastes like her favourite beer. She’s warm and smells lovely and her teeth are grazing his lip and god, JJ feels like he’s won the lottery.

He wants this. All of it. Everything.

He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to stop kissing her and have to go back to his house, to his two jobs, to living the measly life he’s had for the past few years – how could he do that, after getting a taste of what he could’ve had? Of what could’ve been?

So kisses her fervently, ferociously, like a starved man.

He’s not letting her go this time. Not without knowing she’s coming back.

His hands are firm as he pulls her even closer, his kisses shifting to her neck, her hands reaching under her shirt. His skin is on fire with her touch and he craves it, and he nearly pushes them over the pier as he tries to get her to lie down.

‘Kie,’ he breathes between the kisses to her stomach, making his way up her chest.

‘Yeah?’

‘I fucking love you.’

JJ kisses her before she gets a chance to respond, and he knows this is a drug he’s already addicted to.

The sun is long gone and JJ holds Kiara’s hand as they sit on the pier. They’ve both come back to their senses and the world is quiet now, patient. Falling asleep. Kiara’s head is leaned on JJ’s shoulder and his arm is wrapped around her waist, his thumb caressing the skin just underneath her waistband.

For the past half-hour or so, they’ve been talking about all the times they missed the signs. Both of them did, even though JJ thought he’d made it obvious – from little comments to grand gestures that were misread, and it’s hilarious, now. It wouldn’t have been if things turned out differently, but neither of them goes there.

They talk about their lives, too. JJ tells her more about her coworkers and his appreciation for them and she listens, not interrupting him once.

JJ kisses the top of her head, still in disbelief that he can. ‘What’s on your mind?’

She doesn’t respond right away. She nuzzles into him, instead, and he spreads his palm to cover as much of her as he can.

‘I’m staying on the island,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘I’m staying here. On Kildare.’

‘Why? Kie—’

‘Listen.’ She moves away to look him in the eye – even in the darkness, JJ can see the determination. ‘I want to be with you. That’s all. But I’m not— I know how much the island means to you. I can’t take that away from you. I won’t. If that means staying here—’

‘No.’

‘JJ—’

‘I said no.’ He runs his hands through his hair, tugging it slightly at the ends. ‘Kie, this is not happening. You’re being ridiculous. I stayed behind because I never had a reason to leave. Because everyone else left, and someone had to stay behind, for when you’d come home. I promised to be here.’

He cups her face and looks her straight-on, not caring about the wetness underneath his fingertips. ‘The island isn’t a home, Kie, not if you’re not here. You are.’

All she manages is a whisper of his name. He kisses her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. She says his name again but he shakes his head, kissing her once more.

‘Wherever you go, I’ll follow.’ He kisses her again. ‘If you’ll let me. If you don’t go where I can’t follow.’

‘I would never,’ Kiara says, and he’s kissing the salt on her lips. ‘But your life—’

‘I’m tired of the island, anyway. I never had to reason to leave but now I do, and I’ve got money saved up, and I’m ready, Kie. I’m ready to do this.’

She looks at him and she’s smiling again, even though her cheeks are glistening; he resists the urge to kiss them dry. ‘You’re ready?’

‘You took a leap of faith all those years ago and it led you here,’ he says, smiling right back. ‘This is my leap of faith.’

Kiara wraps her arms around him and curls into him; JJ knows she can hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest and doesn’t care.

This was his biggest leap of faith. He’d never in a million years he’d be here, so who’s to say anything else he’s believed in is certain, either? He’s got friends and a life on the island but he’d never be anything but a Maybank here, with scolding looks waiting for him at every corner. If he left—with Kiara—he’d get to be more. He’d get to choose.

Kissing Kiara was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Anything else… It only seems natural to go where she goes. To never have to wait for her again but if he has to, he will. Forever, if that’s what it takes. He’s already done the scariest thing, so why not do this, too?

‘I love you, too, JayJ.’

And just like that, JJ’s future rewrites itself.

#jiara #jiara fanfic #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #my fic #half of this was written in 2020 and half like. yesterday #can you tell #also reposting bc i posted with the wrong title and for some reason couldn't change it

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designernishiki · 2 years ago

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I saw your post where you said something like «Kiryu and Mayumi slept in the same bed for six months» and... I kina doubt it. This bed is too small for two people, it hardly accommodates Kiryu, given his size. So she was probably either sleeping on the floor or sleeping somewhere else.

For some reason I always thought that she didn't live with him at all, just came there from time to time. If you look at the apartment where Kiryu lives, you can see that there are only his things there and no other things. And I don't remember exactly, but Mayumi's profile at the beginning of the game says something like «she's disappointed that their relationship won't get off the ground» or something like that. So, yes, the poor girl was desperate for him while he was in his le gay depression phase.

okay so I was waiting to answer this until I started legit playing 5 so I could have a bit more context and whatnot and now I have done that and hdhxjcjdjv boy do I have a lot of thoughts. warning: this is kinda long.

so I can clarify now that– yeah– they weren’t actually living together technically, she would just come over a lot and spend the night there regardless of his opinion on it (which typically was “you should go home” or “you should stay at your own place for once” no im not just being mean, those are both almost word-for-word). she does have slippers there by the door that denote she’s there often, but his apartment’s pretty barren overall, which to me says less about her being around or not, and more about him probably only going home when he needs to sleep or runs out of things to do, not hanging around there much otherwise– he’s got no books, no radio, nothing. just an ashtray on the table. It’s safe to say it’s not a place he enjoys being in.

And yeah, it’s bizarre how many people say “kiryu had a girlfriend for six months” despite her profile and kiryu himself in dialogue stating… kind of the opposite? ie; that they were not a couple, kiryu was disinterested in her, and their lack of a relationship/kiryu’s lack of interest was frustrating to her. She was never his girlfriend despite her giving her all to get him to budge, and that’s kind of an important part of the dynamic.

(here’s her character profile for reference.)

As for the bed thing… honestly I’ve got no idea how that worked. cause you’re totally right, that bed is SMALL– relatively small for kiryu alone let alone two people, and she wasn’t legit living there so obviously she didn’t have her own room or anything. so my bet’s either that there was a futon that could be rolled out, since that’s pretty common in japan, or that she slept kinda cuddled up close to him and he just sort of laid there stiffly not really sure what to do about it– probably wearing him down with the good ol “well there’s only one bed and I wouldn’t want either of us to have to sleep on the floor…” one night, and she took that and ran with it from then on. either way, also of note, whenever she was around (or could show up at any time) he wore a full sweatsuit, even while in bed. yeah you could blame it on it being winter and all, but come on man who he hell wears a sweatshirt and sweatpants to bed. I think he was just genuinely uncomfortable with the idea of being unclothed in close quarters with her.

it seems like he wasn’t sleeping much in the first place anyway, so I don’t doubt he’d end up slipping away and falling asleep either on the floor or at the table or whatever at times. we know he’s not a big fan of being touched and cuddled or whatever when he doesn’t want it/by almost anyone, so I think it’d just be an ongoing losing battle between not wanting to be too harsh or rude, and preserving his own comfort and boundaries. as an autistic guy who’s particular about his sleeping conditions and necessary privacy myself, it kind of sounds like a nightmare not gonna lie.

anywho. I don’t wanna sound too negative towards mayumi as a character or anything, but it’s pretty straightforward that she was imposing on him quite a bit and did go beyond his boundaries at a time when he was especially emotionally vulnerable– and he let her in because she was in a place of vulnerability, at least so he thought. there’s plot reasons for her persistence in being there to an extent, and maybe that’s why she didn’t take the very very obvious hint that he was not interested in her and not just playing hard to get (is it really a hint when he tells her directly to her face? whatever you get it)

#long post #rambling #kiryu #y5 #mayumi #sorry this is a LOT #I just. was watching the details very carefully when I started the game so I have a lot to analyze #really doesn’t take any analysis though to know that she was absolutely not his girlfriend though like literally why do people say that all #the time. did they play the game. because he rejects her multiple times and it’s written right there in her profile. are people just that #insistent on proving he’s into women. I don’t know man #the bed thing really is a mystery. it’s anyone’s guess #but no matter what you know the man was wearing FULL SWEATS shahshafjdjhs

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awrldalone · 1 year ago

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4th September 2023

Today I finished moving into my new apartment. It took a few days, but now I think I have finally settled. A lot has happened in the months since my previous entry, almost a whole year has passed – I stopped writing because everything felt so repetitive, and constantly talking about it made me feel stuck in this murky whirlpool of cold days and aimless studying. I was drowning in myself, repeating the same words, complaining about the same problems. Endlessly.

I felt like a stick of wood stuck in the river current, an abandoned lighthouse in the storm.

Typing does not come as easy now. Documenting everything paralyzes me. Part of me feels betrayed: how dare I write about what I did today when there is no record of yesterday, of the months from February to August? I dare.

I visited a Musée Cernuschi today. It is an impressive collection of Asian art, mainly from China and Japan and Vietnam, collected by one of those nineteenth century rich French men. The sheer size of some of the sculptures stunned me. An extremely detailed bronze dragon, which was an incense burner, a winding tiger covered in some golden metal and an enormous statue of buddha got all of my attention, but the pottery was also, simply, pretty. Mundane things have a right to be pieces of art – in an ideal world a small bowl should be no less beautiful than Botticelli's Madonna della Melagrana. For this reason I have been struggling to buy things, stuff for my apartment.

It's a small room at the sixth floor of a beautiful old building, no elevator. I can see the roofs of Paris from my window. I am living in Paris now and it feels... odd. Some might say it feels like a dream, but everything feels so real, material, concrete. It's not perfect, and i know that living here will be hard, but it's better.

Moving has not gone smoothly, I had to take care of a lot of things, like signing an electricity contract and changing the washing machine and cleaning for hours, but now I'm here, on my bed, listening to music from my phone and trying not to use up all my internet data before I get WIFI installed.

–

February I got back together with my boyfriend. Everything is still so complicated, but right after I went back to Maastricht I left, without telling anyone, not even my parents, and I flew all the way to Lyon with only a few sweaters and my history of law textbook in my bag. I spent a few days with him, and everything was perfect again.

Then, during carnival we went to the mountains together. He tried to teach me how to ski, and I failed miserably, falling in the snow countless times. His parents own a little apartment, furnished with a warm wood that makes it feel smaller than it is, but never claustrophobic. He got sick and I played doctor, but it was all just an excuse for him to skip his classes and for me to stay at his place.

In March, it was his turn to come. It was a snowy month, cold, not much happened– he stayed over for a weekend. I installed a DS emulator on his laptop and we played Pokémon instead of studying, and I started doubting everything again. I always doubt everything. I still don't know if it's meticulousness or an unnerving inability to let myself have good things. We made chocolate covered strawberries, but the chocolate was not tempered and the fruit was wet.

We saw each other about once a month. My old glasses broke as I picked them up after having washed my face. The frame split without a word or a warning, and one of the lenses fell to the ground.

Once, in April, he came to Venice as I went back home for a few days during Easter. At the end of the month I went all the way to Lyon by bus and train, stopping in Lille for a few hours. Lille is a peculiar city, it feels more Belgian than French, the only way to describe it is a city proud to have been built at the border between two countries.

After my university's MUN, in May, I took the bus again to Lille, and the train again to Lyon, because M.'s university was having an end of year party. Then, we did not see each other for a long time. I got into Sorbonne. I was waitlisted at first, and I spent a few days biting my nails at the library, among all the medicine students.

I took a train to Paris in June to look for an apartment. I spend a few weeks between Venice and Rome with a Korean friend of mine. I travelled through central Italy – Assisi and Firenze and Siena – with some friends.

A lot happened. A lot. But if I started writing down everything I would not be faithful to time. It irks me to see that the most eventful moments have been centered around my relationship. I am my own person, and the passage of my time should not be dictated by kisses. Love cannot be my metronome. I am not sure if I am happy to be in a relationship: Ce. and I talked about this a few weeks ago, in Florence, and we both agreed that making decisions while in high waters is always a bad idea. She was also in high waters, with her mouth under the waves. I need to let things fall into place before I can understand my feelings fully. Perhaps writing about them will help clear out my head. Perhaps I can't just wait for things to sort them out by themselves, I need to keep unraveling this ball of yarn just to roll it back up.

Ago ergo sum. Our mandate is to create.

-c.

#diary

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thundered-down-the-line · 2 years ago

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On Specific Engines: The Steam Team

(In which I talk a lot about minute details only I would give a shit about)

Many of these design choices are inspired by either bruhstation or ngng-tttelog! Check them out!

Thomas:

Short and stocky as a result of his side tanks (which take up space mostly on his shoulders and thighs! That's the general area for side tanks like him.)

He's actually even shorter than his model would have him be, which also means his tanks are a lot smaller than you would expect. He has to stop for water a lot as a result, but with his smaller size with no drop in power, he's very, very good at rapidly changing direction, which makes him GREAT at shunting! (And great at running into and subsequently running out of dumb situations before he gets himself hurt)

His hair is about neck-length and flares out just a little. You'd be hard-pressed to find him without his hat, but underneath he has a huge cowlick he has NEVER managed to get rid of. Not without trying, mind you. It's one of the reasons he insists on wearing the hat so often.

His coat isn't very long at all, and he frequently rolls up the sleeves on it. It's practically a hoodie. His pockets are almost certainly full of shiny rocks.

He has a tie like his coworkers. He will NEVER wear it properly. You know the rambo way of tying a tie around your head? He does it around his neck, at least. (His secret is that he doesn't actually know how to tie it himself.)

Overalls. Send tweet.

His number is in the middle of his chest.

Edward:

Shortest of the tender engines, and has the smallest tender as a result.

Thinner than you might think but simultaneously stronger than you'd expect from his shape.

His coat usually looks like a sweater. His tie is always tied perfectly. This does not mean he always ties it Normally.

Old Man Glasses Chain. He is Fucking Blind when they fall off but he's so good at telling the other engines apart just from their voices and general vibe and knows the rail lines so well that you'd be hard pressed to tell without interacting with him for a while.

Longer hair that's completely gray tied in a short ponytail.

Sudrian uniform standard is Blue with Red Accents and one of the ways Edward deals with this is that he has bright red "sneakers" (in that the feet of the engines are specially designed with their wheels but, you know. It's About Vibes).

No one really knows what his model is. A few people think he's some kind of modified K2 but he's so old and had so many parts swapped out and repaired and modified that genuinely no one can tell. He also won't tell you. It's a bit now and he's committed.

Henry:

Henry's list is about to be so much longer because of his two separate designs so here we go lmao

In his first iteration, he looked almost EXACTLY like Gordon, down to the lining on his coat and the height of his "boots" and he even kept his hair trimmed short. But there were a few key differences.

First: He was ever so slightly taller than Gordon, but you wouldn't be able to tell unless you stood the pair back-to-back and measured precisely, especially because Henry tended to hunch which made him look ever so slightly shorter.

Second: He didn't fill the coat out like Gordon did. Essentially the measurements of the uniform were made for an A1, and were made to be filled out by an A1 because they were big, and anything baggy or creased wouldn't look near as good. Henry, meanwhile, was not made to the same measurements, and thus if you looked closely at him you could see wrinkles in the shoulders or elbows or how the pants would sway more when he moved.

Third is a simple one, his hair is light brown! However since he (and Gordon) kept it cut so short it couldn't be guaranteed you could even spot that difference at a glance.

Once Henry got his blue coat it made telling Henry and Gordon apart even worse, and eventually Henry himself decided he wanted to swap back to green.

His small firebox manifests in this au as him seemingly struggling to be able to breathe. (Can't oxygenate heat up his blood water!)

Of course here we get to the crash of the Kipper and his rebuild. I'll probably make a separate post about the damages from the Kipper because I have a specific mental image of how that crash played out but for this post all it means is Rebuild Time!

After his rebuild Henry is now legitimately ever so slightly shorter than Gordon's height. It's still impossible to tell at a glance, though.

His uniform is still ever so slightly loose on his body, but it's clearly intentional now! (He doesn't like feeling constricted). He also tends to have his collar popped, as a bit of a style choice.

He's let his hair grow out! It's not super long but it's surprisingly fluffy.

You can also frequently find him with a flower or two pinned to him somewhere.

Gordon:

My man. Big boy. Largest engine on the island, he's tall and wide and you will notice him.

Very Insistent about keeping his uniform pristine and presentable.

Has a very specific tic where, when he's upset and lets off steam, he'll huff a small cloud out of his nose or mouth instead of his vents. Over time, Henry and James and even Thomas have picked up this tic. The newer engines have no idea that was originally Him, and even the older ones sometimes forget.

His overcoat does no wonders for making him less intimidating. My god does he look huge. However he doesn't actually insist on wearing it All The Fucking Time anymore.

Originally, as a prototype, he wore it Constantly because he insisted he had an image to maintain.

Nowadays his reputation precedes him enough that he can go without it sometimes. It's just as good, with how often people fuck around on the main line being able to swing his body out of the way or come to a stop much easier is pretty good.

Then again, the visible suspenders also make him look a lil goofy. This is why he doesn't really go out of his way to Not wear it.

Also speaking of coming to a stop! Gordon has a completely custom brake system! It's an absolutely super-charged monstrosity that even has its own emergency setting where it will jam an anchor in his heel directly into the ground to force him to a standstill. Coming to a sudden stop from speed sucks but it doesn't suck worse than running over some idiot who decided it would be a good idea to stand in front of the largest and fastest train on the island currently going full speed.

He has a hidden compartment inside his wrist. All it has in it is a little flat star welded together out of scrap metal. He isn't showing it to Anyone.

James:

The first thing you'd think of when looking at how James has dressed himself up is "damn. compensating much?" You would be correct.

This fucker is dressed in Bright Red with Black Lining and Gold Embroidery and he looks like a fucking medieval noble were it not for all the iron.

He has heels. Of course he does. It's actually a makeshift brake system/they're meant to dig into the ground (similar to Gordon's anchor system). Originally they were of course made of wood and we all know how that went.

(His black coat was NOWHERE near as extravagant. It was pretty generic, actually. He even had ratty overalls.)

Also has a short ponytail like Edward! But his hair is just a little longer and fluffier and if you didn't know he was an engine and the hair was fake you'd think he'd have an hour long shampoo+conditioner routine. Complete with gold hair tie.

His number is on his tender like the other tender engines but you could Swear it's more stylized than the others...

Would Rather Fucking Die than be seen without Any part of his uniform.

Would Rather Fucking Die than be seen with his uniform dirty.

Just don't fuck with his uniform, actually. (Said while living on Get Fucked Island)

Taller than Edward but still shorter than many other tender engines.

Percy:

Chubby! As a saddle tank engine his design wraps around his "stomach" and makes him look distinctly Roumd.

Kinda like Edward his original build is actually a bit of a mystery. He's clearly an Avonside, but as for what specific era or where he came from no one can really tell.

(He doesn't seem to remember, either...)

Curly hair! When he takes off his cap it distinctly poofs up.

Despite being a tank engine he's often seen with a large cargo bag on his back. It's an extra way to carry mail!

He's got overalls like Thomas, but his are brown instead of blue

He also doesn't know how to tie his tie but he very clearly Tries His Best every morning. It's endearing.

Number is on his shoulder!

Toby:

Y'all already know this man is shaped like a brick (affectionate)

Wears an old flat cap instead of a standard uniform hat.

Skirt! His cowcatchers are a long, black skirt that runs almost down to the ground, barely leaving his feet visible.

Grey hair cut completely straight just at the top of his neck

Also has glasses, but they're not quite as required as Edward's are. They're basically just reading glasses.

Parts of him are very clearly made out of wood, gives him a rustic look. He tends to play into it.

Because he's made of wood he genuinely just can't do many snappy movements.

Square pupils! This one is really hard to notice.

Original tie was black, now he wears a blue one.

Number is on his back!

#unnamed ttte au #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte henry #ttte gordon #ttte james #ttte percy #ttte toby

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genhernandez · 1 year ago

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Hey, look! It's GENEVIEVE HERNANDEZ. Did you know they WORK as a LAWYER at LEGAL LIGHTHOUSE ? I guess they're from NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK and have been in town for TWELVE MONTHS , living in HAWTHORNE HIDEAWAY. I also heard they're a little HARDHEADED, but also very GRACEFUL which definitely makes sense.

Born in the "city that never sleeps" to District Attorney Andre Hamilton and renowned stage actress, Eileen Debose, there was no doubt in the world that their little Genevieve would grow up to be anything less than 'ordinary'. Contrary to the stereotype place on those living in the dual-arenas of politics and the arts, Genevieve couldn't have asked for a more picture-perfect childhood. With no other siblings in tow, she was very easily the apple of her parents' eyes, especially her father's who always saw her as his perfect equal. The pair were inseparable, always going on trips together and sharing too many inside jokes, much to the amusement of the rest of the family.

It wasn't until Andre was let go from his esteemed position, after a string of scandals and allegations, that things weren't as idyllic as they first appeared. Turning to the only solace he could find; a bottle of aged whiskey or two, the Hamilton patriarch was a shadow of his former, doting self. The vocal battles between Genevieve's parents seemed to become a part of their almost daily routine. The fights always ended the same — with her father, regretting the venom in his words and promising to be better and her mother, tired and weary, vowing to leave. Months passed until it wasn't hard for the littlest Hamilton to feel like the loneliest girl in the world, immediately jumping into her studies as a means to escape.

College gave her a means to both hide away from the world and learn about it. She would spend most of her collegiate hours stalking the library's vast, spreading shelves in the hopes of somehow outdoing her father's legacy as well as dulling the darkness his downfall had caused. It was on a dreary Tuesday afternoon and on her usual quest, Genevieve tripped and fell, quite literally, head over heels for someone who looked unusually out of place amongst the law books of Honoré and Dickens. Shaking hands, he introduced himself as Cristian Hernandez.

With his cool, calm exterior, Genevieve was immediately entranced by his surprisingly gentle demeanour. To her, his outward features juxtaposed those inside, to her, he was exactly what she needed. Piece by piece, he collected her, he made her see her worth and seemed to love every inch of her and they were intoxicatingly happy. Naturally with this new and exciting plans for the happy couple; marriage, babies, careers. Months passed before the young moved into a small, shoebox-sized apartment, Genevieve could make peace with her decision of falling so hard and fast in love and she had to quickly as without a word as another wrench would be thrown into the works.

Sure enough, there came a call from her mother, her voice barely above a whisper and her tone mournful. It was her father. Despite his best efforts to make amends and cut back on the drinking for his family, it was his heart that finally betrayed the rest of his body and her mother found him in his favourite armchair, having passed away in his sleep.

Since her father's funeral, it seemed as if her life had changed forever. She had never felt alone yet so together with her family and Cristian by her side. They'd come through so much together, good and bad, and she was sure he was 'the One'. So it wasn't much of a surprise to anyone when wedding bells sounded and she could finally take his last name.

Before arriving in the picture-perfect town, Genevieve and Cristian had tried everything to finally achieve their goal of becoming parents and raising a family of their own, with no success until the couple decided to take things easier and not think about it for a little while. Sure enough, those little pink lines gave them everything they could possibly imagine and they were soon blessed with a beautiful baby boy, Samuel. Four years later, and completely surprised once again they were lucky enough to become parents again to another son, little Marcelino.

With her career flourishing and her family thriving, Genevieve couldn't ask for a happier, more picturesque town for her boys to grow up in. Though she can't mistake the feeling of wanting to expand their brood a little further, perhaps with a little girl like herself, who is the apple of her father's eye.

#kismetharbor.intro

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 years ago

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Red, White and Blue

Steve Rogers x plus size reader x Clark Kent

DC Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Steve Rogers and Clark Kent fall for the same girl, which golden boy will win her heart?

Warnings: not at all accurate medical descriptions, SMUT, little bit of angst, rivalry, so much fluff, mutant!reader, d/s dynamics, colour system, little bit of breeding kink, praise kink, little bit of degradation, unprotected sex (reader is on bc), two ds in one v, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering

Minors DNI

WC: 5.3k (I’m sorry, got carried away a bit)

It was the beginning of a new era, the Justice League and the Avengers had joined forces in an effort to create a safer world. It had been months in the making, with Steve Rogers and Kal-el leading the charge, each determined to make a group of superheroes that could help not only the world but also each other. It was no secret that each team on their own were struggling to keep up with the increased number of villains that seem to keep coming out of the walls.

Steve and Kal had become fast friends, their own interests overlapped. Which caused Batman and Tony an extreme amount of headaches with the two heroes fan-girling over each other. They were evenly matched in everything, Superman’s strength was only overcome by Captain America’s determination (or stupidity as Bucky called it). The pair blended so easily, it was clear to see that nothing could come between them.

Until she arrived.

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

With more fighting and battles, came more injuries, and after an incident where Clint nearly died while he and Diana were undercover, the team decided that they needed a healer.

Charles Xavier had recommended a young woman nicknamed “Apollo”. Her healing abilities worked quickly and could fix almost any ailment. Bruce Wayne had gone and picked her up from her apartment in Winchester county, New York. The car ride to the manor had been quiet, a mutual respect already in place between the pair.

“So um, how many people are part of your team?” Her voice was soft, inviting but he could sense the power behind it. “There’s a lot if I’m being honest, probably too many. The Justice League is significantly smaller than the Avengers. We are only made up of Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Aquaman, and Cyborg. The Avengers have almost three times that amount.” Her eyes went wide. “I don’t think I can heal that many people!” He chuckled. “No you don’t. A lot of people don’t actually need healing like Superman or Wonder Woman. You’ll only really need to deal with the non-immortal, non-superhuman people.” “Like you?” She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I will definitely need some healing.” She smiled and they settled back into silence.

Bruce opened the car door for her once he pulled up to Wayne manor. “We only have the Justice League here today, you’ll be able to meet the Avengers later on. I thought it was a good idea to do the small group first.” Y/N smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, I don’t know if I could’ve handled that many new people at once. It’s bad enough when new students arrive at the school. Wow, this place is incredible!”

“Thank you Ms Apollo, although it is no thanks to all the superheroes that come through and destroy everything.” An older man had greeted them in the entryway, glaring playfully at Bruce. “You can just call me Y/N, Apollo was just a stupid nickname a friend of mine gave me and I haven’t been able to shake it.” She took the man’s hand. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth.” “It’s lovely to meet you Alfred!” “All of the League are in the meeting room, if you would follow me.”

Clark was anxious about this healer they were bringing in. It was always tough adding a new person to the mix, all the trust involved in keeping their secret identities a secret, but they needed a healer desperately. He heard Bruce and Apollo enter the manor and braced himself when they rounded the corner into the room.

She didn’t look threatening. She was small, her e/c eyes were kind, her thick stomach and thighs gave her a soft appearance, inviting. She shyly waved at them. “Hi! I’m Y/N, you don’t need to call me Apollo, I find it a bit stupid actually. I feel like my name should’ve been Artemis, she’s cooler anyway.” Diana smiled brightly. “You are most certainly right!” She brought the shorter girl into a warm hug, “I like her.” Y/N’s face heated.

Arthur laughed, also pulling her into a hug. “Welcome to the team.” She beamed, Y/N knew Arthur was going to be one of her favourites, he reminded her a bit of Alex. Barry rushed over and quickly shook her hand. “Why is your name Apollo?” “Apollo is the god of medicine, he was the first doctor. And considering my abilities, it’s fitting.” “Can you show us!” He was practically vibrating with excitement. “None of you look injured though, and I don’t want to hurt someone just to show off.” That made Clark’s anxiety ease a bit.

“I got stabbed last night, you could use that.” Bruce lifted his shirt, making Y/N avert her eyes from his strong physique. “Um yeah, let me…” Her voice trailed off as she touched the cut delicately, the skin weaved itself back together and after a few seconds, it was good as new. “How exactly do your abilities work?” Bruce asked as he lowered his shirt again. “Well I absorb other people’s injuries, so they appear on my body and my super healing fixes them really quickly. See?” She lifted her own shirt, and in the exact place where Bruce was cut, there was a bleeding stab wound that was quickly healing. “Doesn’t that hurt?!” Barry touched the cut. “Oh yeah like a bitch but the pain goes away pretty quickly once I’m healed.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Bruce’s arms were crossed, he looked like a concerned father. Y/N shrugged. “Yeah it can be, especially if the injuries are more severe. The worst one I’ve ever healed was a kid at the school that fell while training their flying abilities and broke a lot of bones. I was in bed healing for two days after. And because of my super-healing, I can’t take pain medications so it wasn’t a great few days.” “Then why would you heal people if you just end up in so much pain?” Clark had finally stepped forward. She stuttered for a moment, he could hear her pulse race as he got closer, which made him smirk a bit.

“Well when I heal people, I’m only in pain for a short amount of time but if I left them, they would be in pain for a lot longer, possibly the rest of their lives if they did. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew there was something I could’ve done to help.”

“I have a feeling you’ll get along great with Supes over there.” Arthur chuckled, making Clark blush and Y/N giggle.

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

“Alright kids, we got the approval from the JL for the new healer. The cheap version of me is sending her over today so we can get to know her.” Tony pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and leaned back into his chair, pleased with himself. “You know we’re supposed to be making a good impression, she is the person that makes sure we live.” Natasha said while fiddling with her knife. “What time is she supposed get here?” Steve was leaning against the door frame, his beard neatly trimmed, which had gotten lots of teasing from Bucky, ‘who are you trying to impress punk’. “She should be here now.”

“A car has just pulled up boss. Apollo has been safely delivered.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chirped up. Pietro zoomed out of the room, the others following closely behind.

“Thank you so much for driving me Bruce, you didn’t have to do that.” Y/N took her bag from Bruce. “It was my pleasure Y/N. Besides it kept me out of the office for a few hours.” He smiled and kissed her cheek as a silver blur stopped right next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Hello Dragă!” He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Bruce just rolled his eyes. “I’ll get going, but give me a call anytime. The zeta tubes between the compound and the manor should be set up soon so you won’t need to drive back and forth. Good luck with these guys.” She gave him a brief hug before he stepped back in the car and drove off.

Y/N turned and smiled at the blonde man, raising her hand to shake his own. “Y/N.” “Pietro! Are you being rude!” A red haired woman stormed towards him, grabbing his ear and dragging him away. “Wanda! Let me go!” They began to shout at each other in a language she didn’t recognise. “I’m sorry about those two, they’re twins.” A 6’4 dirty bland man with a beard, who had reached to take her bag, was standing right beside her. “Steve.” His hand engulfed hers, sending a shiver down her spine, making her squeak before answering. “Y/N.” Steve smiled brightly and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

She was fucked.

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

“Lady Bones you’re needed in medbay.” The announcement came on as Y/N was sparring with Natasha. She pulled off the boxing gloves as she ran through the facility, not caring that he was only in workout shorts and a sports bra. She burst through the medical wing doors, seeing Steve laying on one of the metal slabs made her heart stop.

“What happened?” She asked as she hurriedly washed her hands before approaching the soldier and beginning to pull off his suit. “A building fell on him.” Bucky grunted, arms crossed over his chest, obviously pissed off. “I need to assess the damage before I can heal him. Could you bring the X-ray over please?”

“Why do you need the X-ray?” Bucky was busy trying to lug the big machine over to Steve. “If I don’t know the extent of the injuries and I just go in to heal him, then I can really hurt myself and end up not being able to save him. Just put it over here, thanks.” She prepped the machine and had Bucky stand behind her.

“It looks like he’s got quite a few broken ribs, fractured skull, and most likely some internal bleeding. You can put this back now, I’ll start healing him. Could you grab that chair, I don’t want to accidentally faint.” He placed the chair behind her and she placed her hands on Steve’s chest, ignoring the warmth coming from him that made her heart beat loud in her ears. The door opened again and Superman strode into the room, obviously distraught. “Is he doing alright? I couldn’t get to him in time.” “Yeah, he’ll be ok, Apollo’s fixin’ him up.” Buck sat at Steve’s bedside, watching Y/N carefully.

Clark looked down at her in admiration. He could see the pain on her face, her eyes screwed shut, but she kept going, even when her pulse got shaky and her breathing became laboured. He rushed forward as her knees shook and she began to fall. “I’ve got you.” He clutched her thick waist tightly, savouring the way she fit against his chest. She let out a cry of pain and he held her closer, trying to pull her off of Steve but she resisted, keeping her hands firmly planted on his strong chest. Clark felt her bones break beneath his hands.

“Y/N, you need to stop. You can’t keep this up.” “No. I can do it, just a bit more.” She shook her head. Steve’s eyes shot open, grasping at her hands. “Doll stop.” His voice was weak. “Can’t, not yet.” He gripped her forearms and pulled but was unsuccessful. He felt the last of his pain dissipate and as soon as he felt normal again, Y/N passed out. Clark scooped her up and placed her on the now vacant bed, taking the blanket Bucky handed him and covering her. He quietly snuck out of the room.

“She needs to stop doing that.” Steve sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. “I know. She can heal quickly but she ends up in so much pain. Last month she healed Bruce after a close call and was out for almost a week. This can’t be good for her.” Clark huffed. “She doesn’t take care of herself. Someone else will have to do it.”

“I can.” “I’ll do it.” They both said at the same time. They turned and made eye contact, and in a split second realised that the other man was also in love with the little healer laying in front of them.

“You have feelings for her don’t you?” Steve sighed. “Yeah I do, and I guess you do too.” Neither man noticed that the camera in the room clicked on. Tony sat back in his chair smirking, Bruce Banner next to him. “We shouldn’t watch this Tony. They’re going to work it out between them.” “Yes! That’s exactly what I want to see, the two golden boys telling the other to go for it while they ignore their feelings, it’s going to be great!”

“This isn’t going to work out the way you think it will.” Bruce Wayne entered the lab and stood behind the pair. “How do you know, bats?” He huffed at the nickname. “Because Clark is incredibly territorial and if he has feelings for someone, he won’t let them go.” The other Bruce nodded. “And Steve has been different since he came back from being on the run, he’s darker, takes what he wants.” Tony’s eyes widened as they turned their attention back to the screen.

Steve’s back was ramrod straight, he could hear his pulse in his ears. He couldn’t let Clark have her.

Clark’s jaw was set, his eyes blazing with fury. Steve couldn’t have her.

And in that moment, the Golden boys went from best of friends, to enemies.

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

It took three days for Y/N to properly heal, Steve’s injuries had been far more expansive than she thought, and when she woke up, it seemed that the JL and the Avengers had split. Well not split entirely, mostly everything was fine, but the two powerhouses were constantly at each other’s throats now. They insulted each other, friendly sparring matches turned into all out battles, and the other heroes were forcing them to stay away from each other and Y/N. But no one would tell her what caused this great rift.

There was one time where she had been cooking dinner for the Avengers when Steve came in and offered his help. Ten minutes later, Clark walked in, deep in conversation with Thor but his eyes kept drifting over to the pair. Steve stood closer to Y/N wrapping an arm around her waist as she stirred the sauce and whispered in her ear. “This smells so good doll. I bet it’ll taste delicious.” Goosebumps erupted along her neck and her stomach curled in arousal. He smirked at her reaction, holding her closer to him, her ass pushing into his pelvis. Clark was fuming. “Rogers, I don’t think that’s appropriate behaviour for the kitchen.” “Nobody asked you Kent.” You could cut the tension with a knife, both men looked like they wanted to murder each other. Thor swooped in. “Lady Y/N! What is this wonderful dish you’re making? It smells like something we used to have back on Asgard!” As the god distracted her, the soldier and the Kryptonian snuck out of the room to go destroy another gym.

It was like this for months before Y/N was sick of these two grown men acting like children.

Y/N trudged into the kitchen at Wayne manor and poured herself a huge cup of coffee, silently thanking Alfred for constantly keeping her caffeinated. “Hey Y/N!” A chipper voice startled her, making her drop her mug but before it could crash to the floor, a strong hand caught it. Clark looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to startle you.” “It’s alright.” She eyed him warily as he leaned against the counter next to her, the heat from his body radiating off him in waves.

“You going to tell me why you and Rogers are fighting?” She casually took a sip of coffee. Clark blushed. “It doesn’t matter.” “Obviously it does since you two were practically joined at the hip,” She paused, “Does it have anything to do with me? Cause you guys were fine when I healed Steve.” “No no, it’s not you. It’s that fucking asshole, he thinks he’s entitled to you. He thinks that because I’m Kryptonian, I’ll hurt you with my strength. But he’s also always getting hurt, which also puts you in danger, and he’s over 100 years old.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “And you assume you do have some kind of entitlement to me, that you can protect me better?” He stuttered for a moment before she continued, “I could be with someone else for all you know, it’s not like you’ve asked me if I’m single or even if I like men.” “Do you like men?” “That’s irrelevant right now. You two, instead of talking to me, like rational adults, decided to ruin your friendship and fight each other. So I’m going to go back to the school and I’m not coming back until you two work out your differences and talk to me like fucking adults.” She calmly placed her mug in the dishwasher and walked out.

“Fuck.” Clark scrubbed his hands down his face. “You do know that’s your fault right?” Alfred walked into the kitchen alongside Bruce who was wearing a big smirk on his face. “Master Bruce is correct. It is quite obvious the girl has feelings for you both. Speak with the Captain and work it out. Perhaps you could learn to share, so to speak.” Bruce’s face went bright red with what his adoptive father was implying. “Alfred!” “Oh don’t be so coy Master Bruce. I’m well aware of the things you get up to in your free time.” “I should go, Rogers and I have some things we have to discuss.”

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

The school was incredibly quiet, granting Y/N some reprieve from the chaos she had been dealing with. She sat at her favourite window seat, calmly knitting a hat for the professor. She had been given a couple weeks off, and immediately came home, helping move some of the students out for the holidays and helping the other teachers prepare lessons for the new year. “Hey kid.” A gruff voice came from her left. Logan was leaning on the door frame, beer in his calloused hand.

“Hi Logan.” He took that as a signal to approach, shoving her up the bench, sitting behind her and pulling Y/N back to his chest. “I’ve never seen you take a vacation that wasn’t forced on you. What happened?” “And I’ve never seen you ask me about what’s wrong.” She giggled at his pinched brows. “I guess you don’t want to talk about it.” He wrapped an arm around her stomach and rested his chin on her head. “Men suck.” Logan chuckled. “That they do little one. That’s why I told you to never date anyone. No one’s good enough for you.” They fell into a comfortable silence, Y/N picking up her knitting again and Logan closing his eyes, occasionally sipping his beer.

“I am sorry to interrupt but a man is here to see you Ms Y/N. It seems urgent.” Charles spoke in her mind. Logan groaned as she tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Logan the professor needs me.” “No.” She huffed, poking her finger in between his third and forth ribs which made him give a shout and he let her go. “I never should’ve told you about that, you hold too much power. You better start running.” He growled, causing her to squeak and run out of the room.

She was out of breath when she got to the professor’s office, Logan’s laughter still floating through the halls. Y/N knocked before entering. “You wanted to see me professor?” “I believe you know this guest.” Clark stood up from the seat in front of Charles, dressed in his full suit. “Kal? Is everything alright?” “Apollo, you are needed in the field. Steve has been injured.” “Were you the one that hurt him?” He glared. “Unfortunately not.” Charles smiled brightly. “Go on, you do have a job to do.” “Who’s side are you on, Xavier?” “Not yours.”

“Let’s go Kal, the sooner we get there, the better.” They stepped outside into the chill of a New York winter. “Alright, hold tight.” Clark held her to his chest and her eyes shut tightly as he took off.

The air got colder the longer they flew and Y/N pressed herself as close to his chest as she could. “Where are we going?” She knew he could hear her but he didn’t answer, making her suspicious, “You’re not going to kill me are you?” She felt his chest rumble with laughter beneath her hand. Clark’s head bent down. “We’ll be there soon.”

Another ten minutes passed before he landed, keeping her close as the cold seeped into her bones. A giant fortress of ice spread out before them. “Is this your man cave?” She rolled her eyes at him. “In a way, come on.” “Steve isn’t hurt is he?” Clark stayed silent, “You two are right bastards.” He smirked. “We know.”

Inside the cave was considerably warmer and a trail of rose petals led to a nervous looking Steve. “So you’re going to seduce me and then kill me?” Her voice broke him out of his trance, he jogged up to the pair. “You got the first part right, doll.” They led her to another room.

The ceilings were high and covered in little lights that look like stars, the walls had been painted a soft blue that blend in naturally with the ice outside. A bed sat in the center, facing huge windows that overlooked the arctic wilderness. The bed could fit at least five people comfortably so it wasn’t a leap for Y/N to assume that it was meant for her and the two god-like men standing on either side of her.

Steve and Clark each took one of her hands. “We wanted to apologise for the way we’ve been acting. We should’ve just come to you and told you how we both felt.” “And obviously the way to do that is kidnapping me and taking me to a frozen desert so I can’t run away.” Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “We were trying to be romantic.” “Alright, sorry. I’m just a bit worried about what exactly you two have come up with.”

The look that came over their faces was nothing short of pure mischief, they both stepped closer to her, crowding her with their bodies. “Oh doll, we found out that sharing is caring.” “And you know us sunshine, we are very caring.” Clark gripped her jaw and kissed her harshly, knocking the breath from her lungs. Y/N couldn’t help the moan that escaped her as Steve’s hands traveled down to her ass and gave it a squeeze. “You make the prettiest noises doll, can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you cum for us.” Clark had moved on from her lips, leaving them swollen, to her throat, biting her playfully and dragging more pleasured sighs from her mouth. “Oh fuck touch me please, want you both so bad.” She could feel Clark’s smirk against her skin before he gripped her thighs tightly and moved her onto the bed.

She bounced on the soft mattress as she was thrown down. “Our girl looks so beautiful doesn’t she, Kent?” “Indeed she does. She already looks fucked out and we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” “Take your clothes off and join me. The water’s fine boys.” Y/N smirked, pulling the large shirt she had been lounging around in over her head, revealing her full naked chest. “Oh sunshine, you don’t realise who’s in charge do you. You constantly take care of others so it’s our job to take care of you.” Kal bent over her, taking a nipple into his warm mouth. “You're ours now Apollo, we’ll discuss your rules later but if you do what we say, we’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. We’ll be devoted entirely to you, our goddess.” Y/N moaned at Steve’s words, grabbing his collar and bringing him down for a kiss.

Clark had been slowly working his way down her body, kissing every available inch of her beautiful s/c skin. “So gorgeous, so perfect, this body was meant to be worshiped. Made for us, for our seed.” As he reached her hips, his huge hands reached below her leggings and slowly pulled them off her legs. “Fuck I can smell her from here. How wet is our doll?” Kal pressed his nose against her sex, breathing in her scent. “She’s drenched. How long have you been craving us sunshine?” Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Answer him doll.” Steve grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to look down at Clark who was now mouthing at her core. “Since I met you, wanted you both so fucking bad.” “Good girl,” Steve whispered in her ear, “such a good little slut for us.”

Y/N had no clue when either man had undressed but she suddenly found herself sitting up, leaning against Steve’s bare chest as Clark lay in front of her, his head buried between her thick thighs, feasting on her pussy. “Oh fuck Clark! Feels so good!” Her back arched away from Steve who leaned down and attacked her throat with kisses, leaving as many marks behind as possible. “Call him daddy sweet girl, we won’t punish you this time but you’ll need to follow our rules.” Her fingers were buried in his hair, pulling slightly. “What do I call you?” Her voice was breathy. “Captain. It’s time you learn some respect.” Clark slapped her pussy, causing her to shout out. “Keep your eyes open, little one. Keep watching us as we bring you pleasure.” “Yes daddy yes!” “Good girl.” Steve’s hands drifted lower, down her spine and around her ass, burying themselves in her cunt as Clark focused on her clit.

“Captain, feels so good.” “Such a perfect slut, using your words.” Y/N gripped Clark’s hair tightly, holding him as close to her as possible. “Come for us doll and you’ll get our cocks.” “Fuck!” She came harder than she ever had before. She would’ve been embarrassed of the long continuous moan she let out but the pleasure consumed her.

When she came back down, Clark kissed her letting Y/N taste herself. “You taste so fucking good sunshine. What do you say?” “T-thank you daddy.” “Good girl, such a good girl. You ready for our cocks now?” She nodded frantically. “Words sweet girl.” “Yes, yes please daddy, captain, want your cocks so bad.” Clark lifted her up and laid her on his chest. “Ride me princess.”

Y/N sat back on her haunches and reached for his cock. She gasped. “You’re so big daddy, don’t think it’s going to fit.” Steve stroked her cheek from behind. “It’ll fit, we’ll make it fit.” Steve helped lift her up as she lined up Clark’s hard cock with her slit. The captain lowered her down. “Fuck daddy, ’s so big, can’t take anymore.”Her head was thrown back against Steve who kept pushing her down. “Take it slut.” He growled in her ear as Clark gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. Then her ass met Kal’s hard thighs. “Fuck! Sunshine, you’re taking me so well. Bet you feel me so deep in your tummy huh?” His hand rubbed her lower stomach, pushing on it to try and feel himself buried inside her. “Come on doll, ride your daddy, make him feel good.” Her walls burned with the stretch of Clark’s cock but she bit her lip and began lifting her hips, groaning, she could feel every inch of his god-like cock inside her.

Steve watched in fascination as her slick dripped down their bodies, soaking the sheets. “She’s so tight Rogers, she was made for this.” Clark ground out. “I bet we could fit another in that tight little hole couldn’t we. You want my cock too sweetheart, you want me to bury myself in this little cunt.” It wasn’t a question. “Won’t fit, too big.” “Oh doll, you stupid slut, it’ll fit,” he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “say red if it’s too much ok, we don’t want to hurt you.” She nodded and he pushed her down onto Clark’s chest, sticking a thick finger into her, stretching her out even more. She sobbed as he added another finger, using his other hand to rub her clit. Y/N started grinding her hips against Clark’s pelvis. “Please need more, need to be full.” “You ready for my cock?” “Yes please captain, need you in me!”

Clark was glad they chose to take her for the first time in his fortress because the scream she let out when Steve shoved his cock in her was so loud, he swore the ground shook. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He panted, resting his head on the back of her neck. “Please please move daddy, captain.” Both of them smirked and began moving in tandem. As Steve pulled out, Clark pushed in, making sure Y/N was always full. Y/N couldn’t speak, it felt like the air was being punched out of her lungs with each thrust. She was limp against Superman, gripping his arms for dear life.

“You gonna cum? I can feel you squeezing us.” She nodded dumbly. “Go on cum for us sunshine, soak our cocks in your delicious cum. Her orgasm was building and building but she needed more. As if Steve could read her mind, his rough fingertips just barely grazed her clit, she shattered. The world went black as the pleasure washed over her. She couldn’t hear either man shout through their own release over the sound of her blood pumping in her ears. Her eyes drifted shut as the last aftershock ripped through her.

“You with us doll.” A warm hand caressed her cheek. “Yeah.” Her voice was slurred and slightly raspy. Y/N slowly opened her eyes. “You passed out on us sunshine, I guess we were good huh?” She weakly rolled her eyes. “I’ve had better.” A sharp slap landed on her bare ass. “Naughty girl.” His tone was harsh but the smirk on Steve’s face showed his amusement. “It would be better if I could get some cuddles.” She stuck her arms out, pouting slightly. He smiled warmly and placed her on his lap, allowing her to snuggle into him. Clark laid down next to them, holding her waist from behind. “You did so well for us, we’re so proud of you.” She smiled shyly, shutting her eyes again, falling quickly back to sleep.

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

Music thundered through Y/N’s skull as she worked her way through the crowd of Tony’s party with a couple of drinks. “Apollo!” Natasha called for her, she was sitting with Diana and Wanda at a table by the side of the bar. She smiled and made her way over. “What’s up girls?” She placed the drinks on the table. “We had a little question for you. How did you get Supes and Cap to stop fighting?” Natasha gestured over to the two heroes who were currently playing a friendly round of darts. She shrugged, smiling to herself. “Let’s just say, I really like red, white and blue.”

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@im-a-slut-for-fluff

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yoonshrimpp · 2 years ago

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[ SUNDAY MORNING - JEONGCHEOL ]

"Jeonghan-ah, I'm here!"

Seungcheol's voice echoed through the hall of Jeonghan's apartment. He hanged his soaking wet coat at the entrance as he closed the wooden door behind him. He took off his equally wet shoes. Taking a look at his socks he suddenly regretted that specific choice. Jeonghan was gonna make fun of the dinosaurs on them, for sure. He sighed at the thought, unintetionally smiling to himself.

The house was quiet. The only noise he could hear was the rain hitting the big window in the living room. He walked through it, trying not to focus on the plants that were definitely being a bit too ignored by their owner.

"Jeonghanie?" he called again.

He finally reached the corridor and saw that the door to his bedroom was open. He could hear some music coming from it. He rolled his eyes when he recognized the song.

The moment he peeked into the room he immideately got hit by a strong smell of vanilla, but a sweeter one, more sugary. At the same time though it made him feel fresh all over, like recently cleaned clothes or like the first snow on Christmas day.

Jeonghan was sitting crossed legged on the big white rug between the queen size bed and the wardrobe, which was open. It seemed like it had exploded. Clothes were spread everywhere on the floor and on the bed, luckily not on Jeonghan too. The man was sitting still, looking at two sweaters laying in front of him. He seemed extremely concentrated as he bit his thumb.

Seungcheol chuckled "What are you doing?"

Jeonghan raised his brows, not even surprised by his presence. "Its sweater season Cheol, i gotta change the clothes in my closet." He picked up one of the two sweaters that he was so focused on "I have to choose what i want to keep for winter."

Seungcheol carefully made his way between the colored different types of fabrics that were covering the entirety of the bedroom's floor and went to sit on the bed, right behind Jeonghan. The now almost longhaired man leaned back, resting on his legs. Seungcheol's hand instinctively went to stroke those dark hair he loved so much.

"Did Joshua make you obsessed with this song too?" He said, a sweet smile on his face as he felt the younger relax under his fingertips. "I won't admit that. Let's just say that its the perfect song for today." He said as he folded some white jeans. Seungcheol looked at him from above "Hm?" "It's sunday, its morning and its raining. Couldn't be more accurate."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, nodding. Maybe the scent of Jeonghan's yankee candle was getting to his head but he suddenly felt sleepy once again, reminding him about the initial intent of his visit. "Jeonghan-ah..." He whispered, his lips coming in contact with the younger’s hair and he leaned down to kiss it. The latter seemed to melt on the spot, but replied anyways "Cheol, I really gotta do this...and i gotta study too." "But i can't sleep without someone to cuddle." He pouted as Jeonghan brought his head back to look at him. The older took his opportunity and left a small peck on his lips.

"You're such a child." Jeonghan said as he closed his eyes. Seungcheol's hands were back at doing that scalp massage that was making it extremelly difficult for him not to surrender. So he got up, broke the spell. Seungcheol's pout turned into a gummy smile, thinking he had won. Contrarily to his expectations, after Jeonghan made him lay back on the bed, he just grabbed a fluffy pink blanket and covered him neatly with it.

Seungcheol whined "Oh, come on! I'll help you study later if you cuddle with me now!"

"I'm not falling into this Choi Seungcheol. The deal was you'd sleep here only if you'd let me study in peace."

The latter just groaned loudly this time, accepting his fate and burried his face deeped into the blanket. It wasn't a bad idea after all. Jeonghan was always more calm after he had studied and done everything he had to do, which would have made the cuddles even better later. He rubbed his eyes, already feeling drowsy after that sleepless night. That's why he had come there in the first place, to catch up on sleep. When Jeonghan offered him to come over he couldn't believe it and he had rushed into his car and crossed the whole city under the rain to get there as soon as possible.

But now those dim lights, that soft song, the comfy blanket and that fresh but sweet smell, were ralaxing him so quickly that in a few seconds he found himself drifting into sleep.

Jeonghan closed the closet with a sigh, now ready to focus on studying but when he turned around the most beautiful view caught him off guard.

Seungcheol was sleeping soundly, plump red lips parted as he breathed out slowly.

He couldn't resist and he brought a hand to caress his hair, still a bit wet from the rain. He smiled and leaned to leave a ginger kiss on his forehead as he whispered a three words phrase coming from the bottom on his heart.

#jeongcheol #yoon jeonghan #choi seungcheol #svt #coupjeong

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

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two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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