#it’s not like the border series didn’t warn you

[aquaticmercy]

Bloodthirst

Part 5 of Dark Necessities

Series Summary : You drink Bucky’s blood out of necessity and accidentally form a primal bond that has the ability to unlock an ancient ritual magic.

Chapter Summary : As Bucky’s obsession with the bond grows, you meet a stranger who claims he can help.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Blood. Death. Cursing.Violence. Pleasure from a vampire bite (?). The reader is a dhampir/half-vampire/daywalker like Blade, and Blade is a mentor figure in this. Established relationship. Not a really an au, set in the MCU so semi-canon compliant except for the fact that blade is here lol.

Word Count : 2.7k

Note : hey y’all! I haven’t updated this in over a week, but as it stands, I am going to upload a chapter 2-3 times a week. Let me know if I missed anyone in the tag list. Enjoy!

Bucky’s obsession with Joanna’s journal crept in quietly, at first. He kept it tucked under his arm, bringing it with him even to the smallest corners of his life. Before long, he felt like he was compelled to carry a piece of her story.

In the low light of the bedside table, he’d lose hours tracing her words with a respect that bordered on devotion. Each night, you’d find him hunched over the journal, eyes fixed on the paper as if every letter were sacred. His breaths would grow shallow, his body still, save for the fingers that turned the pages. You’d watch him from across the room, feeling a knot tightening in your chest because it did in his.

You knew you should probably take a peek, but the idea of reading it yourself filled your head with a uneasy dread. 

You didn’t want to know what was written inside—didn’t want to see the horrors the bond you shared with Bucky reflected in the pages. There was a fear you couldn’t shake off— that the journal held a blueprint of what your future with him might become, and it terrified you more than you could admit.

One night, after you fed on him and showered, you heard him turn the page and exhale, almost a sigh. You knew it couldn’t be anything good.

I can feel Celine’s heartbeat even when she’s not near. When she leaves, I feel like a ship wandering the seas without a destination. Her soul burns with mine like a flame, and I am afraid of how much I crave it.

How strange to feel so full, yet so empty without her… I wonder if this hunger is love or something else entirely. I cannot tell. But I do not care to know the difference.

As Bucky read, his grip on the journal tightened, knuckles turning white. His storm-blue had that faraway look again, as if Joanna’s writing had taken the words right out of his mouth. 

He didn’t notice how his breaths grew shallow the way you did— and how his shallow intakes of air made it harder for you to breathe. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek instinctively. In that moment, he felt his cheeks ache, too. Warily, he looked up to you. 

He shut the book and smiled as if nothing was wrong. But he couldn’t hide these things from you anymore— you felt the dread he did, the spiral of obsession slowly digging deeper and deeper into his skull, taking root in his brain.

And still, you didn’t open the journal. You haven’t read a single sentence. 

It felt like the last line of defense, a boundary between what you could bear to know and what would destroy you if you did.

—

Today, you went on another mission— Elsa Bloodstone had tipped you off. 

The sunlight was blinding, slicing through the vein-like branches of the forest like a blade, yet the trees were so thick that there were pockets of darkness underneath.  

You and Bucky moved in near-silence through the edge of the woods, stalking the faerie that had left two vampires dead in the last three days. The forest seemed to sway with purpose, the earth beneath your boots uncharacteristically still. 

Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves set your senses on fire as you stayed close to Bucky’s side. The faerie had been maddeningly elusive. 

But you both knew it was near— you had caught a glimpse of their feet and followed it here. 

Bucky’s grip on his rifle was tight, his keen eyes flicking to every shadow that might move. He had specifically prepared silver-tipped bullets in his weapon, hoping he wouldn’t need it. Between you, the bond buzzed softly, a shared endless rise and falls of energy. His adrenaline felt like it had mixed with yours, creating a heady cocktail that made you hyper-aware, feeling the beat of his heart as if it was your own.

The daylight gave you an advantage—Bucky had insisted on that. The faeries had killed vampires— they would expect a vampire to avenge them. They would not expect a daywalker. 

This was your best chance. 

And yet, this seemed too easy.

As you stepped into a small clearing, the forest fell silent. Not the natural quiet of nature— it was like noise had been sucked out of the air in a vacuum. 

It was the kind of stillness that promised violence. 

You halted, your hand instinctively resting on the hilt of your dagger. The faint scent of blood drifted to you, sharp and metallic, and your eyes followed it to a figure slumped against the thick trunk of a tree.

A young vampire. Recently turned, by the smell of it.

The fledgling’s throat had been violently slashed, a grotesque smile carved into his pale flesh. His wide, empty eyes stared up at the canopy above. He likely was sheltering out the sun under the shade of the ancient tree.  A dark red streak ran down his neck, a brutal sight against his alabaster skin.

“This isn’t right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you began to back away. Your instincts screamed at you to run. “They’re leaving victims for us to find.”

He stiffened beside you, his head jerking up as he scanned the perimeter. His mouth opened to respond, but the forest answered first. 

Figures seemed to spill from the edges of your vision, flickering like flames. They moved with impossible grace, as if they were one with air itself. 

Faeries. 

Their pale, luminous skin glowed like winter’s first frost beneath sunrise. They wore flowing garments in shades of moonlight, their faces achingly beautiful but marred by a cruel childlike glee. They danced in and out of sight, their laughter piercing your ears, sharp as broken glass. 

You knew, now, that this was a trap. 

The bond between you and Bucky flared, his pulse thundering in your head. He moved closer, his back pressed against yours as the faeries closed in. Their movements were so fluid, so deliberate. One stepped forward, its lips curling into a smile that sent a chill down your spine.

“The blood-bonded lovers,” she said, her tone dripping with genuine wonder. “How rare. How precious.”

A shiver ran through your veins. 

These weren’t just faeries. Your eyes flicked to the brands on their necks— intricate, thorny roses etched into their pale skin. 

A marker of devotion.

“A cult,” you breathed, the realization hitting you like a blow. “A faerie cult.”

The stories came rushing back to you, dark whispers of faerie cults who performed ancient rituals to bend the natural forces to their will. The tales always mentioned daywalkers, their connection said to hold unspeakable power.

Perhaps they wanted to test their rituals on a blood bonded daywalker now.

One of the faeries began to hum, the melody soft and haunting. The sound wormed its way into your chest, vibrating in your bones, fraying your nerves. 

“To bring back the dead requires a blood sacrifice so rare,” the faerie purred, their eyes gleaming with hunger. “A blood sacrifice so potent.”

Bucky’s body tensed beside you, the bond crackling with his thoughts— anger, fear, and above all, a determination that burned like fire. You felt an unspoken promise ripple through the connection: he would not let them take you. But you knew he could feel your thoughts as well, that you were going to protect him just the same. 

The first faerie lunged, and you both moved as one. Bucky’s shot first, the silver-tipped bullet slicing through the air and slicing into the faerie’s shoulder. It staggered back with a shriek, its blood sparkling like liquid starlight. Another darted toward you, your dagger in hand, slicing into its flesh. The faerie hissed, otherworldly beauty twisting into monstrousityz

But then— 

A sharp sting bit into your neck. And another.

You slapped at the source, but it was too late. A cold numbness spread through your veins. 

You heard Bucky say your name, his voice quiet and distant. The world tilted, the sunlight fading, the trees dissolving into darkness. 

You both hit the ground.

And then there was nothing.

—

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the moon, bright and full, hanging high in the sky above you. 

How long had it been? 

You were in a hole in the ground, vines wrapped around your wrists. The air was damp, the faint scent of moss clinging to your senses as you groggily tried to sit up. 

“You’re finally awake,” came Bucky’s low, steady voice. He was crouched beside you, his metal hand working at the knots that held you captive. 

“How did you untie yourself?” you croaked, your voice still groggy, the lingering effects of the poison lingering.

Bucky shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “They didn’t factor in the whole blood-bonded supersoldier thing. Woke up, snapped the vines. Easy.”

You blinked at him, still drowsy. “How are you, like… fully awake already?” 

He held up a dart casing he’d pulled from his arm. The faintly glowing residue inside it shimmered faintly under the moonlight. “Silverleaf poison,” he said, toying with it between his fingers. “Hits vampires harder than humans. Guess they were banking on me being out longer.” 

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you even now. He’s been reading up on your kind. 

It took another minute or two, but he finally freed you from the vines. He helped you to your feet, steadying you with a hand on your waist. The bond between you buzzed faintly, a steady pulse of his calm sensibility grounding you. 

“They caught us off guard once,” you muttered, shaking off the last vestiges of grogginess. You looked up to the opening above you. You grabbed a root that had snaked down and started to climb out. “Not again.”

Bucky nodded, stretching his metal arm. He felt naked without his weapon, but this’ll do.

As you climbed out of the hole, the forest greeted you with an eerie silence. No whispers. No laughter. Nothing. 

Yet again, you got the creeping feeling that said the silence must mean something was wrong. 

Together, you moved cautiously into the clearing, every step feline. The smell hit you first—sharp, metallic, unmistakable. Blood. 

Then you saw them. 

The faeries. 

Their once luminous, otherworldly bodies lay sprawled across the ground like discarded old marionettes. Their glowing skin was smeared with their silvery blood, their flowing garments torn and stained. Some had wide, glassy eyes staring lifelessly at the canopy above; others had their faces frozen in terror. Their bodies were twisted at unnatural angles, limbs discarded as they had been ripped apart.

“Holy fuck…” Bucky trailed off, scanning the scene with wide eyes. He stepped forward, nudging one of the corpses with the toe of his boot. 

It didn’t stir.

You knelt beside another body, your hand hovering over the intricate thorny brand on its neck. The symbol seemed to flicker faintly, the glow fading as though whatever power had coursed through it was finally snuffed out. 

Then, you saw the figure standing at the center of the carnage.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

Tall and refined, he seemed utterly untouched by the chaos around him. His coat, deep purple with intricate gold trim, swirled faintly in the breeze. A lavish feather boa was draped over his shoulders, absurdly elegant. His dark eyes stayed on you and Bucky. 

The vampire from Dead Club City.

He was renewed with energy— almost glowing.

His fangs glinted of silvery blood.

Oh, he’d kept a couple of the faeries alive enough to feed.

Faerie blood was an acquired taste— and it was intoxicating. A recreational hallucinogenic drug for the vampire community at times, though not without danger— you have heard of multiple overdose cases. 

Yet here he was, unchanged by the blood he had drank— as if he had a resistance to it. As if he had built up tolerance to it.

His smirk deepened. It was not friendly. Not warm. 

“Ah, the hunters,” he said, his voice smooth and sweet. “Or shall I say, the hunted?”

Your stomach twisted. You could feel the hum of the bond with Bucky at your side, his tensed breathing a steady pull in your chest. He shifted, moving half a step in front of you, his stance protective.

His grip on your arm stayed firm—a reassurance that you weren’t alone. Still, unease prickled along your skin. This man—this vampire—was dangerous in ways you couldn’t yet define.

He had done this. Effortlessly. 

And now his attention was on you.

“Eric Veer,” He introduced as he approached, his boots crunching softly against the ground, not caring if he stepped on some faerie remains on his way.

There was nothing kind in this man’s face, only an ancient hunger, hidden beneath a thin layer of civility. 

Bucky, however, didn’t move. His hand tightened on your arm—not in alarm, but in caution. His thoughts, muted but present through the bond, was conflicted. But mostly, it was curiosity. 

It made you want to shake him, want to shout at him. How could Bucky not feel the danger emanating from this man? How could he not see the predator that lingered beneath the elegant facade?

Eric’s gaze shifted to Bucky, and then to you, lingering for a second too long. His eyes dropped to where Bucky’s hand gripped your arm. 

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “The connection between you… so raw. So untested.”

You wanted to step back, to put distance between yourself and him, but Bucky’s grip held you in place. The bond pulsed with his determination, and it felt infuriating. 

“What do you want from us?” You asked.

Veer shrugged. “I want to help. I have been studying blood bonds for centuries.”

You didn’t trust him. Not for a second.

Bucky, though, seemed to be listening, his thoughts guarded but intrigued. You felt the flicker of his hesitation through the bond, a reflection of your worry. 

Eric reached into his coat and withdrew a folded piece of paper. He held it out, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of amusement and excitement. 

You didn’t take it. 

Bucky, however, stepped forward, plucking the paper from Eric’s hand without any hesitation. You felt the shift in him, the way his curiosity bloomed, the subtle intrigue that bled through the bond. It frustrated you. 

How could he trust this man—this vampire who stood amidst a field of corpses like a god laying waste to his domain?

The address scrawled on the paper was written in cursive. Bucky said nothing as he studied it. Eric’s gaze returned to you, as if knowing he still needed to win you over. 

“I offer knowledge,” Eric said, his voice low, “What you do with it is up to you.”

He turned then, his coat billowing behind him as he began to walk away. You should have felt relief as he left, but the unease only grew, wrapping tighter around you like a noose. “Be careful with that bond of yours. A faerie cult is the least of your worries.”

And just like that, he was gone, swallowed by the shadows of the forest. 

The clearing was silent once more, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You stared at the spot where Eric had disappeared, your thoughts a blend of mistrust, and unease. 

Bucky, however, was still holding the paper, his expression unreadable. Through the bond, you felt his determination, his mind already turning with plans, strategies— a willingness to follow the thread Eric had offered. 

The paper held an address: 10 Wintermeyer Lane

“We shouldn’t go,” you said finally, your voice wound tight. “We can’t trust him.”

Bucky’s hand relaxed on your arm, but he didn’t look at you. “Maybe,” he said quietly, his tone carefully neutral. “But if he knows something about this bond… we can’t just ignore it.”

The connection flared again, a clash of emotions—your mistrust against his curiosity. You didn’t reply, but the fear in your chest refused to subside. 

As Bucky tucked the paper into his pocket, you couldn’t shake the feeling that stepping onto the path Eric had laid would lead to another trap— one that Bucky wholeheartedly trusted.

-To be continued…

Taglist :  @mystictf @chimchoom @crdgn @a-crying-fandom-lover @otterlycanadian 

@sebastians-love @intelligenceofapineapple @put-trash-here @hzdhrtss

@murnsondock

[depressedhouseplant]

Just Fucking Write - Day 80

Prompt: Enhypen OT7 - Vampire ‘verse

A/N: Based on the Dark Blood & Orange Blood concept trailers because the director did his own riff on the webtoon & I love a good villainess (I know @m-is-mickey does too 😝)

“Sooha?” Sunoo looked up at the window with the girl desperately banging on it.

“Not quite,” a familiar voice came over his shoulder. He turned to see a girl identical to Sooha standing behind him.

“Sooha?” he ventured.

“I’m Selen and she’s as just as much a part of me as you seven are parts of each other. Though I have to admit, her damsel in distress act is compelling, isn’t it?” Selen looked up at the window and nodded. Sooha stopped and opened the window. It was never locked.

“Where are they? Where are the others?” Sunoo demanded.

“They’re fine. You’re the only one we moved, right?” Selen looked up at Sooha.

“They should be waking up soon to find out that you and I are missing. They’ll come looking soon enough,” Sooha smirked. Sunoo looked between the girls. This couldn’t be happening. They were finally free. It was finally over. It had been less than a day.

“Come inside. You’ll find it’s warmer in there,” Selen took Sunoo’s arm and led him into the house.

“There’s a fire,” Sunghoon shot up, wide awake.

“A fire?” Heeseung rubbed his face and sat up.

“I could manipulate fire for 300 years. I can still feel it,” Sunghoon replied.

“He’s right,” Jake agreed.

“Wait, where are Sunoo and Sooha?” Jungwon asked. Jay and Niki stirred, finally sitting up. They all looked around and sure enough both of them were missing.

“The fire. It’s got something to do with the fire,” Sunghoon said. He and Jake led the rest of the group toward the source. It wasn’t long before they saw flames in the distance.

“Think we can still run as fast as we used to?” Niki looked at Jay.

“Can’t hurt to try,” Jay replied. They ran ahead of the rest of the group. Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon eventually caught up to them. What they saw froze them in their tracks.

A cottage was on fire and they saw Sooha and Sunoo inside, surrounded by flames. Except there was something off about her. She didn’t seem like the girl they knew.

“No!” Jake lunged forward. Niki and Heeseung grabbed him. “Let go! I can get him out!”

“We’re human, remember? You can’t walk through fire anymore,” Heeseung said.

“We have to do something!” Jake fought them as they wrestled him to the ground.

“There’s nothing we can do!” Heeseung pinned him down. They watched helplessly as Sooha placed her mouth on Sunoo’s neck and bit down.

“Don’t look so sad, boys. We’re all getting what we want,”

They turned around to see Sooha behind them.

“Selen, I’d like to think of myself as her better half,” she said. She turned her attention to Sunghoon. “She certainly had you whipped.”

“You bitch,” he lunged at her. She easily dodged him, catching him in a shoulder lock behind his back.

“I’d ask if you kiss your mother with that mouth, but I already know you do. And so, so much more,” she taunted. The other five didn’t dare to move.

“What did you do?” Jake broke the silence.

“Who do you think created you? Who do you think sacrificed her power to create seven perfect little servants? Of course, I had to split myself in half in the process. Sooha has been hard at work trying to keep you fools in line until I could escape. She even convinced you to kill your brothers and give up your powers. It was too easy,” Selen hissed, her breath grazing over his ear. Sunghoon wrestled against her, but Selen only tightened her grip.

“Escape from where?” Jungwon asked.

“Hell,”

[atlabeth]

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode. 

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 

“She did.” 

He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 

…Gods. 

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 

-

“Luke—” 

“No!” 

“Luke, please!” 

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 

“She won’t know!” 

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 

“If you say a single word—” 

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 

“Never better.” 

-

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m curious,” he decided. 

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 

“And how it killed the cat?” 

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Who’s her parent?” 

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 

He had a sister? 

“I have a sister?” 

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 

Gods. 

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 

-

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 

A letter. 

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 

So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 

To the one and only Luke Castellan, 

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.  

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

-

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 

“You’re awake,” she said. 

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 

Annabeth went silent. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 

“How did you meet her?” he asked. 

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

-

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 

Where was Thalia? 

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 

Thalia— 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 

“Annabeth!” 

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 

“Luke, you’re hurt—” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 

“Luke?” you whispered. 

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 

“My friends—” 

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 

-

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 

“The usual,” you mumbled. 

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 

“Bullseye.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 

“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 

“Just like old times,” you whispered. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. 

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

And by the gods, you believed him. 

[kingofbodyrolls]

Till We Meet Again (m) | jjk

When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.

→ Pairing: jungkook x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: childhood friends to lovers → Genres: romcom, smut, nostalgia, and so much fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 11.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Jungkook’s first time (he is not a virgin lol, but it’s his first time with a human, so), this one is actually pretty mild, bordering on vanilla. There’s talk about how merfolk do it 👀 This is just crack fantasy okay, please don’t take it seriously! There’s some small pov changes in here, because, well, it just happened, lol. → Warnings (explicit): protected sex, oral (both male and female), hair pulling, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, a little bit of dirty talk, begging, pleasing. → Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld → Read on AO3! → Author’s note: happy birthday to my sweet and lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7) 🥳 I wrote this story for you as a present. I know you’re not that much into fantasy, but when I told you about my mermaid ideas, you were excited 🤭 So this first one is for you bby ✨ I really hope you like it, also that everyone else does!

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The rain begins to pour as Jungkook grips your hand, his touch both delicate and powerful, guiding you through the sudden downpour. Moments ago, you were laughing and playing at the local playground, unaware that Mother Nature was about to drench the world in her unexpected shower.

Your heart pounds in your chest and echoes in your ears as you race to keep up with Jungkook, a wide smile spreading across your face. For an eight-year-old, he’s pretty damn fast, making every step feel like a thrilling challenge.

He’s sprinting down familiar streets, and you quickly realize he’s heading towards your home. You’ve never seen his house or met his parents, but your own parents adore Jungkook, joking that he’s your future husband. You’re not thinking that far ahead—you’re just a child, after all. Yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a fondness for him.

Let’s be honest, you have the biggest crush on the sweet boy with the round face and big doe eyes that seem too large for his tiny head. His nose is adorable, and his teeth only add to his charm. In short, you love everything about him, even his occasional unreasonable moments. But when he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip in that irresistibly cute way, your heart completely melts.

Your house comes into view, but instead of heading inside, he veers into your backyard, leading you towards the hidden playhouse nestled among the bushes and small trees.

“Shouldn’t we get inside where it’s dry?” you ask, bewilderment etched across your face as you finally reach the playhouse. He crouches down and gently pulls you inside, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No, we’ll be safe here,” he assures you, sitting down with his legs tucked under him. He bites his lip softly, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“We should go inside; I don’t want either of us to catch a cold,” you mumble, settling beside him and feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. Despite not feeling chilled yet, you know it’s risky to stay out in wet clothes. It’s autumn, and although the air still holds a lingering warmth, you’re aware that it won’t last long.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, okay?” he pleads, his eyes wide and his signature pout in full effect. You find yourself unable to resist—after all, who could say no to that adorable face?

For a few minutes, you sit there side by side, listening to the sky weep as rain patters softly on the roof of the playhouse. A few droplets sneak inside, but it hardly matters.

Jungkook suddenly turns to you, his expression unreadable— sadness flickers across his features, his normally warm brown eyes darkening to near-black in the dim light. His smile vanishes, replaced by a somberness that seems to weigh heavily on him. You can’t help but wonder what has shifted, why he’s undergone this sudden transformation in demeanor.

“___. Promise me you’ll never forget me?” 

His eyes widen with earnestness, pleading like a puppy’s, and both of his hands seek yours, holding on as if afraid of being forgotten.

Emotions swirl in those hazel eyes, a tumultuous sea of feelings you struggle to decipher. You long to grasp his thoughts, to understand why he’s broaching the topic of forgetting him. But the idea is unfathomable to you; forgetting him seems as impossible as forgetting your own name.

Something shimmers in his eyes—what, you can’t quite discern. They resemble an ocean, deep and mysterious, where one could easily lose themselves if they stared for too long.

“Forget you? Kookie, what on earth are you talking about?” your eyes widen in disbelief, searching his face for any hint of understanding, but finding only confusion.

“It’s just... I like you a lot, and,” he murmurs, stumbling over his words, his hands fidgeting nervously with yours. Then, lifting his gaze to meet yours, he adds with a touch of vulnerability, “I’ll never forget you. You mean the world to me, ___. You’re my friend.”

With a warm smile and a gentle chuckle, you reply, “Duh, silly. Of course you’ll never forget me! And I’ll never forget you either. Now, can we please go inside?”

Jungkook smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it usually does, leaving a lingering unease in the pit of your stomach. It feels like a storm is brewing within you, mirroring the turbulent weather outside.

“Just promise me. We’ll never forget each other, no matter what,” he implores, his voice firm and unwavering, his eyes reflecting the solemnity of his words.

He clasps your hand with his own, seeking out your pinky finger. 

“Pinky promise?” he asks, his eyes earnest, holding onto your gaze with a mix of hope and determination.

Your eyes flicker with a rapid dance of confusion and amusement. Despite the chaos of the moment, a smile spreads across your face, its warmth seeming to dissolve his frown and alleviate his frazzled state.

“Okay. Pinky promise,” you affirm, intertwining your pinky finger with his, sealing the pact with a vow that feels as timeless as eternity.

You never laid eyes on Jungkook after that—well, you did both retreat indoors, your mother showering Jungkook with love and sweet treats he adored. But after that day, twenty long years ago, he vanished from your life out of the blue, leaving only memories behind.

Why you’re thinking about him now, you really don’t know. Yet, just as he once asked of you, you’ve never let go of his memory—a part of you still holds onto the hope that he might reappear, surprising you around some unsuspecting corner, as if he never left. But with each passing day, the likelihood of such serendipity grows fainter, like the receding tide of the deep blue ocean.

Maybe it’s the nostalgia stirred by your recent home purchase by the sea that brings back memories of your childhood crush. The vast expanse of the ocean triggers thoughts of his eyes—not because of their color, but the way they used to glimmer, reflecting the light with a sparkle that danced like sunbeams on water.

Long strolls on the beach prove therapeutic, gradually pushing thoughts of your childhood crush to the recesses of your mind. With each step along the sandy shores, you uncover treasures—seashells, smoothed by the relentless embrace of the waves, and other mementos of seaside serenity.

You truly love the beach, which is why you chose to buy a house so close to the shore. It’s not just because the ocean reminds you of a certain childhood friend you wish you could see again. His sudden departure has always baffled you—sometimes you wonder what really happened. 

Was he kidnapped, or did he simply leave without a word? 

Why would he vanish without telling you first, especially if he just had to move?

It’s after dinner, and you find yourself lounging on your terrace, gazing out at the ocean. The view is breathtaking, and when the wind blows just right, the salty breeze gently caresses your skin. You smile a wistful smile as you raise your glass to your lips. Today is a red wine day; despite the heat, the perfectly chilled glass complements the warmth of the evening air.

With your legs propped up on the lounge chair, reclined for maximum comfort, you gaze out at the vast expanse of the sea. You can’t help but wonder about the treasures and secrets it holds, a mysterious world teeming with countless species you’ve never even heard of that call it home.

Mankind has long tried to conquer the world beneath the waters, yet the pitch-black depths of the ocean remain largely unexplored, beyond the reach of even the best diving gear. Though you’re no diver, the allure of the sea’s hidden secrets captivates you, and you dream of one day uncovering its mysteries.

A sweet, velvety sound caresses your ears, prompting you to sit up and listen more closely. The enchanting melody wraps around you, and you realize it’s a voice—someone is singing.

God, it sounds beautiful—captivating, sweet, and strong, yet tinged with sorrow. The melody weaves its way into your soul, leaving you spellbound.

For a moment, you wonder if it’s all in your head—a fleeting hallucination brought on by too much wine. But a glance at your glass and the nearly full bottle beside you confirms you’ve barely finished your first glass.

The voice is real, and it carries an eerily familiar tone. Intrigued, you rise from your comfortable lounge chair and make your way down to the sandy beach that has been your backyard for the past few days.

Your bare feet sink into the warm, fine sand, its texture caressing your skin. You glance around, searching for the source of the beautiful voice, but the beach remains empty, with no one in sight.

There it is again—the singing, so achingly beautiful that it sends shivers down your spine and raises the hair on your arms. Your feet carry you along the shoreline, but despite your efforts, you can’t pinpoint the source of the enchanting voice.

Then, just as you’ve been pacing up and down the shoreline, the voice abruptly vanishes—quiet as a still puddle after a rain shower. With a strange unease settling in your gut, you reluctantly turn back toward home. The voice felt hauntingly familiar, yet somehow elusive—like a distant memory struggling to resurface.

For the past few days, the hauntingly beautiful voice has serenaded you night after night, drawing you out to the beach in search of its mysterious owner. Despite your efforts, luck eludes you, and each failed attempt leaves you with a sense of frustration, reminiscent of the pout Jungkook used to give you whenever you were being unreasonable with him.

Your frustration mounts as the elusive voice continues to evade you, its hauntingly familiar tone persistently tugging at the corners of your mind.

Frustration coursing through your veins, you slip into your bikini, determined to quell the restlessness with a night swim in your aquatic backyard.

As the sand caresses your feet, you stroll down to the shoreline under the watchful gaze of the moon, its ethereal glow casting a mesmerizing sheen upon the water. The scene is nothing short of magical, and as the lukewarm water embraces your skin, a delightful chill courses through your body—not from the cold, but from the familiar embrace of your second home. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart, and in this moment, it feels like a sanctuary away from the world.

Surrendering to the embrace of the water, you allow its gentle currents to envelop you, cradling you in its soft embrace as you yield to its rhythmic sway. With only your head above the surface, you venture further into the depths, relishing the sensation of weightlessness and freedom that comes with each stroke.

A soft, melodic sound tickles your ear—it’s that captivating voice again! This time, it resonates clearer, as if drawing you in closer. Driven by curiosity, you swim towards the source of the sound, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you approach a cluster of rocks and a looming cliffside, you spy a cave nestled within its embrace, beckoning you with its mysterious allure.

The cave envelops you in darkness, yet the gentle glow of the full moon dances upon the water, casting an ethereal light that transforms the rocky surface of the cliff into glistening crystals. The voice reverberates off the walls, its echoes amplifying its haunting melody. Drawing closer, you discern a figure resting their head upon a rock, their silhouette illuminated by the moon’s gentle caress.

Intrigued, you inch closer, your curiosity piqued. As you approach, you discern the figure of a man, likely around your age, or perhaps a bit younger, reclining against the stone, his body partially obscured by its shadowy embrace.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice echoing softly in the cave. Instantly, a pair of dark brown eyes fixate on yours, their intensity sending a shiver of recognition down your spine.

As you hear something splashing nearby, you swiftly swim to the corner of the cave. Pulling yourself up onto the rocky surface, you cast an inquisitive gaze at the stranger, who remains silent, their expression enigmatic.

“Are you okay?” you inquire, met with silence as the man attempts to retreat, concealing more of his body beneath the murky depths, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath the surface.

You approach cautiously, taking slow, measured steps, careful not to startle the man. His features are striking—sharp, chiseled jawline, eyes wide and intense, lips full yet thin, and a cute nose that triggers a flood of memories from long ago, memories that have never faded.

“Jungkook?” you gasp, the name escaping your lips like a sudden gust of wind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you—happiness and hurt colliding like waves crashing against the shore, overwhelming you in their tumultuous embrace.

The man cautiously peers over the rock, his bare torso partially shielded from view. The sight of him shirtless prompts a flurry of questions in your mind—why is he here, and why is he without a shirt?

Is that a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm?

You can’t help but notice the strength in his neck, the prominent veins tracing a path down to his defined clavicle and broad shoulders. Damn it you really shouldn’t, but you find yourself shamelessly admiring his physique, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

“___?” His voice breaks the silence, light and airy, reminiscent of a summer breeze whispering through the leaves.

“Is it really you?” you inquire, lowering yourself to sit in front of him, your gaze sweeping over his features once more. His face holds a striking resemblance to someone from your past, now matured with the passage of time. Yet, those deep, familiar ocean eyes leave no doubt—it’s unmistakably Jungkook.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirms, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. The boyish charm of his smile clashes with the maturity reflected in his sharp features, creating a captivating contrast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in your voice. The sight of him in this cave, serenading the darkness with his song, leaves you utterly bewildered.

“Just taking a breather,” he chuckles, his gaze shamelessly roaming over your form, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

“Hold on a second,” you exclaim, frustration tinged with urgency in your voice as you scratch your head in bewilderment. “What brings you here? You vanished without a trace. What happened?”

Another splash in the water draws your attention, and you track the sound to behind Jungkook—then, you spot it: the tail. It’s a mesmerizing shade of purple, with delicate variations of violet shimmering in the moonlit cave. The translucent fins catch the light as they sway gracefully. The scales, rough and scaly, add to the otherworldly beauty of him.

Your jaw nearly hits the rocky surface—if it could, it surely would. You gaze, utterly transfixed, at the figure before you—your childhood friend, now revealed as a mermaid. No, a merman. The revelation leaves you reeling. How is this possible? You’ve heard of undiscovered species lurking beneath the waters, but this is your friend, someone you’ve known for years with two perfectly functional feet and no hint of a scaly tail.

“___,” he begins, his voice filled with warmth and genuine curiosity. “It’s been such a long time. How have you been?” His eyes radiate happiness, but you’re still reeling from the revelation before you. Seeing him again—something you’ve dreamt about for years—leaves you speechless.

“No,” you assert firmly, a rush of urgency in your tone. “You don’t get to ask questions yet. There are so many things I need answers to from you first.” Determined, you attempt to peer over the rock he’s perched on, desperate for a closer look at the astonishing sight before you—your childhood friend now bearing a tail, a reality that defies all logic.

“Alright, fire away,” he responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “But give me a moment to settle in.” With a graceful movement, he hoists himself out of the water, his biceps flexing as he perches on the rock, his tail lazily swaying in the water. Bathed in the soft glow of the cave, his majestic purple tail shimmers, leaving you in awe of his breathtaking beauty.

He seems big and broad shouldered, the tattoos look intricate, reflecting ancient scribbles and drawings on his arm.

You plop down on the rugged surface, your mind reeling with disbelief—it all feels like a surreal dream. Unable to resist, you extend your hand to touch him, as if to confirm his reality. Your index finger tentatively prods his cheek before trailing down to his chest. The moment your touch meets his pecs, you’re met with a jolt of realization—his muscles are firm, real, and undeniably tangible beneath your fingertips, sending a surge of heat through your veins as you inadvertently find yourself groping his impeccable chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes darting from your hand on his chest back to your face. Embarrassment floods your cheeks with a deep crimson as the realization of your actions hits you. You’ve been feeling the solid warmth of his chest, lost in the surreal moment.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, yanking your hand back as if it’s been scorched. “I didn’t mean to touch you like that!” Embarrassment floods through you, your heart racing as you pull away from the unexpected intimacy.

Damn it, get a grip, you chastise yourself silently. “I just wanted to make sure this is real,” you confess aloud, your voice trembling slightly with lingering disbelief.

You release a nervous chuckle, the sound betraying the disbelief still coursing through you. But as you take in the surreal sight before you—Jungkook, undeniably real and impossibly transformed—you can no longer deny the truth. Your childhood friend is here, right in front of you, and he is, astonishingly, a merman.

“Oh, this is very real,” he teases, his voice rich and layered with an enigmatic quality that you can’t quite decipher but are desperate to understand.

“Are you really a merman?” you ask, your gaze drifting back to his tail, mesmerized by its iridescent beauty. It’s breathtaking, almost otherworldly.

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes glimmering with a wistful nostalgia that tugs at your heartstrings.

“What happened to you? Why did you leave?” you demand, the urgency in your voice revealing the depth of your longing and confusion. These are the questions that have haunted you for years, the ones you swore you’d ask if you ever saw him again. Why did he disappear without a word, leaving you behind?

You watch as his expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “My parents and I had to move back home... to the ocean, I mean,” he explains, his face twitching as if struggling to mask an inner pain. “A rift in a tectonic plate devastated my village. Everything was destroyed, so we had to return and help rebuild.”

You study him closely, a lump forming in your throat as a myriad of emotions swirl within you.

“Okay. But why couldn’t you come back when you were done?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and hurt. It’s apparent that there are unresolved feelings of abandonment lingering within you, a reminder of the wounds you may need to address with your therapist.

“I really wanted to, but my parents and the village elders forbade it. We dedicated ourselves to rebuilding our village, but returning to the surface was strictly prohibited,” he explains, a palpable sadness tinting his words. It’s evident that he had yearned to reunite with you, but the weight of his responsibilities as a merman ultimately kept him bound to the depths of the ocean.

“Why are you here now? And are there others like you?” you inquire, a mix of bewilderment and intrigue coloring your tone. As you press for more information, you notice him visibly relax, his features softening once again in response to your curiosity.

“Well, I’ve been here for quite a while. I come up here to sing, often thinking of you, actually,” he confesses, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “And yes, there are others like me,” he adds with a chuckle, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and friendly banter.

“Thinking of me?” you stammer in amazement, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of his words settles in.

“Yeah. I’ve missed you since I had to leave, and I’ve been searching for you for years. Meeting you again feels like a dream come true,” he confesses, his voice filled with palpable joy at the reunion with a long-lost friend. His words send a surge of warmth through you, igniting a flutter of emotions you thought long buried. As your heart skips a beat, you’re struck by the realization that the childhood crush you harbored for him still lingers, stronger than ever.

“I’ve missed you too,” you exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with emotion. With a gentle touch, you extend your hand, laying it atop his on the rough surface of the rock, a silent reassurance of your enduring bond.

“How come you’re a merman? You were just a boy last time I saw you…” you begin, not really knowing how to ask the question that you have swirling in your mind.

“You want to know if something happened to me, to make me like this,” he gestures with his other hand over his body— it’s well defined, muscles big and strong, “or if I’d always been a merman?” His words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the mysteries surrounding his transformation.

You choke on air with how effortlessly he articulates your thoughts, a skill he’s always possessed. You nod in agreement, the intensity of your curiosity driving you to lean in closer, desperate to unravel the enigma of his transformation.

“I’ve always been a merman. My parents chose to live as humans— they’re merfolk too, by the way. But they wanted me to experience life on land. So, despite appearances, I’ve always been like this,” he explains, a smile gracing his lips as he playfully flips his tail in the water, sending ripples dancing in his wake.

“How… How do you transform?” you ask, studying him intently once more. Despite his remarkable change, he still retains that familiar essence, stirring up the remnants of the childhood crush you thought you’d outgrown. A flush of warmth creeps across your cheeks, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

“Well. When I’m out of water for an extended period, I assume my human form. And when I’m in contact with water, I revert to my merman form,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. As his fingers intertwine with yours, his touch is tender, each stroke a gentle caress that ignites a spark of warmth within you.

You nod, absorbing his explanation, but then you gasp as his words sink in, a realization dawning on you. “Do you transform when it rains then?” you blurt out, the question bursting forth with newfound urgency and curiosity.

His laughter fills the air, rich and unrestrained, sending ripples of warmth through your chest. Your gaze instinctively drifts to his chest, where the rhythmic movement of his pectorals accompanies the melody of his mirth, a captivating display of joy that you can’t help but revel in.

“No. That wouldn’t be very practical. It has to be seawater, or simply prolonged exposure to water can also do the trick,” he explains, his tone laced with a hint of amusement at the notion of rain-induced transformations.

You nod in understanding once more. “Nothing about this is practical, Jungkook,” you remark, a hint of incredulity lacing your tone.

He chuckles again, withdrawing his hand from yours and gently cupping your cheek. His touch sends a surge of warmth coursing through you, like a dormant ember suddenly ignited into a flickering flame, ready to blaze anew.

He locks eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and intense, brimming with depths of emotion that beckon you to explore. It’s like peering into an uncharted ocean, filled with mysteries waiting to be discovered. Despite the unfamiliarity, you’re drawn to dive deep and lose yourself in the depths of his gaze.

“Do you remember our promise?” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble, yet resolute. Seeking solace in the familiarity of your gaze, his words carry the weight of cherished memories and unspoken vows.

“Of course,” you respond with a bittersweet smile, lifting your hand and extending your pinky finger. “I’ve never forgotten you, Jungkook,” you affirm, the weight of years past and promises kept evident in your touch.

He hums a melody, its tune unfamiliar yet strangely soothing, and in that moment, you find solace in the sound of his voice, the melody a balm to your racing heart. “I’ve never forgotten you either, ___,” he confesses, his words carrying the weight of shared memories and enduring connection.

With his other hand, he reaches out, extending his pinky finger to intertwine with yours, creating a connection that feels like two worlds colliding, merging into one. It’s a moment of transcendence, where past and present converge, binding you both in a promise that spans the depths of time.

“I never got to tell you this on that day, and it has haunted me since, but I like you,” His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and a vulnerability that echoes through your soul. As he gazes into your eyes, it feels like he’s peeling away layers of your being, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, despite the fabric that shields your skin. With each moment, he draws nearer, his touch a gentle anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

“I like you too,” your confession hangs in the air, suspended between you like a delicate thread woven with anticipation and longing. With every word, you feel the weight of your emotions, amplified by the closeness of his presence. As your breath brushes against his skin, you can almost taste the bittersweet tang of desire mingled with the salt of the ocean breeze.

In his embrace, you feel cherished, cocooned in a world where only the two of you exist. His gaze, laden with affection, dances between the depths of your eyes and the soft curve of your lips, a silent symphony of desire. You catch the subtle flicker of his pupils as they dilate, mirroring the fluttering of your heart. A fleeting gesture, your tongue brushes against your lips, a subtle invitation to bridge the divide between longing and fulfillment.

In the hushed sanctuary of the moonlit cave, time seems to stretch into a languid dance, enveloping you both in its tender embrace. The world outside fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the rhythmic melody of your shared breaths echoing off the rocky walls. Your gaze descends to the plush pinkness of his lips, a tantalizing invitation begging to be explored. A surge of curiosity and desire courses through you, igniting a tempest of longing as you ponder the intoxicating possibility of tasting his kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” His question hangs in the air like a delicate promise, and you feel a rush of anticipation flooding your senses, the tension between you crackling like electricity. His words, soft yet laden with unspoken longing, send a tremor of excitement coursing through your veins. In that suspended moment, you find yourself caught in the irresistible pull of his gaze, his eyes a sea of swirling emotions mirroring your own. With a silent plea echoing in your heart, you grant him permission with a subtle nod, your breath hitching in anticipation as you yearn for the moment when his lips will meet yours.

His tattooed hand, warm and possessive, slides from your cheek to the back of your neck with a gentle urgency, pulling you into him as if he’s afraid you might slip away. When his lips meet yours, it’s like a collision of stars, soft yet electric, igniting a wildfire of sensation that courses through your veins. As he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort, you’re overcome with a rush of warmth and affection. With a soft chuckle escaping your lips, you reach for him, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair as you draw him closer. The second kiss is a revelation, a crescendo of desire and longing that leaves you breathless and craving more. His hum reverberates against your lips, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, like a lifeline in a sea of swirling emotions.

You draw back reluctantly, a sigh escaping your lips as you feel the bittersweet ache of parting. “It’s getting late,” you murmur, the weight of reality settling in as you remember your responsibilities waiting beyond the cave’s embrace. 

“When will I see you again?” the question hangs between you like a delicate thread, woven with hope and uncertainty, longing for reassurance in the face of impending separation.

A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and he licks his lips with a playful flick of his tongue, relishing the way your senses are all tangled up in a whirlwind of emotions—frazzled yet utterly blissed-out in his presence.

“Soon,” he assures with a reassuring smile, his touch lingering for a moment longer as his thumb caresses your lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. “You can always find me here, or just listen for my voice. But duty calls back home. I’ll return, I promise.” With that, he pulls away, releasing you from the spell of the moment, but leaving behind a promise that lingers in the air like the echo of his voice in the cave.

Reluctantly, you rise, dusting off imaginary particles from your skin with a sweep of your hands, lingering in the moment a bit longer. With a soft smile, you regard him, your eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and longing. 

“You really have a beautiful voice, Jungkook,” you murmur, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and admiration, like a gentle breeze in the tranquil cave.

With a smile that seems to illuminate the entire cave, he gracefully immerses himself in the water, causing it to dance and ripple around him like liquid poetry in motion.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” you express, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and affection, each word carrying the weight of the emotions you hold for him.

“I’ll be counting the moments until our paths cross again,” he murmurs softly, his words carrying on the gentle breeze as he fades into the depths below, leaving you with the lingering promise of his return.

Jungkook had indeed kept his word. Though you trusted him, a small part of you feared you’d never see him again. Yet, the very next day, he reappeared in the cave, serenading you with a song as you basked in his presence. This enchanting ritual has continued every day for the past two weeks, each encounter deepening your bond and making the fear of losing him fade away.

So far, your encounters have been limited to kisses, which you absolutely love—his lips are incredibly soft. Yet, lately, you’ve found yourself yearning for more. The stress of your upcoming housewarming party, which you’ve shared with Jungkook, isn’t helping. You think that letting loose with him might be just what you need to de-stress.

“Why are you having this party again if you don’t really want to?” he asks, genuinely curious. He can’t fathom why you’d willingly burden yourself with the hassle of pleasing others when it clearly brings you no joy.

“I guess it’s just expected of me,” you muse, looking down at the sparkling water as his tail gently plays with it, creating ripples. “My friends are coming, my parents too. They haven’t seen my new house yet.”

He smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re doing this for them, but it sounds like you’re forcing yourself. That makes me a bit sad.”

You shake your head and put up your hands in defense. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not like I dislike it completely. It’ll be nice seeing my friends again.” You pause, a sudden idea lighting up your face. 

“You could also come, you know?”

His face brightens momentarily, but then he slumps down in the water, looking a bit deflated. “I’d love to come, but I’m not sure I can. My hyungs need my help in the village; one of them has been missing for days, and we’ve been searching for him without luck…” His voice trails off, a mix of concern and disappointment etched on his face.

You feel a twinge of sadness for him and say softly, “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I hope you find him soon. Just know you’re always welcome, no matter when.”

His smile returns, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he speaks. “Thanks. Jimin usually never wanders off, that’s why we’re afraid something has happened to him.”

You envelop him in a hug, offering what comfort you can, despite not knowing Jimin. You silently pray for Jimin’s swift return—after all, you understand more than most the ache of missing a piece of your heart.

A few days later, the soft strains of music fill your home, weaving through the laughter and chatter of old and new friends alike, and the comforting presence of your parents, whose faces you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity.

As you mingle with your friends, catching up on stories and laughter, time seems to dance away unnoticed. It’s only when the gentle kiss of the evening breeze starts to nip at your skin that you realize how long you’ve been engrossed in conversation with your colleague out on the terrace. With a shared chuckle at the sudden chill, you both retreat inside, seeking the warmth of good company and lively conversations.

Her joke evokes laughter from you, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by her sudden silence, drawing your attention to where her finger points. In the kitchen, your parents stand, their faces alight with smiles, engaged in conversation with a tall, dark-haired man whose locks curl gently at the ends.

Her curiosity piques as she nudges you with a mischievous grin. 

“Who’s that hot man with a tattooed arm over there talking with your parents?” she asks, her voice tinged with intrigue, prompting both of you to draw nearer to the kitchen.

As you draw closer, disbelief gives way to certainty: it’s unmistakably Jungkook standing beside your parents.

“___! You never mentioned Jungkook’s return! How long has it been, twenty years?” your mother exclaims, her smile radiant as she pinches Jungkook’s cheek affectionately, treating him like a long-lost child returned home.

Your dad’s eyes sparkle with the warmth of a long-awaited reunion, as if he’s just rediscovered an old friend, and you can’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you.

Your mother reaches out to embrace Jungkook, her petite frame enveloped by his much larger one, but he indulges her with a warm hug, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

With a playful grin, your friend nudges you, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook, a knowing glint sparkling in them. “Who is this handsome man?”

As you break from your reverie, you manage a sheepish grin, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and excitement. “This is Jungkook, my childhood friend. We go way back.”

“He’s hot,” your friend’s observation cuts through the air with a boldness that makes you chuckle, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she sizes up Jungkook.

Your mother’s laughter fills the room, a warm melody that dances around the air. “He really is! You’ve really outgrown that cute bunny phase you had,” she teases, her fingers playfully squeezing Jungkook’s rather impressive biceps.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me,” you groan, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation painting your voice as you reach for Jungkook’s hand, eager to escape the teasing clutches of both your parents and your friend.

As you pull him away, Jungkook chuckles softly, following you into the living room where you both sink into the inviting embrace of the couch.

Amidst the chatter filling the room, engaging in conversation with Jungkook proves challenging, his words often drowned out by the lively voices of others around you.

“Would you like to step out for a bit? Take a stroll along the beach?” he proposes, his gaze alight with anticipation, as if the idea itself holds a promise of something wonderful.

With a nod, you clasp his hand, a silent agreement passing between you. But before you step out into the night, you make a quick detour to your friend, informing her of your plans for a seaside stroll.

She scrutinizes you with the intensity of a hawk, then delves into her purse, emerging with something in hand. “Here,” she says, passing it to you. 

“I have a feeling you might need this.”

You accept the small foil packet, its presence alone sending a jolt of recognition through you. Your cheeks and ears ignite with heat, and you hastily tuck it into your jeans pocket, your gratitude tinged with embarrassment. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice slightly breathless.

As you begin to turn away, she shoots you a playful wink, causing you to release a sigh of embarrassment, your cheeks still flushed with color.

Outside, you stroll barefoot on the sand, reveling in the moment with Jungkook by your side—both of you connected to the earth beneath your feet. His presence captivates you, his figure tall and striking against the backdrop of the beach. Shoulder-length hair dances around his face, adding to his allure. With each step, you admire his physique—broad shoulders tapering to a defined waist, muscular thighs moving with purpose. Clad in a white tank top, his biceps speak of strength, while his snug blue denim jeans accentuate his powerful legs, showcasing a silhouette that commands attention.

His human form is undeniably beautiful, but it pales in comparison to the breathtaking splendor of his merman form. This realization brings a soft smile to your lips, and a blush warms your cheeks.

You walk with him along the beach, your hand nestled comfortably in his, the silence stretching between you like a warm blanket. It feels like an eternity before he clears his throat, a deep rumble that breaks the quiet. “Do you want to go to the cave?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hopeful anticipation.

You look up at him, captivated by the soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” you agree, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“Cool. I know a way to get there from land,” he says, pulling you along the shore. Your feet sink into the cool sand with each step, the waves gently lapping at your ankles as you follow him, while he makes an effort not to let the seawater touch him.

“You do? I thought it was only accessible from the sea,” you chuckle, feeling the excitement build as he leads you closer to the rocky formations along the cliffside.

“I know a lot of hiding spots,” he giggles, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he reveals a narrow, almost hidden entryway in the cliffside, just big enough for him to slip through.

You step into the familiar cliffside cave where you’ve been meeting for the past few weeks. Nestling into the small sandy patch, the only section not enveloped in stone, you feel a comforting sense of familiarity mixed with anticipation.

“Much easier to talk in here, huh?” Jungkook chuckles, leaning back against the cave wall. The gentle echo of his laughter fills the space, making it feel cozier. You nod, a soft, airy chuckle escaping your lips as a blush warms your cheeks. Sitting beside him, the intimacy of the cave amplifies every shared glance and whispered word.

You look up at him, your eyes fluttering bashfully. “I don’t really want to talk anymore,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to talk,” he says, his voice deflating as a pout forms on his lips. That’s when it hits you—he has no idea how much you crave him, how badly you want to feel him, everywhere.

You turn your body towards his, your hands caressing his face as you pull his face towards yours. “I want to do more than talk,” you quip, your voice small but steady. “I want to kiss you and so much more.”

Something seems to snap in him, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his cheeks. He moves his face closer to yours, your noses almost touching. “So you want more?” he teases, his voice a tantalizing whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word escaping in a breathless pant as you close the distance between you. Your lips meet his in a fervent, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that blazes between you. Your hands hold his cheeks in place, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, as he responds eagerly, deepening the kiss with his tongue, sending waves of desire coursing through you.

When you part, both of your eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

“I want you, Kook,” you plead, your breath mingling with his, your foreheads pressed together in an intimate connection.

Your fingertips trace the lines of his body, dancing over the contours of his chest until they halt at the brink of his jeans.

“I want you too, ___, but I—” he pants, his words cut short as you start to rub your hand over his clothed dick, eliciting a deep, gratifying groan from him.

You keep teasing him with your hand, feeling the growing hardness beneath your touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You lick your lips, watching as his face contorts in pleasure, every subtle reaction driving you wild with desire.

“Hmm, you like it?” you ask, positioning yourself directly in front of him, locking eyes as you continue your ministrations.

“Yes, but I—” as your hand maintains its pressure on his crotch, he stammers out his words, his voice a mixture of desire and hesitation.

“What, are you a virgin?” your playful tease hangs in the air, accompanied by a soft chuckle, as you lean in closer to him, your breath warming his ear with your whispered words.

“No!” His response is hurried, almost defensive, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve just never done it with a human before…” he confesses, his tone a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity.

You draw back slightly, scanning his face, catching a glimpse of uncertainty mingled with desire flickering in his eyes.

“I can guide you through it, show you what feels good. Trust me, you’ll enjoy every moment,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of confidence and anticipation.

“I mean, Jin hyung already told me how it works,” he pants, his gaze fixated on your hand as it works its magic, his hips instinctively moving in rhythm, “I’ve touched myself before, out of curiosity, but I’ve never had sex with a human before.”

Your expression softens, recognizing that this is a new experience for him, so you resolve to take it slow.

“Mermen don’t exactly have dicks like humans,” he chuckles, his movements against your hand betraying his eagerness for friction.

You lean in again, teasing him, “How exactly do merfolk have sex?”

He chuckles, smirking at you, “Well, it’s more like a mating ritual, honestly. There’s some swimming around, almost like a dance, rubbing against each other. It’s quite primal and intimate, in its own way.”

You frown, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief evident on your face. “That’s it?”

He nods, his expression both amused and sincere.’

“No teasing? Release of bodily fluids? Making out? Sticking things into holes?” you list, your expression a mix of incredulity and disappointment. God, you really do like sex and all of the things you just listed. Mermaid intercourse sounds slightly boring in comparison.

“No sticking things into holes sadly—except for tongue kissing,” he chuckles, masking his disappointment with a playful grin, though you sense a tinge of longing in his eyes.

“But you get to try that now, okay? Then you can tell all your friends how it is to have sex with a human,” you smile, feeling a bit mischievous, your words laced with humor as you try to lighten the mood after the serious discussion.

“Many of them have already experienced it,” he laughs, his tone tinged with excitement and a hint of anticipation, “My hyungs have done it a lot, and I can’t wait to experience it myself.”

“They sound like they’ve had their fair share of adventures,” you chuckle, stealing a glance downwards, noticing the telltale strain in his pants.

He chuckles, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “Can we talk about something else? Because I’m having trouble focusing on your hand when I’m talking about my friends.”

With a playful laugh, you grasp the situation and share a knowing glance. Eager to reignite the passionate spark between you, you playfully unzip his pants, only to discover he’s gone commando—a thrilling surprise that sets your heart racing and ignites a rush of desire.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow, your fingers wrapping around his cock teasingly. “No underwear?” you jest, a playful twinkle in your eye, as you give him a tantalizing stroke, feeling his anticipation building with each caress.

With a low, guttural sound, he shifts his weight, arching his back to assist as you peel off the remainder of his jeans. Your fingers eagerly find their way back to his dick, marveling at its girth and length, already imagining the delicious stretch it will bring. The anticipation sends shivers down your spine.

His cock is long— longer than average, and thicker too. The tip is red, a small bead of precum gathered at the top, just waiting to be tasted by your tongue.

He teases you, his hips surging upward as if to test your grip. “Do you like it?” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, his eyes locking onto yours as he waits for your response.

You meet his gaze with a smirk, your fingers still wrapped around him. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” you concede, your voice laced with anticipation. Honestly, you don’t care much about the size of it, more about how good he is at using it.

He watches you intently, his gaze probing yet curious. “Have you had a lot of sex before?”

You nod and give him a small smile.

You lean in closer, your eyes locked with his, conveying your sincerity and eagerness. “I have, but let’s focus on us now,” you whisper, your voice tinged with determination. “I want to make you feel good, and then you can return the favor. How does that sound?”

With a tantalizing smile, you moisten your lips before lowering them to his cock. The instant contact makes him quiver, a reaction that only fuels your desire. You start by tracing him with your tongue, savoring his taste, before enveloping him completely in your warm, wet mouth.

He utters adorable, needy moans as your mouth envelops him, his reactions spurring you on as you slide up and down, sucking him with fervor and intensity.

His hands find your hair, gripping it gently at first, then with a bit more urgency, but you don’t mind one bit. Instead, it fuels your desire, urging you to take more of him into your mouth, to please him further with every movement.

The echoing sounds of slurping fill the cave, reverberating off the rocky walls, creating a symphony of desire. Each wet, sucking noise only fuels your arousal further, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with every passing moment.

“Shit. I’m feeling like I might come already,” he pants, his fingers tightening in your hair, a futile attempt to control the rising tide of pleasure coursing through him.

You release him with a soft pop, panting as you meet his pleading gaze, a flicker of desire mirrored in your eyes, silently promising more to come.

“It felt really good, but I really want to know what it feels like being inside your pussy, please,” his plea echoes through the cave, his eyes pleading like a desperate puppy, and you can’t help but chuckle at his adorable earnestness, your own desire kindled by his longing gaze.

“Of course. I want to have you inside of me too,” you pant, urgency seeping into your voice as you hastily pull your shirt over your head, revealing the lace of your bra to him, a silent invitation in the flickering light of the cave.

“You’re stunning,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation. “It’s not just your body that I love, but your entire essence, your personality—it’s all so captivating.”

Your smile widens, mirroring the warmth and affection swelling in your chest as you gaze at him. As you begin to unbutton your pants, a thought nudges its way into your consciousness. Retrieving the foil packet from your pocket, you place it on the ground between you, a silent promise of the intimacy about to unfold.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to the foil packet, curiosity sparking in his eyes like a flame catching kindling. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue and a hint of anticipation, as if sensing the gravity of the moment wrapped in that small, innocuous package.

You chuckle softly, charmed by his innocence, realizing he’s never encountered a condom before. It’s endearing, really, how sheltered his underwater world has been.

“It’s a condom. It’s for protection,” you explain gently, feeling a mix of tenderness and amusement at his innocence. “You put it on your cock. I’m on birth control, but it never hurts to be extra safe,” you assure him, deciding to take the lead and offer to help him put it on.

As you attempt to open the foil packet, he intercepts your movement with a smirk, halting you with his hand. “Not now. I want to taste you first. Can I? And will you let me know if you like it or not? I’ve never tried it before,” he trails off, his voice soft and endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize just how charming he can be.

His hands find purchase on your hips, and with a deliberate tug, he pulls your pants down, leaving you bare in your underwear. His gaze travels over you, from your eyes down to your dripping cunt, igniting a fire of anticipation in your core.

“Your panties are wet.” 

You chuckle in response, a mix of excitement and nervousness dancing in your eyes as you obediently part your legs wider, inviting him in with a playful yet anticipatory smirk.

“That’s because I’m aroused,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as his touch sends a delicious shiver down your spine, your anticipation building with every electrifying caress of his hand against your hip bone and down to your pussy.

“You can remove it,” you whisper, your voice husky with desire, as you arch your back, offering yourself to him, a silent invitation. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to the dimly lit cave, the anticipation thickening the air between you.

He lowers himself between your parted legs, his touch sending shivers up your spine as his hands explore the soft skin of your thighs, eliciting playful giggles from your lips. With agonizing slowness, his fingertips inch closer to your aching pussy, your body aching with desire, yearning for his touch. You find yourself silently begging for him to make contact, your entire being consumed by the anticipation of his caress.

“Please, Jungkook,” you implore, your voice trembling with urgency and longing, “I need to feel you, your touch—whether it’s your fingers or your mouth, I don’t care. Just touch me.”

As he gazes into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and understanding, he delicately traces his index finger over your sensitive clit. The sensation overwhelms you, eliciting a strangled gasp of his name, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

With each gentle stroke of his finger over your clit, you can’t help but release a soft moan, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Sensing your pleasure, he continues, his movements becoming more confident as he circles and rubs your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As your breath quickens and your body trembles with anticipation, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain control, your legs quivering with need. Sensing your urgency, he gently guides your legs apart with his free hand, allowing him better access to your pussy.

He watches, entranced, as your clit pulsates, the rhythmic flexing and relaxing of the muscle a mesmerizing sight. The vision of your arousal sends a jolt of desire through him, making his own need painfully evident.

“You can put a finger in,” you pant, your voice trembling with need, eyes wide and pleading for more.

He looks up, his eyes searching yours, “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper filled with both concern and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip, a soft groan escaping your throat. “Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice laced with desperate longing, “I want your fingers inside me now.”

With the hand that was expertly teasing your clit, Jungkook slides it down to your slick folds, marveling at how you glisten in the moonlit cave. He gently positions his index finger, then slowly, almost tantalizingly, pushes it inside you, making you gasp at the intimate sensation.

The pleasure hits you instantly, a surge of desire overwhelming your senses. You crave more, each second intensifying your need, as if every nerve in your body is crying out for him.

“Wow,” he breathes, mesmerized by the sight of his finger slowly disappearing into your hole, his eyes wide with awe and desire.

Mesmerized, he begins thrusting his finger in and out of you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your sweet noises of pleasure fill the cave, encouraging him. After a moment, he looks up, his voice husky with desire, “Can I add another one?”

You nod, and another finger slips into your pussy, stretching you just a bit more. The sensation is intoxicating, yet you crave so much more. You’re trying to maintain control, to let him take his time, but the need inside you is almost overwhelming.

“Please,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with desire, “add a third finger and use your other hand to play with my clit.” You crave the sensation, the stretch, the readiness for his cock, your need palpable in every word.

With a swift motion, you unhook your bra, allowing it to slip to the ground. His movements pause as his gaze fixes on your exposed chest—your nipples standing pert and proud, a silent invitation to his touch.

As his gaze reluctantly leaves your exposed chest, he resumes his attention on you, the third finger sliding into you with a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips at the welcomed stretch. His thumb, slick with your juices, finds your clit once more, initiating a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Breathless and on the edge of ecstasy, you manage to muster the question, your voice filled with awe and admiration, “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Because you’re really good at it.”

His laughter dances in the air, a melody to your unraveling pleasure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a perplexed frown until you see him drawing nearer, his tongue tracing the contours of your pussy.

You surrender to the ecstasy, tossing your head back as waves of pleasure wash over you, relishing the sensation of his velvety tongue caressing every contour of your quivering folds and sending electric pulses of delight through your clit.

With a hunger that matches your own, he envelops your clit, his mouth becoming a vortex of ravenous need, as he sucks and teases, drawing forth the essence of your desire and savoring every drop of your arousal with a fervent devotion.

With an almost expert touch, he draws your sensitive bud into his mouth, creating a vortex of sensation that sends electrifying pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. Each suction brings you closer to the edge, igniting a fiery intensity that threatens to consume you entirely. As you pant and gasp, your senses reel with the impending release, the anticipation coiling tighter within you like a spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy.

Your fingers trace the curves of your breasts, igniting a trail of sensation that sends shivers down your spine. With each touch, you feel the heat building within you, a primal urge demanding release. Your fingertips dance over your nipples, teasing them to attention, and you can’t help but respond with a symphony of gasps and moans.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up, drawn to the symphony of your movements, your gasps and moans orchestrating a melody of desire. Yet, he remains steadfast in his task, his lips and tongue weaving a spell of ecstasy as he devours you with hunger, like he has done this many times before. It’s as though he’s an artist, each stroke of his tongue a masterpiece, each flicker of his lips a masterpiece of passion.

As your body arches and trembles with impending release, you’re acutely aware that the peak of ecstasy is just within reach. “Jungkook,” you gasp, your voice a fervent plea, “I’m... I’m going to come.”

With his deep chuckle vibrating against your most sensitive spot, you’re overcome by the intoxicating blend of sensations. In an instant, your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure, your fingers tangling in his ebony locks, anchoring you to the dizzying whirlwind of ecstasy as he eagerly savors every drop of your essence.

With a gentle and tender gaze, he pulls away, his features adorned with a shimmer of your essence. “Was this alright?” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, yet his eyes brimming with warmth and adoration. With a gasp of disbelief, you draw him into a passionate kiss, savoring the mingling taste of yourself on his lips, yet your heart races with an electric thrill. “It was perfect,” you murmur against his mouth, your voice laden with sincerity and longing, sealing the moment with fervent intensity.

“Now you can fuck me,” filled with need, you voice your desire, urgency coloring every syllable, as you reach for his shirt and hastily pull it over his head. Your fingers fumble with the foil packet, opening it with a sense of anticipation, before your hand finds his still-hard cock.

With careful precision, you slide the condom over his dick, a tangible barrier between you and raw desire. As you spread your legs, creating space for him, his cock hovers tantalizingly close to where you ache for him most. In his gaze, you detect a mixture of longing and uncertainty, silently seeking your permission to proceed.

You take control, grasping his cock firmly and guiding it to your eager entrance. With a whispered instruction, you urge him to press forward, “Push a little, but slowly.”

As he nods in agreement, a determined glint ignites in his eyes. With gentle yet purposeful movements, he starts to ease his cock into the welcoming warmth of your eager pussy, each inch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, stretching you deliciously with every inch gained.

His breath hitches, voice laced with wonderment, “Wow. You’re so tight,” he pants, his words punctuated by the sensation of more and more of his dick disappearing into the velvety depths of your cunt, a symphony of pleasure enveloping you both with each inch he claims.

“God, you’re big,” you pant back, a mixture of excitement and anticipation lacing your voice as you try your best to relax, welcoming the exquisite stretch and fullness as he almost fills you up, every inch of him stirring a delicious ache within you.

Finally, he’s completely inside, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, feeling every pulsing inch of him deep within you, a rush of sensation flooding your senses as you revel in the delicious fullness he provides.

“You can move now,” you encourage him with a smile, eager anticipation shimmering in your eyes as you invite him to explore the depths of pleasure with each rhythmic thrust.

“How? You’re hugging me so tight,” he groans in pleasure, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as if seeking your direction amidst the waves of sensation coursing through both of you.

“Feel how we fit together?” you whisper, your hands tenderly guiding his hips. “Just move your hips—back and forth. Follow the rhythm of our bodies, and trust me, it’ll be amazing.”

“I already feel so good.”

He starts with a gentle push, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. With each thrust, he delves deeper, igniting an electric dance between your bodies, and you can’t help but moan in bliss.

“Don’t stop—faster,” you urge him on, and he responds with a surge of intensity, each thrust echoing in the cavern, a symphony of desire enveloping you both.

Your hands abandon his ass and hips once you’re satisfied he’s got the rhythm, his every thrust hitting that perfect spot, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You moan his name, the sound igniting a primal response in him, his grunts mingling with your name, creating a symphony of passion in the cave.

“Keep going—harder,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire. With each thrust, he drives into you with unyielding force, your back meeting the rough cave wall, igniting a primal intensity that leaves you breathless. You know there’ll be marks and scratches later, but at this moment, all you care about is the raw, primal pleasure he’s giving you.

“Yes!” you scream, your voice echoing against the walls of the cave, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to clutch his strong biceps for leverage. The intricate tattoo sleeve he has on his right arm, flexing with the strength he puts into his thrusts. With each powerful movement of his hips, he plunges deeper into you, igniting a primal fire that consumes both of you in an insatiable frenzy.

“___. I think I’m going to come soon,” he confesses, his voice strained with pleasure, his brows furrowing in anticipation of the impending release.

“Me too. Shit. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out, your disbelief mingling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. His skill and passion feel too seasoned for a first-timer, leaving you both questioning the truth of his innocence.

“I’m just a fast learner,” he teases, his lips finding solace on one of your exposed nipples, eliciting a fervent moan of his name from you. 

He sucks and nibbles at it, all while hitting your soft spot with precision. It’s an onslaught of sensation, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within you, threatening to unravel at any moment.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your nipple, only to lavish the same attention on its twin. His kisses, licks, and sucking send ripples of pleasure through your body, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

That’s it. You’re gonna come again.

“Fuck, Kook,” you cry out, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you as you surrender to the torrent of ecstasy, your pussy releasing your liquid and pulsating around his cock, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you with the breakneck speed he’s moving his hips at.

“Damn, how did you just get even tighter?” he groans, his voice strained with pleasure, his primal urges driving him to the brink of ecstasy. You feel his urgency, knowing he’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Fuck—” he pants, his breath ragged and erratic. Then, he stutters, his movements turning feral for a moment as you feel his cock twitch inside your pussy, and he releases into the condom, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

He stills inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he puts all of his weight into his arms. You gaze at him with a smile, your hand finding his cheek, gently pulling him closer to you, a silent reassurance in your touch.

You kiss him tenderly, the intimacy lingering in the air as your lips meet in a long and deep embrace. When you finally part, your breath mingling, you whisper softly, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Me too,” his voice carries a gentle exhaustion, mirroring the weariness you also feel settling in. You share a quiet moment, the weight of your shared passion and pleasure evident in the silence that follows.

As he gradually softens inside you, he withdraws gently. You swiftly retrieve the condom, deftly disposing of it with a practiced flick, tossing it into the depths of the cave, a silent testament to the intimacy shared in this hidden sanctuary.

“Can we do it again?” he pleads, his eyes ablaze with desire, each word heavy with anticipation, begging for another swim into ecstasy.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his once more, the promise of another intimate time igniting a fire within you both.

“But maybe we can go for a swim first?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eyes as you feel your breathing gradually returning to normal.

His expression shifts to one of surprise. “You want to swim? I’ll revert to my merman form then…”

You gently grasp his cheek, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze echoing your sincerity. “I love you, whether you’re in your merman or human form. I love all of you. And yes, I want to swim with you. You know how much I love being in the water.”

As he eases into your proximity, he nods, inching towards the water within the cave. With a mesmerizing display, a cascade of sparkle and glitter dances in the air as his legs seamlessly meld into a majestic purple tail. Your jaw drops, captivated once again by the breathtaking sight of his merman form, each time feeling like the first time you saw him like this.

He gracefully glides into the water with a splash, and you eagerly trail behind, tentative at first, dipping your toes into the cool embrace, then succumbing to the gentle caress that envelops your entire naked form.

You swim alongside him, venturing beyond the confines of the cave, out into the vast expanse of the open sea. The ocean stretches endlessly, meeting the horizon in a seamless blend of moonlit waves. Above, the sky is a tapestry of stars, each one twinkling like a promise of infinite possibilities. Though your house is a distant silhouette against the shore, it fades from your thoughts in the enchantment of this moment.

As you glide through the water beside him, the gentle rhythm of his tail occasionally breaking the surface with playful splashes, you find yourself drawn to the mystery of his world. “I’d love to see your home someday,” you say, the words carried away by the ocean breeze, mingling with the soft lullaby of the waves.

“Yeah. I know a witch that can turn you into a mermaid, if you really want to,” he says with a big smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they meet your surprised gaze, mirroring your astonishment with his own excitement.

Your eyes widen with wonder— the thought of becoming a mermaid, a cherished childhood dream, suddenly within reach. “I’d love that,” you breathe, your voice filled with an intoxicating mix of excitement and disbelief, as if daring the universe to make this fantasy a reality.

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray��I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing big in this one. Memory loss?? Overprotectiveness?? Azriel losing it (but not that much just yet)??

a/n: Hi this is going to be a series :) thank you for reading <3

Part 2 ♡

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

As you blinked through the haziness, a dull throb echoed along the base of your skull. You sat up abruptly, feeling rocks and twigs digging into the backs of your legs, and winced as several shouts attacked your senses. You recognized none of them.

Gods, your head hurt. 

A few more blinks and the sun made an appearance, light assaulting your too-sensitive eyes. The leaves beneath your hands crunched and blew away in the balmy breeze, a few flecks of green still stuck to your palm as you brought it up to rub your head. 

“Don’t,” a feminine voice warned, and it was then that you pinpointed one of the shouts from earlier. But it was warmer now, calm. “Don’t touch your head, y/n. Azriel and Cas are getting help.”

You scrunched your face up but obeyed the command, taking steady breaths to try and manage the pain. The woman in front of you—blonde hair, brown eyes, a fierce expression—was like no one you had ever seen before. She was so incredibly beautiful you weren’t sure if you were actually awake. 

You took a pause. 

And then another. 

Who was the last person you had seen? 

“Where am I?” you asked instead, trying to appear sane. Your voice sounded unfamiliar. 

The woman’s expression pinched. “You’re in Spring Court. You remember that, don’t you? Rhysand sent us.” 

“Rhysand?” you repeated, the name foreign on your tongue. “Sent us for what?” 

“Well, we were supposed to be rallying Tamlin into re-fortifying his borders to win back the Summer Court’s good graces, but that beast is an idiot. Forging agreements with witches was quite possibly the worst move he could have made.” 

“Witches?” 

“I know, unbelievable,” the blonde ranted, sitting back on her heels beside you. “We came to help only to find out he had helped himself to the wicked. I knew he was distraught after Feyre, but to turn to this?” 

The pounding in your head was making it increasingly difficult to follow the tale the woman was spinning. Perhaps if you had more backstory, more information, you would understand what she was talking about. 

Desperate for that connection, you winced as you asked, “Um, not to offend, but… who are you?” 

Her aggravated expression crumpled into one of shock and concern. Her mouth parted, her brows came together at a point, and then she shifted, bringing her hands to your shoulders. When you flinched at the touch, the woman pulled her hands back, her fingers curling into her palms. “You don’t recognize me?” she asked, trepidation lining her tone. 

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as pain shot up your neck. 

“Not at all?” she whispered. When your face remained blank, she pulled her hands into her lap. “Do you know who you are?” 

Another lapse in silence. 

“My Gods…” 

Darkness materialized nearby—swirling darkness. It reminded you of shadows and brought you a sense of peace for the first time since you opened your eyes. 

But then people started emerging from the darkness, taking up space in the vast forest, and that peace collapsed. Two large men with wings stomped against the twig-covered floor, causing a raucous disturbance as they began hurrying an older woman out from behind them. They both spoke in low, rushed tones and you wanted all the sound to stop. 

You ignored the woman’s directions from before and squeezed your head in your hands, your eyes snapping shut. It didn’t work, and you hadn’t expected it to, but Gods did your head hurt. It hurt and it was plagued by an impossible pressure that wouldn’t seem to let up.

“Mor, how long has she been awake?” one of the men asked. You felt him kneel beside you, felt him place rough, textured hands on your wrists in an attempt to pry your hands down. But he was gentle—so very gentle. 

“Azriel, she—” 

“Mor, if you could move aside. I need to look at her,” a much older voice chimed in. 

There was shuffling around you, new hands pressing to your face. You heard whispering that you couldn’t make out, and then the panic set in. 

You didn’t know these people. When you first woke up, the disorientation was focal; you were concerned about the pounding in your head and your whereabouts and that was it. But there were so many people here now, and you didn’t know any of them. 

You didn’t know who you were. Did they know who you were? They had to. 

“Majda, stop. You’re scaring her,” the man beside you, Azriel you’d heard him be called, practically hissed. 

Majda only hummed. “I am doing the job you brought me here to do. If I can’t work around a mating bond I will send you away, Shadowsinger.” 

Your breath came out in faster huffs, each one deeper than the last. You opened your eyes to try and gain some footing in the situation, still keeping your hands glued to your head. 

Your gaze went out before it went in, and you saw the blonde woman, Mor, beside a much larger man. His shoulder-length hair was messy and windswept, and he sent you a bittersweet, sympathetic smile that you couldn’t replicate. He watched with furrowed brows as your eyes darted from him, to Mor, to the wide forest around you. 

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t take her home first,” the man standing by the trees grumbled. “She would be more comfortable there.”  

“We didn’t want to move her with a head injury,” Azriel growled. “Not one from a witch.” 

His voice sent your attention towards him. Azriel was on his knees beside you, holding your wrists with his thumb circling the back of your hand in delicate strokes. He was painfully beautiful and you were left to wonder, yet again, if you were truly awake. When your gazes met, something foreign pulled at your ribs and the pressure sent an unexpected scream past your lips. You hunched over in a panic, yanking yourself away from those beside you.

That wasn’t right. None of this felt right. 

The older woman, Majda, cursed, staring after you as you pushed yourself further and further away. Each movement sent a new ache aflame in your head, but that didn’t stop you because you needed to get away. Your feet kicked up dirt and rocks and your hands tore with the effort but this wasn’t right. 

Azriel reached you before you could hit the tree just inches from your back. He held your head in his own hands and locked you in his gaze, keeping you trapped in the yellows and browns and the flecks that joined them. He took exaggerated breaths, wings flared out to block out the sun, and then he began whispering. 

It took a moment for you to understand the words, your heavy breaths mostly drowning them out. 

Something swished in the distance. More whispering, more secrets. 

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

When Azriel’s voice finally came through, it was like a lifeline. 

“I’m here, my love. You’re safe. I know it hurts, I know.” 

It was odd, finding peace in a stranger. The shadows that seemed to dance around him swirled into shapes that framed your skin, and some of the panic felt foolish in their presence. They twisted and curved, somehow amplifying the cool tone of Azriel’s voice as he promised you things you had no capacity to understand. 

But he never stopped talking, not even when your gaze left his to follow his shadows instead. If anything, the action seemed to spur on the small beings more, and you wondered—for a brief moment—if he was controlling them. 

Something like amazement seeped into your panic as you whispered, “Who are you?” 

You didn’t know the man in front of you, that much was true, but he looked so… broken at your words. Something akin to pain clashed with his beautiful features as his jaw clenched to an unnatural degree. You were surprised that his teeth didn’t crack beneath the pressure. You wondered what else he could withstand—what atrocities he’d seen to make his eyes turn so dark when you spoke your words out loud. 

“No,” Azriel growled, chin hooking over his shoulder. His wings pulled back to reveal a new man, but this one looked slightly different from the others. No wings, different eyes. “You stay out of her head, Rhysand.” 

Rhysand. He was the one that had sent you here.

The concern on Rhysand’s face looked unnatural, like it didn’t belong there. “Az, it could help. Let me help her.” 

“You could make it worse. We have no idea what that witch did to her.” As Azriel spoke, shadows began to cover you more and more. Your sight became dim, your body camouflaged in darkness. 

“Looking in could be the only way to figure that out.” The next bout of silence was uncomfortable. The pounding in your head persisted, exacerbating to the point of tears along your waterline. “I know what you’re feeling, Azriel. I get it. But I want to help her, brother. You know I would never hurt her.” 

A twig snapped beneath a boot.

Azriel growled low in his chest. 

The pounding gave way to a sharp pain, and it made your senses lighter, less focused. 

You couldn't remember ever passing out before, but you thought it might feel like this. 

“Stay away from her.” 

“She doesn’t remember you, Azriel.” 

A choked breath. “Don’t touch my mate.” 

Darkness that surpassed the shadows finally granted you a reprieve from the pain. 

Maybe you'd wake up and this would all make sense.

Part 2 ♡

[winterarmyy]

A Fucking Treasure

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: A date gone wrong? Same old, same old. But, having Bucky pinning her against the wall, now that’s new.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.1k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fingering, nipple play, marking kink(?), multiple orgasm, praise kink, dry wet humping, cum eating(?), p in v, going in raw, creampie and well you know me, i can’t write smut without some sort of angst or fluff, so yeah, body insecurities, super sweet bucky but also needy and insatiable bucky.

Inspiration: i was mentioned by @mercurial-chuckles in her Smutty September Fest post and some of the prompts fit nicely with one of my wip. Btw, thank you for tagging me! I feel included 💕

Prompt number: #5 body worshipping + #16 accidental i love you’s during sex

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to the kitchen, but the quiet hum of the refrigerator was enough to mask the sound of his movements. The dim light from the hallway barely reached the living room, casting long shadows across the area.

It has been a routine for him to wake up in the middle of the night, the nightmares of his memories haunting his sleep, dragging him back into the darkest corners of his past. He was used to it. But tonight was different. There were no memories clawing at him, no ghosts whispering in his ear. Instead, his mind was consumed by thoughts of her.

He wished to hold her, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to trace the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. He longed to pull her close, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe in her scent, to hear the soft, steady rhythm of her breath as she slept beside him. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine; a yearning so deep it bordered on desperation. 

So he decided to clear his head, avoiding letting his head stay in the gutter.

He let out a sigh, not one of sadness, but of suppressed desire, the kind that made his heart race and his cock stirred. As he reached for a glass, something caught his eye; a silhouette on the couch. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the figure lying there, motionless, as if the day had been too much to bear.

It was Y/N.

Confusion clouded his mind. She wasn’t supposed to be here. 

A few hours ago, she’d been dressed to kill, draped in that black satin dress that clung to her in all the right places. The sweetheart neckline framed her delicate collarbones; the softness of her cleavage was bare for him, and the high slit teased him with every step she took. He had admired her silently, his gaze dark with something he didn’t dare voice. The way the fabric had caressed her skin, the soft curve of her shoulders, the way the dress accentuated her body; he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

She was breathtaking.

They had made eye contact, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. His gaze was feral, full of unspoken want, yet his lips remained sealed tight, trapping the words he wanted so desperately to say. If she had super hearing, she’d have heard the low, approving hum that rumbled deep in his throat. But then, the moment shattered. His heart broke a little when he heard her mention to Natasha that she was going on a date. The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him.

He had been sitting at the kitchen counter at that time, listening as Sam and Natasha hyped her up, teasing her about how lucky her date was going to be. Bucky stayed quiet, forcing himself to look away, fighting the jealousy that gnawed at him. It wasn’t fair; he had no right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of her with someone else, someone who could give her everything he couldn’t; it was unbearable.

But now, she was here. Alone.

Sleeping on the couch in the same sinful dress that had driven him to distraction earlier. But the sight of her now was different. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes puffy and red. It was clear she had been crying, and the sight of it twisted something deep within him.

Gently, he knelt to her level. He knew she was a light sleeper, so he approached with care, his metal fingers brushing softly against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met his, they were filled with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

Bucky's voice was a low murmur, intimate and tender. “What are you doing sleeping here, babydoll?”

Her cheeks reddened, the flush deepening as she realised he was seeing her at her most unfiltered state. The thought made her heart race, and the way he spoke, so close and personal, only made it worse. The intimacy of the moment was too much.

She gathered herself, sitting up with a sigh. “I didn’t plan to… I was just…” Her voice trailed off, and her expression softened into one of sadness as the memories of the evening came flooding back.

It had started off well enough. They had connected online, his messages charming and full of wit, making her think that maybe, just maybe; this could be something. But the moment she met him in person, she noticed a shift. The easy smile he’d worn in his profile pictures seemed a little tighter, the warmth in his eyes dimmed.

As they sat across from each other at the restaurant, she couldn’t ignore how his gaze kept drifting downwards. His eyes lingered a little too long on the exposed parts of her chest, his attention fixating on the stretch marks that she usually tried so hard to ignore. She had seen the change in his expression; the way his gaze hardened, a slight frown creasing his brow, followed by a low scowl that he probably thought she couldn’t hear.

Then, out of nowhere, he just left. No explanation, no goodbye; just a curt excuse about needing to use the restroom, and then he was gone, leaving her alone at the table with a half-finished meal and a hollow ache in her chest.

She knew why he left. She had seen that look before, the way his eyes lingered on her stretch marks, the way his expression shifted from interest to disdain. It was the same with most of the guys she went on dates with. The moment they saw the imperfections, they would withdraw, their interest waning before her very eyes.

She knew they hated the stretch marks on her skin, found them hideous. It was in the way their eyes would momentarily widen in surprise, followed by a barely concealed grimace. She could see the discomfort in their expressions, the way they quickly looked away as if trying to erase the image from their minds.

At first she always thought stretch marks were normal. It was human nature, a part of life, a testament to growth and change. She had tried to embrace them, reminding herself that they were natural, that everyone had imperfections. But each time she saw that look of disgust, it chipped away at her resolve, making her question everything she’d tried so hard to believe. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t normal. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have them. Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with her.

She didn’t even know how she got back home. The memory was a blur, a haze of tears and jumbled thoughts. She remembered crying, feeling the tears stream down her cheeks as she stumbled out of the restaurant. But the rest was an utter fog. Did she walk home? She couldn’t remember. The city lights and the sound of her own sobs were all that lingered in her mind. It was as if her body moved without her conscious thought, carrying her back to the one place where she didn’t have to pretend everything was okay.

Bucky waited, his eyes searching hers, but she remained silent, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. He could see the sadness lingering in her expression, and it didn’t take much for him to piece together that the date hadn’t gone well. A part of him was furious; how could anyone make her feel like this? She deserved to be cherished, not hurt. If it were him… if only she were his… He clenched his jaw at the thought, forcing himself to stay calm.

But, he knew better than to push her to talk about it. Instead, he simply reached out and took her hand in his, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “You must be tired. How about we get you to bed, hmm?” he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that made her heart ache.

She nodded, still too caught up in her thoughts to speak. They walked in silence, Bucky leading the way while she followed just a step behind. Her eyes drifted down to their hands; knitly intertwined. His hand felt warm, comforting in a way that made her wish she could stay like this forever. The truth was, she didn’t even know why she kept trying to go out and date other men when the one she truly craved was right here, holding her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

But then, the doubts crept in, as they always did. She was self-sabotaging, she knew that. She kept telling herself that she wasn’t good enough for him, that he could never truly want someone like her. Someone who didn’t have Natasha’s confidence, her grace, her perfect everything. Why would he look at her the way she longed for him to, when he could have someone like that?

Despite all her doubts, she couldn’t ignore the way his touch made her feel. 

Safe. 

Wanted.

Y/N almost bumped into Bucky’s back when he suddenly stopped. She blinked in surprise, realising they had already arrived at her room. “Oh, we’re here”, she thought to herself, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. Bucky turned slightly, his gaze dropping to their still-intertwined hands before he gently led her to the door.

“Will you be alright, doll?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. His thumb moved in slow, comforting circles on the back of her hand, a gesture so natural it was almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

She nodded, but her response was barely more than a whisper. “Yeah…”

She tried to sound convincing, but her voice wavered, betraying the turmoil swirling inside her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, she was caught in the warmth of his gaze. Bucky looked at her with such tenderness, such genuine care, that it made the butterflies flutter wildly within her.

Bucky took a step closer, closing the small distance between them. His free hand reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with pure adoration. As he touched her, his fingers lingered slightly, savouring the softness of her skin. 

He took in every detail: her eyes, even puffy and red from crying, held a beauty that made his heart go mushy. The tears that had streaked down her cheeks were a testament to the raw emotion she was feeling, a vulnerability he wished to protect. Her skin was delicate, and the way her lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks. Despite the distress she was experiencing, she was still incredibly beautiful in his eyes.

Bucky’s gaze finally settled on her pink, pouty lips, he felt an overwhelming urge to press his own lips against hers, if not to comfort her, then to taste the sweetness that he imagined was there. The thought of kissing her once, just once; seemed to consume him. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincere admiration, hoping to convey just how deeply he felt about her.

But Y/N’s reaction was not what he expected. The words, rather than warming her, seemed to chill her further. She didn’t think he was insulting her by blatantly lying to her face; she just couldn’t bring herself to believe that he truly meant it. It sounded to her like a polite gesture, just another way of saying something nice in the face of her misery; a form of lip service.

Her lips twisted into a small, almost imperceptible frown, and she quickly looked away, her gaze falling to the floor. It was as if her brain refused to process the sincerity in his tone, unable to reconcile his words with the image she had of herself.

She scoffed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Yeah, thanks,” she said, unable to fully accept the compliment.

Bucky’s hand stilled on hers, his thumb halting its comforting motion as her response sank in. He was taken aback, not by any notion of insult, but by the realisation that she didn’t seem to believe the sincerity of his words. His brows furrowed with concern, and he stepped even closer, his body nearly touching hers. His hands came back to gently hold her face, tilting it up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You are beautiful. You always are.”

He searched her eyes, silently pleading with her to see herself through his eyes. His tone was unwavering, full of the affection he felt for her. 

But even as she looked into those blue eyes, the doubts that clouded her mind made it hard to fully accept his compliment. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that Bucky’s words were anything more than a kind attempt to cheer her up. The sincerity in his eyes was almost too much to process. Even if his compliments were meant to lift her spirits without fully reflecting his true feelings, she appreciated his kindness more than she could express.

A soft, fond smile appeared on her lips as she took in his earnest expression. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured, her voice tender. Gently, she stood on tiptoe, reaching up to pull him closer. With a delicate touch, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a brief moment, and she whispered against his skin, her breath warm, “Thank you for saying that, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart pounded wildly in his chest as Y/N’s lips brushed against his cheek. The soft, lingering touch of her kiss, combined with the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume, overwhelmed his senses. But when she pulled away, he felt a rush of heat flood through him, his control slipping. 

Overcome by an intense wave of feelings, Bucky pulled her back to him with a force and urgency that surprised even him. As he did, he could feel the warmth of her soft body pressing against his own, her delicate form moulding perfectly against him. He snuggled into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent, which seemed to envelop him entirely.

His lips found her neck, and he kissed her with a fervour that spoke of his overwhelming need. Each kiss was infused with a deep, desperate longing that he could no longer contain. Y/N didn’t push him away; instead, she clung to him, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort and reassurance in his embrace. The contact between them was electric, and the soft moans that escaped her lips only fueled his desire further.

When she leaned in closer, a low, guttural growl escaped Bucky. He responded eagerly as he sucked gently on her skin, enjoying the taste of her as his hands roamed over her back and sides, his touch possessive and desperate. His palms pawed at every curve he could reach, exploring her with a need that bordered on frantic.

Y/N’s moan was soft, a sound that almost drove him further into the depths of his desire. But as the sound of her pleasure reached his ears, reality hit him like a splash of cold water. He realised what he had done; his actions were driven by raw, sinful need rather than the tenderness he had intended; that she deserved. The realisation struck him hard, making him feel as though he had somehow taken something that wasn’t his to claim. 

So he pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he stammered, his voice heavy with contrition. “I didn’t mean—”

But then, it was as if time slowed, allowing him to savour every delicate moment. As he pulled away, the sight that greeted him was almost more than he could handle. The tiny strap of her dress had slipped from her shoulders, revealing even more of the gentle curve of her cleavage, her doe-like eyes were fixed on him; hazed and heavy with emotion, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, “Bucky…?”

The rush of desire he was so desperately trying to hold off, surged back through him, intensified by the vulnerability displayed before him. Bucky was barely able to maintain control. His heart raced, and the urge to be close to her again, to touch her, became nearly unbearable. In a moment of desperation and need, he guided her into her room, almost too urgent, too needy.

Once inside, Bucky pinned her gently against the door, his body pressing close to hers as he closed it with a soft click. His arms braced on either side of her, trapping her in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and electrified. The intensity in his gaze was palpable as he looked down at her, the hunger in his eyes undeniable.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he growled, his voice low and raw with yearning. “Please, let me touch you.”

His plea was a mix of desperation and want, a testament to how deeply he felt for her, even as he grappled with the boundaries he had momentarily crossed. The room was filled with an electrifying silence, broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing and the lingering intensity of the moment.

The voice she let out was almost too quiet, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “You want to touch me?” The question was almost a whisper, her eyes searching his ocean blues for the truth.

Bucky’s response was immediate, driven by the urgent need that surged through him. When his body responded faster than his words. He pressed his hardened bulge against her thigh, the physical evidence of his desire unmistakable. “Hmm, I wanna touch you, kiss you… want you so bad,” he murmured, his voice thick with desperation and lust.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the feeling of him against her, and her own passion began to match his intensity. “Touch me, Bucky,” she breathed out, her voice trembling with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. “Want you too. Want you all over me.”

His response was immediate. Bucky crashed his lips onto hers in a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together as moans and groans filled the space between them. He effortlessly lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed. The heat between them was unfiltered, and as he laid her down, his hands were already working to strip himself of his clothes.

With a sensual precision, he unzipped her dress, whispering praises against her skin. But as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing more of her body, she hesitated. Her hands moved to cover her breasts, instinctively hiding the marks she had always felt so self-conscious about. The events of the night had taken their toll, and though she wanted to believe him, doubt crept in.

Bucky noticed the shift in her eyes, the uncertainty that dimmed her earlier confidence. He paused, his gaze softening as he gently coaxed her. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, doll,” he murmured, his voice tender and reassuring. “You’re safe with me.” his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her skin as he waited for her to continue.

She hesitated, then took a deep breath, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “It’s just… the stretch marks,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “My date tonight, he left because of them. It’s happened before, and I—I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help feeling like they’re… ugly.”

Bucky’s heart twisted at her words, anger flaring briefly at the thought of anyone making her feel this way. But he forced himself to remain calm, to be the comfort she needed. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, sending shivers down her spine as he tried to ease her worries. “Well, aren’t I lucky to have these all to myself?” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

She whined softly, her tone serious. “I’m being serious, Bucky.”

His expression sobered, his brow furrowing with concern. “So am I.”

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet firm, “...there is nothing ugly about you. Not your stretch marks, not anything. I’m so sorry those idiots couldn’t see that. But I do. And I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He watched as her defences slowly crumbled, her eyes searching his; for any sign of insincerity, but finding none. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice wavering.

Bucky’s lips curled into a tender smile, “I’m very sure, Y/N. You have no idea how obsessed I am with you. All of you.” his hands gently pried hers away from her chest, revealing the parts of her that she wanted to hide the most. The sight before him made his cock twitch, arousal leaking from the tip as he took her in, completely captivated. “And these stretch marks?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper as his fingers traced over the marks on her skin. 

Y/N’s body responded instinctively. A shiver ran through her, her breath hitching at the sensation of his touch. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the coolness of the air, making her skin tingle where he caressed her. 

“Fuck, I love them.” His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as he continued, “They’re proof of how your body adapts, changes, grows. It’s like your skin’s telling a story, and every line, every mark, is beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against one of the marks, his lips lingering as he added, “You’re a masterpiece, babydoll, every inch of you.” His words were heavy with pure hunger, his admiration clear as he looked up at her, eyes dark with passion.

Bucky's breath was warm against her skin, the contrast between his sweet words and the raw hunger in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. As he leaned in, his lips brushed softly over the stretch marks he had just praised, and then his kisses deepened, becoming more fervent. He trailed his mouth along the curve of her breast, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin before he began to suck, leaving his own mark on her as if staking a claim.

Her body responded instantly, arching toward him, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. The combination of his hot mouth on her breast and the cool metal of his fingers tracing circles on her other nipple sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. His metal thumb and index finger rolled the sensitive bud, each movement sending a jolt of sensation that made her gasp, her breaths coming in short, rapid bursts.

Bucky didn’t stop there. He switched sides, his tongue flicking over her other nipple before capturing it between his lips, sucking and nibbling in a way that made her toes curl. Every touch was deliberate, meant to drive her wild, and it was working. Her hands found their way into his hair, tugging gently as if to anchor herself to reality amid the whirlwind of pleasure he was creating.

As his mouth worshipped her breasts, his fleshed hand began a slow descent, sliding across her stomach and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he reached the edge of her panties, he paused, revelling in the moment before pressing his flesh fingers against the soaked fabric. A low, approving growl rumbled in his chest as he felt how wet she was for him, the sound vibrating against her skin and making her moan louder.

He started to rub her clothed pussy with agonising slowness, applying just enough pressure to make her hips buck toward him, seeking more. His thumb found her clit through the fabric, rubbing slow circles that had her whimpering his name, her body begging for more of his touch. 

The dual sensations of his mouth and metal hand on her breasts and his warm fingers rubbing her pussy were too much. She was on fire, her entire body trembling under his touch, her mind lost in the addicting pleasure. Every nerve ending was alive with sensation, her moans growing louder as he increased the pressure, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure he was giving her.

Bucky, too, was lost in the moment. He groaned against her skin, the taste of her driving him insane. The way she reacted to his touch, the way she moaned his name, only fueled his desire. He needed more of her, needed to make her feel just how much he wanted her.

With a growl of pure need, he slid his hand under the waistband of her panties, and pulled the last piece of fabric off her. His fingers find her wet folds, slipping between them. "Fuck, babydoll, you're so wet for me,"  he murmured, his voice rough with passion. The way she responded to his touch only made him more desperate to worship every inch of her.

As his fingers moved inside her, Bucky’s thumb continued to circle her clit, the sensations pushing her closer and closer to the edge. His mouth and metal hand never left her breasts, continuing to tease her nipples until she was writhing beneath him. Her moans were desperate now, her body begging for release, and Bucky was more than happy to give it to her.

He pulled back for a moment, looking up at her with dark, adoring eyes. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispered, pressing kisses along her chest. "I love the way you feel. Every part of you is perfect." His praises were soft, sincere, each word filled with pure admiration.

When he curled his fingers just right inside her, she arched off the bed, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her reaction. "Fuck, you’re incredible" he groaned, adding a second finger and feeling her tighten around him. “Love the way you taste, how you feel... hmmm, I need you so bad, Y/N” He was relentless yet tender, his every movement calculated to bring her to the edge of pleasure.

His lips found her breast again, tongue flicking over her nipple as he sucked and kissed her sensitive skin. His free hand never stopped caressing her, moving from her breast down to her stomach, then back to her other nipple, never leaving her wanting. "I wanna hear you scream for me, wanna feel you cum all over my fingers,” he growled between kisses, his words thick with arousal. 

Bucky’s thick fingers worked inside her with deliberate intensity, each thrust pushing deeper into her soaked core. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, his movements rhythmic and forceful. With each thrust, her wet juices squirted out, dripping and mixing with his harsh movements. The slick sound of his fingers sliding in and out, combined with the feeling of her arousal, drove him feral. His pace grew faster, his fingers curling and stroking with expert precision, drawing out her moans and cries of pleasure.

Y/N’s body responded to every touch, every word, her hips grinding against his hand as she chased the pleasure he was giving her. She was so close, so desperately close, and when Bucky twisted his fingers inside her, in places she never was able to reach before, and her world exploded in a blinding rush of pleasure. 

Bucky kept hitting that right spot inside her in every deep plunge of his fingers, until he could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling with the approach of her orgasm. His own need was growing unbearable, the taste of her nipples, the feel of her wet hole, driving him to the brink. He moaned against her breast, his voice thick with arousal as he told her how beautiful she was, how much he needed her, how much he loved the way she felt around him.

As her moans turned into desperate whimpers, he groaned in response. "That’s it, babydoll, let go for me. Let me feel how much you need this, need me," he urged, his voice thick with arousal. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and his fingers pumped faster, pushing her closer and closer. “Cum for me yeah, fucking cum for me that’s it angel.”

“Buckyyyy”, She cried out his name, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Bucky groaned in response, feeling her tighten around his fingers, her pleasure only increasing make his cock throbbed with need.

He continued to move his hand, "So perfect. So fucking perfect." drawing out her orgasm until she was left panting, trembling beneath him. Only then did he finally pull his fingers from her, his hand wet with her arousal, and brought them to his lips, tasting her with a deep, satisfied groan.

Bucky’s own need was reaching a fever pitch, the taste of her, the feel of her soaking wet pussy gripping his fingers was too much to bear any longer. "Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you, can’t wait to make you mine," he moaned, his lips trailing down her body, leaving a path of hot kisses.

Bucky’s cock was almost unbearable as he pressed himself against her, his hard cock sliding between her drenched folds. Every night, he had fantasized about this moment, dreaming of the warmth and wetness of her body. So many nights, he’d ended up frustrated; his cum laid there wasted on his abs as he jerked off to thoughts of her.

Now, finally feeling her hot and wet against him, he was nearly driven mad with raging lust. He groaned softly, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His cock, heavy and throbbing, glided between her folds with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Each stroke elicited a shiver from her, her body sensitive and responsive from their earlier intimacy.

Bucky’s movements were urgent and almost primal. He humped against her, his moans a testament to his pleasure. “Fuck babyyy, you feel so amazing," he rasped, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. "You’re so fucking wet, Y/N. I’ve wanted this for so long, and it feels so. fucking. good."

Y/N’s has been a moaning mess under him, her body still tingling from the previous orgasm. The lingering sensations of his thick fingers inside her made every touch feel electric. Now, with his big, thick cock rubbing against her, her pussy twitched and pulsed in response.Each stroke was a jolt of heat, his tip bumping against her clit with every movement. Her hips trembled under his tight grip, her body reacting intensely to the pleasure.

Bucky’s moans were guttural, full of raw need as he lost himself in the sensation. "I’m not even inside you yet, angel," his cock rubbing insistently against her sensitive flesh as he panted, his voice trembling with desperation. "But, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum."

“Hmmm, Bucky… Bucky, please,” she whined, her voice trembling with need. “Feels so good… oh fuck! Cum on me, cum on me please...” Her words were almost incoherent, her pleasure overflowed from within, her body quivering and almost drooling from the way his cock was rubbing against her needy cunt.

Lost in his own world of lust, Bucky couldn’t get enough of her. He worshipped her pussy with a passion that left him breathless, his dirty talk coming out in desperate, needy groans. "You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. I can’t get enough of you," he rasped. "You’re driving me insane. I want to mark you, claim you completely."

Their pleasure reached higher, each thrust and touch sending them both spiraling towards their orgasms. Bucky’s thrusts grew harsher, more insistent, as he chanted, “I’m cumming, doll. I’m cumming so hard.” His voice was raw with need, his body moving with a frenzied desire.

She was pleading, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “Please, please, please…” Her words were breathless, each plea a testament to the intensity of their shared ecstasy. “I’m cumming, cumming on you baby, ‘m cummingg fuckkk,,”Bucky whined in absolute pleasure.

As they both came together, Bucky’s release was intense and overwhelming. His cock throbbed and twitched with every spasm, cum spilling endlessly from his tip in hot, thick ropes. Each pulse of his orgasm sent more of his seed dripping down onto her, coating her skin with the evidence of their union.

Even in the throes of his orgasm, Bucky continued to rub desperately against her twitching pussy, his movements frantic and unrelenting. “Still cumming for you, baby, paint you so pretty with my cum,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. The heat and friction were almost too much, his need to feel her and mark her as his luring him to continue. His cum painted a path up to her breasts, the warmth of it a vivid testament to his desire and dominance. 

He marked her completely, his release a physical declaration of his claim.

As Bucky’s release subsided, he looked down at her with eyes still feral and full of desire. She lay beneath him, breathing heavily, her body still quivering from the intensity of their climax. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So gorgeous, covered with my cream,” he murmured, his voice rough and slow. He lazily rubbed his still-hard cock against her swollen pussy, his movements deliberate and teasing. “Now I’m gonna paint your insides, then fill you to the brim.”

Her whimpers of need were barely coherent. “Please, wanna feel your cum inside me so bad,” she begged, her voice trembling with craving.

Bucky slipped inside her easily, his cock finding its way with a smooth, satisfying glide. “So fuckin’ tight, shittt,” he groaned, feeling the exquisite heat of her around him. His thrusts were powerful and deep, each movement sending waves of pleasure through them both. “Tight little pussy’s mine,” he growled. “You take me so perfect, baby.”

His filthy words gradually transformed into sincere praise, his voice softening with affection. “You’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands exploring her body with tender care. One hand played with her clit, rubbing it with a skilled touch that made her moan and writhe beneath him. The other hand teased her nipple, tugging it gently as he thrust harder and deeper.

And as Bucky continued to thrust into her, the sound of their bodies connecting was raw and unrestrained, each movement accompanied by the slick, wet noises of their joined pleasure. Despite the intensity, their dialogue remained tender and sweet. “I love you, Y/N,” Bucky whispered lovingly, his voice a mix of pleasure and adoration. “I love you so much, doll.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Normally, such words would be met with doubt, but the way his cock was filling her completely, the intense pleasure he was giving her, and the look in his eyes—filled with an earnest, almost desperate longing—made it impossible to ignore. 

She moaned in response, her own voice trembling with emotion. “I love you too, Bucky,” she gasped, her words mingling with the sounds of their physical connection. 

Bucky’s thrusts grew more deep and harsh as he neared his climax. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands rubbing a tight circle on her clit and tugging at her nipple. “Now, take my fucking cum.”

When Bucky finally released inside her, the sensation was nothing he ever felt before. He felt so good his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open. His cock pulsing and throbbing with each spasm of his orgasm. His endless cream was flooding her, and with every thrust, it leaked out, creating a hot, sticky mess. The warmth and thickness of his release filled her completely, and the sensation of it escaping with each of his movements made him groan in pleasure.

Even as Bucky reached his high, he continued to fuck her through it, each thrust pushing his cum deeper into her. “You take me so well,” he moaned, his voice thick with emotion and need. Her own pleasure was amplified by the sensation of his cum inside her, her body responding eagerly to each thrust.

Afterward, Bucky remained inside her, relishing the intimate connection. He carefully cleaned the traces of his cum from her skin, his tongue gently licking and slurping it clean. “You’re perfect, babydoll,” he praised between licks, his voice soft and affectionate. “So beautiful, so fucking amazing.” He took his time, his lips brushing against her with care. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” he murmured. “You feel so good, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

She responded with soft moans and shivers of pleasure, her body reacting eagerly to his touches. Each lick and gentle caress made her quiver, her breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts as she felt his adoration and need. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the sensation of being worshipped so completely.

Occasionally, Bucky would grind into her, savouring the way her pussy tightened around him, deepening his pleasure. “You’re such a fucking treasure,” he continued, his voice a blend of awe and desire. “I can’t get enough of you. You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.” She whimpered needily, her body responding to his movements with a mix of pleasure and longing.

He continued to move his hips against her, thrusting with a renewed sense of urgency and need. “It’s gonna be a long night ahead, baby,” he murmured, his voice filled with determination and passion. “I’m not gonna let you leave this bed until the only thing that leaks out of you is me.”

With that, he pressed into her once more, his movements both firm and tender, as he prepared for another round of intense, passionate connection.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Been collecting dust in my drafts for way too long. Now lemme hear your thoughts. Please? 🥹 And go send @mercurial-chuckles some love!

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

What Happens in the Shadows

Title: What Happens in the Shadows

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Word Count: ~5,155

In which Mimzy has suspicions about Alastor’s feelings towards the reader, and plans to use them to her advantage.

A/N: Part 4 of my Never and Always series

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (attempted assault), angst, fluff

Mimzy was a lot of things. She was loud, she was brash, she was showy, and she was bold. She was also, however, good at picking up a scent. Whether it was a good deal to be made, money to be earned, or an advantage to be won, Mimzy was there.

This usually led to one of two things.

One, she would get too confident, pushing herself into a corner when the tables inevitably turned against her, leaving her scrambling to the closest ally she had as a defense.

The second option was much more rare, when she would take her time, allowing herself to gather enough facts to truly know a demon’s weaknesses before pouncing and closing a deal. Though it didn’t happen often, those that did manage to fall under Mimzy’s control were there for eternity, serving and slaving away as she ever so slowly gathered more power.

Mimzy was ever so hungry for power, after all, even if she was bad at obtaining it.

Which is why, when she witnessed the small spectacle at her club between her dear friend Alastor and a lowly sinner who had done nothing but dance with a woman, the gears in her head had started to turn.

She had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the Radio Demon would have her head if she so much as breathed a word of it. 

But he couldn’t stop her from thinking. He couldn’t stop her from watching. He couldn’t stop her from noticing. And he most definitely couldn’t stop her from coming.

~~~

“Ya think ya boyfriend would let mine go if you asked nicely?”

You flushed and looked away. “Alastor is not my boyfriend.”

Angel Dust winked over at you. “Uh-huh, sure. Whateva ya say, dollface.”

“He’s not,” you insisted. “We’re just friends.”

From his place behind the hotel bar, Husk put down the cup he was cleaning and looked up at you. “You and Angel are ‘just friends’. You and me? Just friends. You and Alastor?” He shook his head, picking up a new cup as he looked over at you with an expression of vague concern. “You’re more than that.”

“Ha!” Angel said as he pointed over at Husk in triumph.

You could feel embarrassment pooling into your stomach. “You’re both wrong. Al doesn’t-” you struggled to find the words. “Al doesn’t like anyone that way,” you said hesitantly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t like me that way. He just feels responsible for me now, that’s all.”

Husk huffed lightly, his eyes narrowing. “Alastor’s never felt responsible for anyone in his life. Not for the souls he’s collected, and definitely not for a sinner that doesn’t owe him any more than the dirt on her shoes.”

You looked away. “I do owe him,” you muttered. “He saved my life.”

Angel laughed forcefully. “That was his choice, toots. You don’t owe him nothin’, ya hear me?” He glanced over at you, his expression bordering on desperation as he searched your eyes. 

Maybe you didn’t agree, but it wouldn’t do anybody any good to have Angel and Husk worrying over you with each passing moment while you stubbornly believed that Alastor was a good man who had earned your trust long ago.

So instead, you nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Angel nodded firmly, but the concern in his eyes was still overwhelmingly present.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but you wished with all of your undead heart that the three most important people in your life would just get along. Not that it would ever happen while Alastor held Husk’s soul. 

You let out a long exhale before you clapped your hands together and smiled over at the hotel’s bartender. “Alright, enough of that.” 

Angel Dust’s expression relaxed as he turned to Husk as well. “She’s right. Pour me a drink.”

Husk returned your grin with one of his own, pouring the three of you a glass and sliding yours over.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, staring down at your drinks as you thought. You couldn’t say exactly what was going on in Husk and Angel’s heads, but you knew that you personally were thinking about a specific radio-themed Overlord. 

You hadn’t seen Alastor since the two of you had danced together in your bedroom a few days prior. It made sense that you hadn’t seen him the day after, of course. It was your day with Angel, and Alastor would love nothing less than to get involved in your makeover session.

The days after that though, were different. Normally, you’d at least catch a glimpse of the demon before he left the hotel to run his radio show or do whatever else Overlords did in their free time. If you weren’t able to catch him before he left, he would always drop by the hotel a little later on, even if just for a moment. But no matter what, he would always stop by your room at the end of the day, and the two of you would just talk.

But now, you hadn’t seen or heard from Alastor in days. You weren’t worried, per say. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. You did miss him, though, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to your next evening conversation. 

You drummed your hands lightly on the counter before shifting off of your barstool. It wasn’t likely that Alastor had finally stopped by, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Angel Dust quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. “Sure thing, toots. Just goin’ to bed, nothin’ to do with Smiles at all, right?”

You blushed and turned away, walking towards the staircase leading up to your room. “Goodnight.”

“Have fun,” Angel called up after you as you climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to your room as quickly as possible. 

You breathed a deep sigh of relief when you were able to reach your bedroom without any more comments from Angel. Though, that was probably courtesy of Husk. You made a mental note to thank him in the morning.

You closed your door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh. 

Something flitted across your vision. You jerked back.

The object popped up in front of you, causing you to bite back a scream before you recognized it as Alastor’s shadow. 

You huffed in annoyance and pushed away from your door, walking around the shadow and making your way to your bed before plopping yourself down. “That was absolutely unnecessary,” you said.

The shadow only smiled, quickly weaving its way over to sit beside you. It took your hand and raised it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

You blushed. “Fine, I forgive you,” you said with a giggle. 

The shadow’s smile broadened, using its other hand to gently put its claws to your throat as your laughter slowed.

“Not that I don’t love to see you,” you said as your eyes took a quick scan of your room. “But where’s Alastor?” The shadow made a small noise before reaching back and pulling a note off of your nightstand. It turned your hand over to place the folded piece of paper in your palm. 

You pulled your hand back and opened the note, your eyes skimming over it as you tried to keep your heart from sinking. 

It was a short note, and straight to the point. Alastor wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel that night due to some unfinished business with gaining new territory. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He wished you a good night.

You folded the note again and placed it in between yourself and the shadow. “It’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I understand.”

But the shadow’s smile had lessened significantly, and it stared at you almost expectantly.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “I know he’s busy. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

The shadow looked unconvinced. But, you noticed with disappointment, its eyes had started to flicker back to your window. 

“You need to go,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

The shadow looked back at you regretfully.

You reached out and placed your hands on its cheeks, lowering its head until your foreheads touched. “I’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “I promise.”

You released it and moved back.

The shadow caught your hands and pulled you back in, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before pressing them to its chest where its beating heart would have been. It gave you one last long look before it released you and melted back into the shadows, disappearing out your window.

You stared after it for a moment. Part of you wished that it had been Alastor who had come into your room and kissed your palms goodnight. The other, less selfish part of you knew that he had done the best that he could, and you appreciated it more than words could say.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” a voice said from the other side of your room.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you spun around, searching for its source.

Mimzy stepped forward from the shadows and gave you a sickening smile. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“What are you doing here?” you blurted without thinking. Your hands clutched your bed sheets as she approached you as casually as you would approach a friend in public. But you weren’t in public. And you most definitely weren’t friends.

“Oh, don’t give me that, doll,” Mimzy said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been dying to see you ever since Al brought you to my club.”

“Why?” you asked before pressing your lips together. It wouldn’t do you any good to antagonize her, you knew. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “What do you want from me?”

A small voice in the back of your head wondered how she had managed to slink into the shadows and avoid Alastor’s. Shadows were part of his domain, after all. Shouldn’t he have sensed her?

Mimzy’s smile changed into something more sinister. “I don’t want anything from you, doll. You’re a sweet little thing, but-” she looked you up and down with a note of disdain. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make me much revenue.”

You felt an anger flare up inside of you. You stood, crossing your arms and pasting what you hoped was a firm expression on your face. “If you don’t want anything from me, why go out of your way to sneak into my room?”

The club owner’s smile only grew. “Relax, sugar, I’m not here to trick you into services. I’m here to talk about ol’ Alastor.”

You tried to hide the surprise and fear that shot through your core. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mimzy said with nonchalance as she began to stroll through your bedroom, poking at your belongings. “We both know that he tends to keep to himself. Not many friends, but loads of enemies, am I right? But he’s really just a sweetheart, that’s why we’ve been friends for years now.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

“But,” Mimzy continued, her voice oddly sweet. “I noticed the other night that he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

You dropped your arms and shook your head. “That’s not true. Alastor and I-”

Mimzy waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I’m not one to stir up unnecessary drama. But Al’s my friend, so I’ve been a bit worried about him since then.” She turned to look at you, her eyes boring intently into yours. “He’s an Overlord, you know. Lots of enemies. If any of them find out about you, think about what it’ll do to his reputation. Or worse,” she said, her eyes widening dramatically as she placed her hands on her cheeks. “His power.”

You flinched. 

If you were being honest, the very same thought had crossed your mind more than once. Every time you went out with Alastor, even for a brief moment, you worried about being seen with him. You worried what it would do for his image. 

He had been quick to ease your concerns, reassuring you that nobody would dare cross him, even if he were to be seen with you. 

Even so, you had noticed that he was careful to never touch you, and rarely ever look at you, when the two of you were in public.

But, it seemed, despite all of his precautions, that your night together at Mimzy’s might have started something that you had feared from the very beginning.

You swallowed heavily, meeting Mimzy’s gaze as you repeated the same words that Alastor had said to you, time and time again. “Nobody would dare cross the Radio Demon.”

Mimzy nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Of course they wouldn’t, sugar. But they might mess with you. And if Al cares about you half as much as I think he does, well, that’ll be enough to ruin everything that he’s ever worked for.”

You bit your lip with worry. You were never quite as good as Alastor when it came to hiding your emotions. “So why did you come to me?”

The demoness shrugged. “I knew Al would never listen if I told him that you were bad for him.”

You winced.

“But,” she continued, “I thought maybe you could convince him.”

An alarm bell began to ring in the back of your mind. “Convince him of what?” you asked wearily.

“To keep his distance from you,” Mimzy said, a little too quickly for your liking. “The longer you stick around, the more he gets attached. And the more he gets attached, well…” she smiled, her teeth sharp and her eyes dark. “The more likely it is that our old friend gets tossed out of commission.”

Your gaze hardened. “You want me to stay away from Al? Fat chance.”

Mimzy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Not at all, sugar. I won’t be the one who ripped the two of you apart.” She began walking towards your bedroom door. “In fact, I think you two are adorable together. But, you see, it’s not just Alastor I’m looking out for. I’ve gotta take care of myself, too,” she said as she turned to face you.

You recoiled at the sight of her hardened eyes and cruel expression.

Your bedroom door opened, revealing two large demons that closed the door behind them, blocking your exit. You whirled around as another demon entered through your window, cutting off your only other means of escape.

“Mimzy-” you began.

“Don’t you worry, doll. They can’t exactly kill you again, can they?” she giggled. “They’ll just rough you up a little so that Alastor can finally come to his senses.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as panic began to set in.

“Let me explain it in simple terms for you, hun. I need you to help me break Alastor and get him away from you. Whether or not you help me willingly is completely up to you,” she said with a shrug.

“If Al does care about me,” you said desperately, “then it won’t do any good for you to hurt me. This is just going to make things worse for him. It’ll make him angry. He’ll lash out.”

Mimzy’s eerie grin only grew in size. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar. I can’t exactly gain more territory with the Radio Demon breathing down everyone’s neck. If I can get to him through you, he’ll be too upset to think straight.” She chuckled. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be the cause of his own downfall. With him out of the way, things can be the way they’re meant to be.”

The three demons surrounding you came closer.

“Mimzy,” you gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Alastor’s one of your oldest friends, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The club owner tilted her head in consideration. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception.” Her teeth flashed. “If you were willing to cut a deal with me.”

The demons grew closer still.

You could feel your resolve faltering. One measly deal to get out of this mess didn’t sound too bad. But as you looked back over at Mimzy, her eyes flashing and her smile turning into a snarl, the voice in your head that screamed out to protect Alastor came to the forefront of your mind with full force. Any deal that you made with Mimzy would only be used to hurt Alastor, and you would never forget how you had met him in the first place.

He had saved you once. You weren’t going to make him save you again.

You straightened and stared straight into Mimzy’s eyes. “I hope you get what’s coming to you,” you spat.

The sinner shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Have fun, fellas!”

You heard your door open and close as the demons drew nearer, blocking your view. 

A deep fear spread throughout your body, starting in your chest and working its way out. You could scream, but you were almost certain that Mimzy had found a way to mute the sounds from your room to the rest of the hotel. Nobody was coming to save you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself as a feeling of regret shot through your heart. You had never thanked Husk for having your back. You had never finished your makeover with Anthony. You had never told your friends how much they had helped you, and how much you appreciated them.

You had never told Alastor that you loved him.

You let out a sob. You cursed yourself for crying.

A hand grabbed your arm roughly, your eyes flying open in horror. But before the demon could do so much as pull you closer, a shadow swept through your window and across the room, knocking the other two demons away from you. The third demon tightened his grip on your arm, but it was already much too late.

The lights in your room began to flicker as a new shadow entered your room. It grew in size, becoming more and more solid until it finally took the shape of one of the most feared Overlords in Hell.

“I do believe,” Alastor said to the last standing demon as his antlers began to grow and his eyes began to flicker. “You have something that belongs to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear the demon’s response before you shut your eyes and turned away. You knew what came next, and though you had yet to argue with Alastor over his methods, you had no wish to see them for yourself.

The demon’s hand was ripped from your arm. Even without your sight, you were able to hear the screams of all three intruders as Alastor and his shadow punished them a mere feet away from you.

You sank down onto the ground, keeping your eyes closed as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in your arms. The tears that had begun to flow earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance, making their way down your cheeks as you sobbed violently.

You’re safe. You’re safe. Al is here now. You’re safe, you thought to yourself as you pulled your knees in tighter.

But another, horrible voice spoke up as you cried. He wasn’t able to see Mimzy, it said. Why wasn’t he able to see Mimzy? If this happens again, will he know? Will he miss it? 

Can he save me?

You gasped and whipped your head up when a gentle hand brushed your arm.

Alastor was staring right back at you, kneeling on your floor. His smile was tense and close-lipped, his expression concerned. “It’s only me, mon chere.”

You glanced behind him and noticed vaguely that Mimzy’s three demons were nowhere to be seen.

Your chest began to hitch as you tried to hold your tears back. “I’m so sorry, Al,” you said, hating the way your voice broke. “I should have been able to defend myself, I’m so sorry.” The tears began again, your body slumping forward as you began to weep. 

A pair of arms caught you and gathered your body closer until you were resting against a warm chest. 

Al’s shadow, you thought to yourself as you nuzzled closer.

One of its arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, while its other hand grasped one of yours and pressed it to its chest. It held you tightly, allowing you to cry and hiccup into its shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before your sobs became whimpers, and your whimpers became hiccups. You weren’t sure how long it held you before you were able to breathe properly.

The hand holding yours released you gently, coming up to wipe your tears away from your face.

You finally opened your swollen eyes, already regretting having been found in such a vulnerable state. 

You came face to face with Alastor’s shadow. Holding Alastor’s staff.

Standing across the room.

You gasped and pulled back violently, causing yourself to fall out of Alastor’s lap and onto your floor. 

The Overlord didn’t react, instead watching you with an expressionless smile on his face.

“I thought you were your shadow,” you stammered. “I didn’t realize-”

“I do hope you aren’t going to apologize for reacting to the given situation, my dear,” Alastor said as he tilted his head at you. He sounded, much to your surprise, mildly annoyed.

You froze. “Are you mad at me?”

A flash of irritation appeared in the Overlord’s eyes as his teeth gleamed. “We’ve now spent a notable amount of time together. I do hope you know me a bit better than that.” His voice held a note of challenge.

You sniffed and brought your knees to your chest once again without a response.

Alastor’s eyes softened and his smile eased at the sight of your trembling form. He sighed, the sound revealing an internal exhaustion that he would never admit to out loud. “I assure you, mon chere, my anger does not lie with you.”

You nodded, looking away. 

Silence. Deep silence.

But you couldn’t avoid the upcoming conversation forever.

“People have seen us together, Al,” you finally said, your throat raw. You looked up at him. “People who want to take your power.”

You didn’t miss the way the demon’s smile tensed. 

“I won’t be the reason that you lose everything you’ve built so far,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

Alastor stood abruptly, climbing gracefully to his feet before offering you one of his clawed hands and pulling you up beside him.

He released you and grasped your chin in between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him. 

“Any demon who hopes to steal my power is going to find themselves sorely disappointed, my dear, regardless of whether or not your presence is noticed.” His eyes hardened. “I am more than capable of holding on to what I’ve gained.”

“You couldn’t sense Mimzy,” you blurted, regretting the words as they left your lips, but unable to stop them. “You didn’t realize she was there until-” you swallowed. “What if it happens again, but this time they come for you?” You hated how desperate you sounded. “What if they hurt you, Al?”

The Overlord tilted his head. His smile twitched and his grip only strengthened as he looked down at you with something resembling regret. “I do admit that both myself and my shadow were a bit distracted during its visit, and I do apologize for not preventing this whole ordeal before it ever began.”

“That’s not what I meant-” you started weakly.

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Though I can promise you that such a thing will never happen again, mon chere. Not while I still stand.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you doubted his ability to take care of you, of course. But because you didn’t want this added responsibility to prevent him from taking care of himself.

“I do hope,” the demon continued, the static in his voice suddenly disappearing as he searched your gaze. “That you haven’t finally begun to doubt me.”

You shook your head as well as you were able to with his fingers still clutching your jaw. “No,” you whispered. “Never.”

And in a rare display of courage, you reached out, placing your hands gently on either side of the Radio Demon’s face as he released your jaw. You pulled him down until your foreheads met. “Never,” you repeated, your voice firm. “And if you really aren’t worried, and you want me to stay, then I will.” You pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Alastor’s hands reached up and settled on top of yours as his eyes bore into you. “That’s quite the commitment, my dear,” he said. There was something strange in his voice, something that sounded almost like uncertainty, almost like tension, almost like fear.

Your grip on his face tightened as you looked up at him. “I mean it, Al. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. If you’re sure.”

Now, there were a great many things that Alastor would never do. He’d never make a deal that he wasn’t in control of. He’d never submit to the Vees. He’d never tell Charlie the real reason that he was in her hotel.

He’d never tell you that he loved you.

But, he found as he stared into your eyes, he would absolutely give up everything that he’d ever built if it meant that he got to keep you.

“I don’t intend to lose anything, my dear. Least of all you.”

You blushed, maintaining eye contact as a gentle smile took the place of your previous frown.

Alastor leaned forward. You followed his lead, expecting to press your forehead to his, when he surprised you by placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You pulled back and smiled up at him before pulling him down to place your own kiss on his cheek.

Maybe Mimzy was right. Maybe you were something of a danger to the Radio Demon. But you’d be double-damned if you were going to give up on him so easily.

“Now,” Alastor said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released you and stepped back. His shadow surged forward, returning Alastor’s staff to its rightful owner and standing behind its master with a chilling grin. 

Alastor faced you, his smile gentle and his eyes hard as the static returned to his voice with full force. “Would you care to give me the name of the foolish soul who tried to harm what was mine?”

~~~

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in days.

Three new screams had joined the Radio Demon’s broadcast.

You’d been too afraid to leave the hotel for a few days.

Alastor had begun checking your room every night before leaving you alone.

Nobody else at the hotel knew what had happened to you. Not even Angel and Husk.

You gained back your courage in the following weeks with help from Alastor.

The two of you had grown closer than ever.

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in weeks.

~~~

You leaned back against your bed’s headboard, watching as Alastor had his shadow sweep through your room once again.

“I’m fine, Al,” you said, trying to contain your laughter. “Really. Nobody else is going to get in. There’s locks on the windows, and your room is close enough to be able to hear if something goes wrong.”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, though his eyes continued to roam around your room until he was satisfied.

He turned to you with a grin. “I’m only protecting what is mine, mon cœur.” He turned to your door, walking away from you with his shadow following close behind. “I do expect to see you bright and early in the morning for a short stroll.”

It was your turn to hum in agreement. 

You were more than thrilled with the offer, of course, but you felt a sense of unease that threatened to keep you up all night. You didn’t doubt Alastor’s abilities, of course, but you worried about what might happen to him if he was attacked while he was momentarily distracted with keeping you safe.

Alastor’s hand reached towards your doorknob. “I bid you a good night, my dear.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you blurted before you could lose your courage.

Alastor froze in place, his hand hovering. His shadow, however, was much more reactive. It leapt up in excitement and made its way back over to your bed, jumping in beside you and nuzzling its head against your cheek. 

You giggled and pulled away, allowing the shadow to slowly run a clawed hand from the base of your throat up to your chin before looking back over at its owner.

He had turned to look at you, a fond expression on his face as he watched the interaction. 

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said hurriedly as your smile began to slip. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively before he made his way over to you. “You couldn’t pressure me if you tried, my dear.”

Your heart soared as you moved over, giving him enough room to not have to even brush against you during the night.

The Overlord climbed into your bed easily, settling against your headboard before looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep.”

You smiled. “Not at all.” You began to shuffle around to get comfortable and to avoid looking into his eyes when you said, “I just feel safer when you’re here, that’s all.”

The last words of your sentence had hardly left your lips before Alastor’s shadow finally moved from its place on your other side. You laughed as it nudged you over before wrapping its arms around you and pulling your back to its chest, giving you a sense of security that you had never found with anyone else.

You closed your eyes and nuzzled in, allowing yourself to be swept away in a wave of comfort and exhaustion. “Goodnight, Al,” you murmured as you drifted away. “Thank you. For everything.”

You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

So you didn’t see his eyes soften. You didn’t see him reach out and grasp one of your hands in his own. You didn’t see him lean down and press a soft kiss to your temple. You didn’t hear his last words before he began to doze as well. 

“Thank you, mon cœur.”

Part 5 Here!

A/N 2: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! This is an ongoing series, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

I’d also like to continue writing for Hazbin Hotel, so send me requests and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any those as well :))

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o @looking1016 @saturn-alone @sirens-and-moonflowers

[ofjunemoment]

getting even | lee haechan (P2)

synopsis —  Haechan promises you that he wasn't the one behind the prank. But he also tells you that he likes you. You're torn between which one you want to believe more.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 19k

content - camping, clubbing (again), smut (MDNI)

warnings: reader is drunk in one scene

a/n - YAYYYYYY here's the final part of getting even!! thank you for waiting patiently and I'm sorry it took this long,, thank you guys so much for your reactions and feedback on the first part, it definitely helped me finish this part quicker than I wouldve! i had so much fun with this haechan, and i hope you guys have fun with him <33 smut tags will be under the cut (not proofread sorry)

this is the second part of the getting even series! make sure to read the first part before reading this ^^

smut tags - fingering, unprotected sex (dont do this <3), oral (m receiving), praises, dirty talk?? like barely...., gets romantic and sappy in the middle sorry, lmk if I missed anything <3

“Is that everything?” Yubin scribbles at her clipboard as Juyeon closes the trunk of the van shut, clapping his hands together to rid of any excess dust.

“Seems like it,” Sohee speaks out softly, but her sigh is unmistakable. “But Jihoon is late. Again,” Everyone looks around for any sign of Jihoon, but it seems like your whole radio club is assembled but him.

“Ah, no worries. I just got a text from him saying he’s on the way. Something about Yubin wanting extra drinks…” Juyeon pipes up. Said club manager flushed as she got called out, waving her hand and scoffing in denial. “I didn’t say that! I just said, you know, that he should bring things to make the trip more… livelier?” For this semester's story scoop, your club had decided to make a trip to the rural farming areas just a few hour's drive south. Juyeon, the modern history major, had said that there was a grasshopper surge that he had decided to study for in his first year of course, which led to everyone being interested in how the farmers reacted to such a phenomenon. And so you all banded together and rented two vans and borrowed Yubin’s car, now filled with equipment and luggages, to stay in the town for two nights and conduct primary research on the topic.

Everyone seems excited one way or another for such an event, viewing this trip as a much-needed break from studying and assignments. Well, everyone except for your beloved friend, Naeun.

“I already feel sticky and we haven’t even started the trip,” Your selective germaphobic friend murmurs as she eyes the camping equipment that is being shoved at the back of the van by Minseok and Soyeon. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “You wouldn’t be complaining like this if Jeno was in the mix,” You lightly shove your shoulder against hers, giggling when she glares at you.

“Jokes on you, I would be saying the same thing. Just with different context,” You grimace at her suggestive brows fluttering at you. Still, before you can let your impulsive thoughts take over and strangle her, you hear the crunch of tires against asphalt. You are met with a car pulling up at the waiting area where your club is waiting.

Jihoon steps out of the car and daps up Juyeon and Minseok, while bowing politely and apologising for being late towards Sohee and Yubin. 

“If it makes you feel better I bought a lot of alcoh—” Yubin's sharp laugh cuts off the rest of his sentence as she smacks at his shoulder a few times, her cackles bordering like a threat. 

“You’re so young and dumb, running your mouth. Oh, to be youthful…now get your shit out of the car.” She pinches his shoulder before gesturing towards the vehicle he’d pulled up in.

“Actually, I was gonna ask for a favour too…” The rest of the sentence goes unnoticed by you as your attention catches on the car that Jihoon has just gotten out of. It seems like he wasn’t the only person, and you hadn’t realised that until the car doors had opened and out stepped Jeno and Haechan.

“No fucking way,” Naeun pales next to you, and the feeling is mutual as your eyes widen on reflex. “We should really try being scared of good grades instead,” 

Jeno steps out of the car holding a box filled with what looks like alcohol and snacks that go along, his sleeveless shirt highlighting his flexed biceps as he carries the box towards where Jihoon is gesturing. Haechan, too, steps out with a box in his grip, adorning a simple shirt and summer shorts, and you can’t pull your eye away from him. Jihoon has his friends distract Yubin and Sohee from his late arrival (it works on the former, not much on the latter) as he guides Haechan and Jeno to shove the boxes in the back of the van you’re taking.

“I even brought extra sleeping bags, they’re new so you don’t have to worry,” His smile stays on even when Yubin pinches at his cheek. “Look at you trying. Hey, we have two extra seats in the vans if you two want to join?” She ignores the sharp look she receives from Sohee as she looks at Jeno and Haechan, who give a glance at each other and then Jihoon, and back to Yubin.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have a game to practice for,” Jeno smiles, and you feel Naeun grip at your wrist. He casts a glance at you, which sends you into a shock before a smile takes over his features. Everyone’s now looking at Haechan, and there’s only one way he can react when he has this much attention on him.

“How could I reject such an offer,” He bats his lashes as Jihoon grapples him into a friendly headlock. 

“I’m done,” You mutter, as everyone bustles around you to get their items in the car, Juyeon and Haechan are discussing how to ration their clothes for the latter to use, while Jihoon pulls out a fully inflatable flamingo from the trunk of his car, trying to somehow persuade Sohee on bringing it along. 

“There isn’t even a pool there!”

“But there’s a lake, no?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. “Naeun, I’m so done,” Naeun relaxes his grip on your wrist when Jeno waves goodbye to everyone once Jihoon takes all his belongings out of the car. She pats your shoulder encouragingly, prioritising herself now that Jeno isn’t around to send her into a loop.

“You’ll be fine, I mean, he’s probably gonna be preoccupied with Jihoon. You probably won’t be able to even interact with him.”

True to her word, everything was fine. You didn’t even have to share an awkward greeting with him in front of everyone to save face and show that you get along well. Your tasks were assigned briefly by Sohee, and everything fit like it was planned to in the trunk of the vans.

You’re sitting in the back seat of one of the vehicles when the door opens and in comes Haechan. You do a mental check and realise that the only seats left are the two available ones next to you; although one was occupied by Juyeon’s massive skincare bag. As you were about to shove the bag in the middle seat and have Haechan sit on the opposite side, the bag was swiftly taken away by the owner himself.

“Ah, we need to make some space here for you to sit.” His sweet smile comes sinister in your eyes, as you see Haechan looking at the place before sparing a glance at you, the first of the day if anyone was keeping count. Not that you were. 

Seeing the caution in your eyes, he goes to settle himself on the opposite side, leaving the middle space empty for your comfort. As Haechan is trying to settle into the car seat, Jihoon takes a moment to glance inside before disappearing for a quick moment and returning with a pool toy, which he promptly hands to his friend.

“There’s no more space at the trunk,” He shoves it even more at Haechan’s side, making the boy tumble and fall into the middle seat instead, his hand coming in contact with yours. As you flinch, you just manage to realize what is happening before Jihoon closes the car door and heads to the passenger seat. Yubin starts the drive, and you find Naeun and Minseok in the middle row, with Naeun looking back at you with concern evident in her eyes.

You try to wave her off the best you can without Haechan realising, but it seems like he’s too preoccupied battling with the inflatable flamingo. “Why don’t you deflate it and inflate it when we get there?” He calls towards the front of the car at his friend.

Jihoon spins around from his seat and tries to look at Haechan through the gaps from the overshadowing pool toy. “This one’s weird, it doesn’t easily inflate again, so might as well just take it there while it’s fully filled. It’s not a tight fit for you two, is it?” 

Haechan gives the toy one more push and it’s angled in the least invasive way, yet his left side is pressed against you, and you can’t help but focus on the contact that his knee makes against yours, as the warmth of his skin travels easier with the skirt you’re wearing. You try your best to not look at the guy next to you, reminding yourself that it's only a two-hour drive, and you can probably try to sleep through most of it.

“No, we’re okay,” You ease Jihoon’s worries, who smiles brightly at you before turning back around.

Tucking yourself against the car, you try to find an angle that's most comfortable for you to fall asleep in, but while you’re shifting around something blankets your legs. When you open your eyes, you see Haechan placing a jacket on your leg. Where did he even pull this out from?

Looking at him, his gaze follows up from his jacket placed on your leg to your face, giving you a light smile as he tries his best to give you space even in the tight fit. Without a word, he folds himself against the flamingo toy and closes his eyes, ready to sleep. You want to thank him for his gesture, but as you see his breathing steady, you instead decide to follow his lead and shut your eyes, careful with his jacket against your legs. Soon, your eyelids begin to drift down, and your breaths become slower and deeper until you eventually slip into a restful sleep.

After what feels like a few hours, you awaken to find the van has stopped moving, and the rest of the club members have already gathered outside. You take the jacket in your hands and stretch your weary legs out before stepping outside, feeling the cool summer breeze against your face. Naeun’s the first person to realise that you’ve stepped out, waving her hand at you and gesturing you to join their circle.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” She teases when you catch up, bumping her shoulder against yours.

“Alright guys, there are four tents, three of them fitting two people and one fitting three. You can pair up and grab them and set up at this area.” Sohee ticks off things on the clipboard, not taking her eyes off of it as she informs your group. “Try to be done by one, we’ll take a drive down to the village area and have lunch before we take a look around and see if there’s anyone who’s willing to be interviewed.” People have started to gather their bags from around their feet, ready to set up the tents. “And be careful about the space, we don’t want to be too crowded because it’s already hot enough. I know the lake is just a few minutes walk away from here, but refrain fro—”

“Let’s start setting up, yeah?” Yubin claps her hands together, effectively cutting her partner off and letting everyone disperse. 

As you find an area to set up your tent, you’re not even done with hammering in the corners of the tent into the ground before you hear your friend groan. 

"I never imagined they'd make us actually set up our own tents on this trip," Naeun sighs.

"Oh, come on, it's not that hard," you retort. "Besides, it's all part of the experience, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that," Naeun laughs.

"Hey, I'm serious! This is meant to be fun," you reply with a smile. As you near the end of your process, you take a moment to look around the camping area. In the middle of a faux circle your tents are making is a general campfire and dock, where most of the snacks and drinks are placed, ready for consumption at later times in the day. Looking at everyone setting up their respective tents, you catch a glimpse of Haechan and Jihoon working diligently. Haechan’s back faces you as he hammers in the corner of his tents to the ground, and you’re only taken away from such a view when Naeun clears her throat.

“I’m innocent,” You don’t even look at her as you say this. Rolling her eyes at your helpless behaviour, your friend turns to the two of them setting up, before feigning a voice of interest. “Oh! Did you guys set up next to us? We’re neighbours now,” Jihoon looks up and smiles cheekily, indulging in your friends' reactions as he starts to talk about how excited he is about the trip. Meanwhile, Haechan merely glances at her, before his eyes shift past her figure and land on you. 

You shift in place at his gaze, meekly lifting a hand to wave hello, unable to think of anything else. A gleaming smile breaks out on his features as the corner of his lips tilts up, laughing at your awkward behaviour. You break eye contact, not wanting to spend another second subjecting yourself to being ridiculed like this. When you do, your eyes fall into the lent jacket folded and perched on top of your bag, a reminder that you’re yet to give it back.

When you and Naeun shove your bags into the tent and zip the entry close halfway, you hear a clap echo from behind you, where Yubin stands in the middle of the dock. 

“Is everyone done? Come around so we can do a quick brief before we go into the village,” When you all circle around her and the other club leader, a quick rundown is given to you of what is to expect when you head down to the village. You will all go around the village as a group, asking the residents about their knowledge of the grasshopper surge and if they’re willing to participate in a form of interview

The drive to the village was less squished as all the items you’ve packed have been unloaded, and you are able to view the beautiful scenery you had missed while asleep on the way here. Soyeon reaches over and tries to point at the best scenery for you to view, while Minseok tries to distract you by claiming to see a cow every few seconds.

You arrive at the village entrance, your windows rolled down to take in the fresh air and appreciate the charming farming fields spread out before you. The trees swing with the light summer breeze, while the shine of the sun highlights the bright-coloured fruits hanging off of the different gardens of each house. The houses are all clustered together, no doubt creating an easy atmosphere for friendliness between neighbours.

As you exit the van, your eyes slowly wander around to take in the sights of the village. Juyeon spots a few kids running around and playing with large hoola hoops, exchanging a friendly smile and wave with them. Both Yubin and Jihoon seem excited to wander around, quickly taking the opportunity to explore the quaint village by walking into the streets.

It’s quiet as you pass by the houses, with the people no doubt staying inside to have a nice lunch while staving off the heat. “I think there’s a good Naengmyeon store just a few minutes walk.” Sohee looks at both her phone and the clipboard alternatively, before starting her journey without a glance behind her. 

As you follow Sohee, you and Naeun walk side by side, taking in the fields and their vacancy. “It’s so serene,” she chimes.

You hum, “It must be so relaxing to live here, even the weather is good,” You stretch your arms out to get a better feel. “If I was living here I wouldn’t have a single complaint. I bet they all must be nice too,” 

“If I lived here,” Jihoon chimes, “I would be one of those old people that walks around with a stick I just found on the ground,” 

“I would live here with you,” Haechan adds with a smile. “Just so I can break your stick and laugh when you fall,” 

Jihoon jokingly goes to wrap his arms around Haechan, who tries to defend himself by delivering jabs into his friend’s waist. Your group laughs at their antics before suddenly being made to take a sharp left.

The quietness that existed two seconds before the turn is now all gone, as you’re met with the bustle of what you assume is the village centre. Market stalls litter around as kids run through their gaps. People gather around shaded decks, fanning themselves with various objects as middle-aged women gossip around. Even the two restaurants are bustling, but when Sohee goes to the one she had previously found, they miraculously provide tables for all nine of you, splitting into groups of four and five.

As fate would have it, you’re seated with Haechan and Jihoon, with the latter too oblivious to the stiff body language you and Naeun now harbour. Haechan provides a tight smile, but his friend goes on about how he’s starving. He calls for the owner of the place and orders your food.

The woman looks to be around sixty years old, and it’s obvious that you’re all thinking the same thoughts; she would be a good candidate to interview. “Anything else,” She jabs when you all silently look at her. 

Jihoon, ever the extrovert, sacrifices himself. “Ah, actually ma’am, I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but how old are you?” You can’t help but wince at his choice of sentence, now looking anywhere but at either one of their directions. Haechan purses his lips while Naeun coughs and goes to cover her face with her hand.

You feel more than hear her anger radiating off of the poor woman, as she shoves her hand into her apron pockets defensively. “My, talk about ‘not wanting to sound rude’,” She mocks. “Might as well ask what my income is, or better yet, the size of my br—”

“Please don’t misunderstand! I was just curious because I’m here to—”

“Just wait for your food and eat it diligently before I decide to kick you out,” Jihoon shrinks back in his seat, nodding his head solemnly. She tsks one more time before sauntering off, groaning and muttering under her breath as she goes.

“That couldn’t have gone any better,” Haechan pats his friend's shoulder, before tucking his chair further away from him, his foot bumping against you in the process. You share brief eye contact, about to share some awkward niceties before Jihoon goes to strangle him, something that occurs constantly it seems. You turn to Naeun, who looks back at you at the same time, with what you guess is the same bewilderment evident in your eyes. You burst out into laughter, leaning into one another as you take in what had happened

When you’ve all licked your bowls clean and had Jihoon semi-formally apologise for offending the lady, the group decided to saunter around the centre in order to find people to interview. 

“Okay, not a hard task.” Yubin looks at the clipboard that Sohee holds in her grasp, turning back to look at all of you. “We just need to be friendly, and boom, interview opportunity. But in case that doesn’t work, let’s have Jihoon-” The boy in question groans, “And Soyeon go around and try to conduct a mini questionnaire. Just simple questions like how long they’ve lived here, what their occupation is, and then find a leeway to ask about the grasshoppers.” Yubin clasps her hands together, and when no one budges, she starts shooing you off. Jihoon and Soyeon, the two clear extroverts of the group walk away, while Minseok starts dragging Juyon in the direction of a doughnut shop he wanted to try. Yubin and Sohee have their own way of handling things, which leaves you with Haechan and Naeun.

Naeun decides to be the icebreaker this time around, as she turns to both Haechan and you. “Yay! We’re our own trio now,” She makes some jazz hands as she says, “Just like old times in the Beehive club,” Your smile turns sour at the mention of the club.

You cross your hands in front of you in thought. “How can we approach someone about this?” You questioned out loud, but Haechan smiled at you before patting a hand on his chest.

“I can charm anyone over the age of fourty-five, it’s a hidden talent of mine. Alongside being able to juggle five things at the same time—”

“—There’s no way you can juggle five things at the same time.”

“... Do you want my help or not?” You and Naeun shove two thumbs up each in motivation before the boy takes a deep breath and starts scanning the area. With the bustle of lunchtime, there are a lot of people going around, some now setting up their dessert market stalls. 

Haechan shoots his chance by going up to a grandpa who walks by, wearing long sleeves and pants to stave off the burn of the sunlight. “Hi, sorry to bother but do you think you would be… interested…” The man kept walking as if nothing had happened, barely blinking when Haechan had come up to him. “Okay, that’s okay. Maybe he was hard of hearing?” As if on cue, the man waves as someone calls his name, going up to them and maintaining a conversation.

Now you have to find someone else. Simultaneously, all of your gazes fall on this one old lady pushing her cart, with a bit of a struggle if the minute movements of the cart are anything to go by.

Haechan makes his way through to her. “Aye, it must be hard for you to carry all of this alone. Let me help you miss,” He flashes his charming smile and you can’t help but find him endearing. In the summer heat, his cheeks look warmer than usual, as the shine of the sun reflects off his skin gleamingly. He looks cute, and you suddenly feel a sort of ache bloom in you.

The grandma squints for a while as she looks up at Haechan’s figure looming over her, and you would too if you were in her position; he’s practically beaming. But when she lifts her hand off of the handles of the carriage, it isn’t to give the boy reign but rather to deliver a hard-hitting smack at his shoulder.

You flinch and Naeun lets out a shocked shriek, as Haechan’s eyes widen, hand coming up to his bicep as he steps back.

“Damn city boy, you’re in my way!” She trudges off, and you all can’t help but look at her retreating back, the ring of her cart mocking your attempts.

It was difficult to try again after those failed attempts (you found it cute as Haechan would pout every now and then while he rubbed at his shoulder), but when Minseok and Juyeon had come back with three successful participants, you had all suddenly felt extremely competitive. 

And so you tried again, and again, and once more. Finally, a lady who was selling tanghulu had asked about your reason for visiting this town, to which she had nodded earnestly when finding out you were here to know more about the grasshopper surge. She later agreed enthusiastically when you had asked with your sweetest voice if she doesn’t mind being interviewed about it, going as far as to invite you to her house.

“Ah, we don’t wanna intrude on your privacy,” You had started shaking your hands about, but the lady merely tched at your behaviour. “Nonsense, if anything, you can do me a favour by coming in and keeping me company,” She gestured at her meek stall, and you couldn’t help but smile sweetly and nod.

With all of the interviews and mini-questionnaires secured, your group popped back into the van and ventured back to your camping grounds. Your village centre trip had taken a few hours to finish, and it was no surprise that by the time you had gone back, it was dark, and you were hungry once more.

Soyeon giggled next to you when she heard your stomach grumble. “I can make a mean shin ramen if you’d like,” You were about to bashfully thank her for offering before Juyeon loudly spoke up.

“You’re hungry too right? See Yubin, we should start the fire and barbeque now!” A bit more whining occurs before the fire pit is finally lit. In the dark of the summer night, a light breeze still comes around now and then. You drape a blanket stolen from your tent over your and Naeun’s legs, sitting on the log as everyone tends to a different part of the camping experience.

Yubin and Juyeon get busy with making the food, while Jihoon crowns himself as the bartender of the night, but instead of mixing drinks he merely passes them around and encourages everyone to take a sip before the food gets ready. Sohee quietly sets up a corner of the circle for smores to be made without risking the marshmallows from catching on fire, and a bit to her left sits Haechan, who sips at his bottle of beer while looking at the fire.

It seems like even the warm tone of the fire compliments his skin a lot, and you can’t help but look in his direction constantly, your eyes not wanting to look away. Naeun drones about a cute bag she had seen in the market earlier in the day, but your eyes are stuck on his features, pouted lips glistening after each sip of his drink, his fingers fiddling with one another against the bottle and then tapping at his knee. 

The sounds around you muffle as you focus on the contrasts of the dark summer night and the orange-yellow flame of the fire against the boy. You feel your stomach fluttering as you come to realise that the nervous feeling you harbour around him is a result of your blooming affection for him. 

Suddenly, you feel a warm gaze on you, and you turn to see Haechan's eyes fixed on you, with a gentle, understanding gaze. Your pulse quickens each moment you lock eyes, and it’s hard to bring yourself out of this reverie.

In the middle of enjoying this blissful moment with him, your heart fluttering and your eyes locked onto his, you startle as you feel someone tap on your shoulder.

You turn around to see Naeun looking at you, a slight frown on her face.

"What's wrong?" You ask her. Naeun shakes her head slightly and looks back in Haechan's direction.

"Have you been noticing Haechan's strange behaviour recently?" She whispers to you. Your brows furrow, but you can’t bring yourself to look at the boy anymore. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know, it kinda feels like he’s silently brewing something.” She taps her fingers against her chin as she thinks. “Or maybe I’m just making things up, I need a drink” She shrugs and quickly goes to stand up, heading towards Jihoon’s direction, who beams when your friend asks for a stronger drink.

The night continues with the food getting annihilated less than five minutes of it being cooked, and everyone mixing their spirits just to experience drunken fun quickly. A few impromptu singing sessions occur, and a very terrible round of truth or dare as Minseok decides to make everything hard by saying such as “I dare you to down two shots or give me fifty-thousand won”. No one was pleased with his low blow.

You know it’s time for you to head off to bed when your eyelids start drooping even when everyone is singing at the top of their lungs. You pat Naeun’s knee as you stand up, with her barely noticing as she tries to match her adlibs to the song. 

“I’m gonna head off to bed now,” As she nods back at you, you tuck the blanket back on her knees before shuffling away and towards your tent. Retrieving some things from your bag inside your tent, you hear some shuffling to your left as you head back out. Haechan stands at his tent situated next to yours seemingly calling it a night too as his hands carry his toothbrush and toothpaste.

You’re not sure where you got the confidence to speak first, but Haechan’s soft gaze illuminated by the moonlight eases you. “You’re heading to bed too?”

“Yeah,” He exhales. “I don’t think I can handle two more hours of a Bruno Mars medley. Even I have my limits.” The smile on his face grows as he looks at you, cheeks full of adoration.

As you stand there, a thought tugs at the back of your mind, a memory that you almost missed amidst the camaraderie and laughter earlier. With a sudden realisation, you remember that you still have Haechan's jacket that he lent you earlier. Feeling a little guilty and nervous, you quickly retrieve it from your bag, tugging at the sleeves of the jacket and straightening any creases.

"Actually, speaking of limits," you start, your voice a touch sheepish, "I kind of borrowed your jacket when it got cold. Sorry, I didn't know exactly when I should give it back."

His eyes widen in mock surprise, a playful grin curving on his lips. "You mean you stole my jacket?" he teases, an eyebrow raised.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Borrowed, Haechan. Borrowed."

He chuckles, his gaze dropping to the jacket you're holding out. "Well, I guess I can let you off the hook this time."

You let out a relieved laugh, a weight lifting off your shoulders. Haechan's fingers brush against yours as he takes the jacket from you, his touch lingering and warm against you. His eyes, usually full of mischief, now seem to hold a depth of emotion that you can't quite decipher. The playful smile he wore has softened into something more sincere.

"Thank you," he says, his voice gentle as he folds the jacket over his arm. "But you know, you could have kept it if you wanted to."

Your stomach dips at the implication as you let out a nervous chuckle, fingers fidgeting slightly as you meet his gaze. "I know, but you have to give back what you’ve borrowed,"

He tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. "Well, I'm glad you're honest, even if it's about jacket theft," he says, a hint of a teasing smile returning to his lips.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the tension from before now replaced by a sense of connection that feels even stronger. The distant sounds of the campfire and the rustling of leaves create a soothing backdrop, and when you look at the boy in front of you once more, you’re suddenly brought back to the moment you shared at the festival. 

“I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.” Was he joking again when he said this? Making some elaborate sick and twisted prank to make you feel better about the bucket of water that wasn’t even his own doing? 

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and when you go to clear your throat and voice your thoughts, Haechan's lips curve into a warm smile. "Well, it's getting late," he says softly, glancing toward his tent. 

You’re momentarily taken aback, now feeling lost on what to say. He takes your silence as a bid, zipping open his tent flaps and toes off his shoes. 

“Wait, Haechan,” Your voice surprises the two of you still, as Haechan looks over his shoulder and back at you with a hum, his eyes scanning your features. 

You shuffle in place, before bringing your hand up and waving at him timidly. “Sleep well,” 

This time, his reaction is different. He purses his lips, as if restraining a more exuberant smile, his eyes glinting with something unspoken. His nod is gentle, and he avoids meeting your gaze directly. "Goodnight, Y/n,"

The following day, after you’ve all washed up and had something to eat, you gather around the cleared dock in a circle once more. 

“Okay, so it seems like we have six willing participants. We’ve decided to split the teams as such,” With the crew only having access to three cameras, and today being the last day you all can visit the village, there will be three pairs conducting video-form interviews on three of the participants, while the rest do a one-on-one interview without any form of digital recording.

“These are the three pairs: Soyeon and Juyeon, you two will interview Mr Choi. Jihoon and Naeun, you’re on the Sim couple, and Haechan and Y/n can go to Mrs Kim,” You try your best to not seem as surprised as you really feel when you look at your partner, who beams back at you playfully.

Naeun raises her hand. “If my partner can’t shut his mouth and let the interviewees speak, do I have permission to smack across his head with the clipboard?”

“By all means,” Sohee replies without hesitation, while Jihoon raises his hand to his head protectively, looking warily at the clipboard that is being passed around to the groups.

X

You all depart at ten in the morning, hopping into the van and leaving your camping sanctuary. Yubin was kind enough to drive each of you to the houses of the interviewees, reminding all of you to meet at the village centre at three p.m. latest for dinner and then a drive back to the camp. 

Looking at the scribble of the address that the lady gave you yesterday (you’re still shocked that she entrusted you with such information) you look at the gate in front of you which sports the same exact numbers. With one simple scan around, you find that there’s only a handle attached to the door to indicate your arrival.

Haechan steps forward and knocks twice, before you hear a slide of a door and a few grunts. “Give me a few seconds, I’m not as agile as I was a few years ago,” Opening the gate, you feel like you’ve been washed anew, as Mrs Kim smiles widely at you two. “Come on it, I prepared some fruits for you two to eat,”

“Oh, Mrs Kim you didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense,” She tchs. “It’s important for you young people to stay healthy.” As you enter, you see the beautiful exterior of her house and a mini deck that adorns the fruits she had mentioned. 

Haechan adjusts the shoulder of the bag filled with equipment, his arm grazing yours briefly. “You have a very lovely estate, Mrs Kim,” He compliments, and his eyes squeeze shut when the woman reaches forward and pinches at his cheek. You can’t help yourself from laughing, as he contains his grunts.

“You flatter me too much young man,” She pats at his cheek once more, and you have to stop yourself from cooing when you see the red tone of his skin before he covers his cheek with his hand, rubbing it as a form of soothing remedy. “I have a few more things to bring. Did you guys have breakfast? Actually, doesn’t matter, even if you did you should eat more. It’s important to stock up on energy early in the morning.”

“Mrs Kim you don’t have t—”

“You guys can set up,” She shuffles back to her house, sliding the door open and shut behind her, gone before you could utter another word. Both of you look at the deck, which has a big bowl of fruits and three cushions for you to sit on.

Haechan is still rubbing at his cheek when he speaks, “I guess we can set up now, you wanna sit at the deck and I’ll adjust the camera?” The two of you work in harmony, with you adjusting the seats in order to achieve the best angle for the camera, while Haehcan looks at the viewfinder and asks you to shift when needed.

When you’re setting up the microphone and your clipboard with the provided questions, Mrs Kim comes back with two lines of kimbap lined on a plate and three sets of cutlery. Haechan lets out a sharp gasp in gratitude while your jaw slackens.

“Thank you, Mrs Kim,” You hum as you look at her, adoration no doubt filled in your irises. She waves shyly at you, before settling down at the cushion you had positioned for her. “Okay, there are a few questions that I have for you here, and it shouldn’t take more than fourty minutes if I don’t have any follow-ups.” You start explaining to her, and you look over at Haechan to check and see if your volume for the microphone is good or not. He gives you a thumbs up and a nod, which prompts you to continue with your debrief. 

“We can take breaks as much as you like, and if there isn’t anything you’re comfortable with answering please tell us. We’re not trying to make you feel bad with this interview, we just want more people to know about this because there isn’t much recorded at the moment,” You list off, not wanting to miss a detail. Situated behind the camera, you miss the way Haechan smiles fondly at your focused expression, but Mrs Kim doesn’t as she lets her gaze flit between the two of you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” You smile at her, and she smiles back before giving you a confirmation.

“Please introduce yourself!” As you ask her question after question, you munch on a few fruits to stave off the heat in the outdoor summer weather. You fill up your cups using the water jug Mrs Kim had brought and subtly shove it to the corner of the deck where it is closest to Haechan, who would try his best to retrieve it with as little disturbance as possible, After thirty minutes, you had only gone through three questions, stuck with asking her follow up questions about her farming and harvesting upbringing with how invested you were. You pause the interview recording as Haechan mutters something about needing the bathroom, and you finally get to dig into the food that Mrs. Kim has prepared for you.

You’re munching on the food when Mrs. Kim asks you a question. “Did you two decide to come here together?”

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Oh, we’re part of a group at university and our project was to research this topic,” You pour another cup of water for her when you see her reach for the jug. “Which thank you for accepting our offer, it was hard getting someone …” 

She laughs as she waves her hand at you. “The old people in this village are all grumpy because of the heat, don’t take it to heart sweetie,” Haechan struts back outside once more, and tampers with the camera to check the records. He brings it to you and asks about the angle which makes you two fall into a convo about the angles. You pick up a piece of kimbap and offer it to the boy, noticing he hasn’t had anything to eat as of yet.

You miss the fond look Mrs Kim holds, as Haechan shakes his head slightly with his mouth open, before engulfing the food and chewing, mumbling more about the camera settings.

“Mrs Kim, are you alright with changing the angle of the camera so it can focus on you?”

“You two are such a cute couple,” You almost get whiplash from how fast you turn your head to look at her, your utensils almost dropping the piece of strawberry you had picked up.

“Oh,” Haechan starts, and you’re not sure if the rouge colour of his cheeks is due to the sun or something else. “We’re—”

“And you’re such a gentleman too,” She gestures at Haechan before picking up an uncut fruit and peeling it. “I have five children, and a dozen of grandchildren. One of the younger ones is around the same age as you, so you remind me a lot of him.” She reminisces, and you can’t bring yourself to correct her statement when she gives you another piece of anecdote. “Although it’s been some time since I’ve seen them, I hope the next time I do they’ve grown as handsome and as kind as you are,” 

Haechan grows flustered as he occupies himself with a bite of a fruit, before developing a sudden tenderness. He saunters up to his side and holds his arms wide for a hug, which the woman grows mockingly agitated with, before accepting it. He whines cutely, “Mrs Kim, you can’t go all soft on me with no warning,” He rubs at her shoulder gently. “If you’d like, I’m more than happy to come back again to visit you, in exchange for your world-class food,” He receives a soft smack on the shoulder before bursting into laughter, and you can’t help but feel a sense of adoration at his words.

“You’re only gonna be a nuisance at my side,” She grunts when Haechan goes back next to you, plopping himself down to indulge more in the food. “I’ll let you visit me only if you bring your lovely girlfriend too,”

You start coughing on the grape you were munching on, as Haechan tuts at you and gives you a glass of water. Gulping it down, you stop yourself from having another fit when Haechan says, “I’ll bring my lovely, precious girlfriend with me too. Promise,”

Your interview with Mrs Kim was done three hours after your arrival, as you left with a full stomach and a massive hug from the sweet woman.

“Have a safe trip back,” She waves, and you and Haechan navigate your way through the neighbourhood and towards the village centre.

Haechan gives a wistful sigh. “What a sweet lady, I thought every person over the age of sixty wanted to run us over in this town,” 

“I think they just wanted to run you over.” You comment and are met with a light shove to your shoulder with his, a playful grin dancing on his lips. "Me? Come on, I'm nothing but a bundle of charm and charisma," he retorts while he stretches his arms out.

"Sure, if you say so," you reply with a smile, feeling the warm sensation before settling low in your stomach again.

As you both navigate through the village centre, the quaint streets bathed in the warm hues of the sun, Haechan's tone becomes a touch more serious. "You know, spending time with Mrs Kim was really nice," he admits, his expression softening.

You nod in agreement. "Absolutely. She's such a sweetheart. The way she talks about the village and its history, you can tell how much she loves it."

"True," Haechan agrees, his gaze distant for a moment before focusing back on you. "It's heartwarming to see how deeply connected she is to this place."

As you stroll along the cobbled path, a comfortable silence settles between you. The serene atmosphere of the village combined with Haechan's presence makes it feel like you're in a different world altogether, a world where worries and uncertainties can be set aside, even if only temporarily.

Eventually, the village begins to fade into the background as you approach your destination. With the fading light, the sounds of the evening grow softer, and you find yourselves in a quiet corner by the riverbank.

Haechan glances at you, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "You know," he begins, his tone softer now, "I’m glad you were my partner for today."

You meet his gaze, a warm smile forming on your lips as you feel heat gather at your cheeks. "Yeah, it was fun." You cut yourself off short, scared that if you keep talking you’ll say more than you’d want to.

He grins, a hint of his mischievousness returning. "And who knows, maybe next time Mrs Kim will have some more matchmaking plans for us," he says, his eyebrows wiggling playfully. You laugh, shaking your head at his antics, but feel a nervous flip in your stomach. 

Before you can overthink and pick his words apart, you hear a honk from behind as a car drives up to the both of you. Yubin rolls down the window, gleaming at you from behind the wheel. “Great! You guys are done too, we were about to come pick you up. You guys had something to eat already?” You both nod your heads, now uncertain of Yubin’s enthusiasm.

“Perfect, because we aren’t heading to the centre for lunch anymore.” She tilts her head back to the van, urging you to get in. “We’re heading to the waterfall!”

It turns out that the man Yubin had been interviewing alone had mentioned a picturesque waterfall just a short drive from the town. The location came complete with a restaurant situated slightly downstream, but what had truly captured his nostalgic sentiment was his recollection of summers spent there during his youth. While she tells you all this, you don’t notice the passage of time. It's only when the car slows to a stop and Jihoon emerges from the trunk, his inflatable flamingo in tow and already sporting swim trunks, that you realize how far you've journeyed.

"Wait, are we actually going swimming?" Juyeon asks, his voice laced with surprise as Jihoon confidently strides towards the water, each step creating playful splashes. Sohee looks ahead at the water and Jihoon, expression blank once more. “We brought a few towels, some of them finished early so we drove back to the site and grabbed some things.” She shrugs her cardigan off, revealing her swimsuit from underneath. “You don’t have to swim if you don’t want to,” And she steps into the water, trailing behind Jihoon.

Naeun, who was one of the lucky ones to have finished early, is also wearing her swimsuit and is now trying to persuade you to join. “Just dip your feet in, you’re already wearing shorts! I brought some slippers for you too,” When she sees that you’re not budging, she huffs at your stubbornness before heading in. Even Miseok, who was fully clothed, went ahead and emerged himself into the water, squealing about the cold of the water.

You sigh in thought, looking down at your cladded feet, contemplating whether you should go in or not. You do feel the sweat built up from the whole day's work disappearing in the presence of the cold waterfall, but the body of water looks more and more tempting as droplets land at your feet, courtesy of Naeun and Soyeon declaring war against Minseok and drowning the guy with splashes of water, their laughter ringing through the air. Yubin clings to Sohee’s waist as she twirls her around in the water, and Haechan tries to coax Juyeong into making Jihoon sink by toppling him over the flamingo.

You sit by the edge of the water, your feet dangling in the cool stream, watching your friends enjoy themselves. Haechan, ever the observer, notices your conflicted expression. His eyes meet yours, and he saunters over with that signature mischievous grin that never fails to stir something in your chest.

“You coming in?” voice tinged with playful curiosity, he gets out to stand next to you, tousled hair dripping and his sun-kissed skin glistening. His shirt clings to his form, and it takes all of your willpower to look away from the dip in his waist. 

“I don’t know, I’m still thinking…” The cold water looks exceptionally inviting, but you wouldn’t have a change of clothes, and you’re not sure if the white t-shirt you adorn would help in not exposing you. 

“Hmm, I mean, you had a bucket of water dunked on you once, right?” He circles behind you as he says this. “So this time it shouldn’t be too bad,” Before you can turn to look at him and decipher what he means, you feel strong arms circle around your waist before you’re being trudged forward, a startled laugh escapes your lips as he carries you toward the water.

"H-Haechan, wait!" you protest, a mix of laughter and uncertainty in your tone.

He pays no heed to your objections, stepping in more and more into the cold and refreshing water. As the water reaches his waist, he takes another step forward, your laughter mingling with the splashes around you. The initial shock of the cold water is soon replaced by a rush of exhilaration as he swings you left and right quickly.

"See?" he grins at you when you turn to look at him, the playful spark in his eyes impossible to ignore. He takes another step forward, wanting to get the both of you close to the rest, but his foot gets caught momentarily as he leans forward more, making you squeal as you’re faced with your death for a few seconds.

Fortunately, you don’t fall in face first, as Haechan gathers himself just in time. His arms are gripped tighter around your waist, as he tries to fully regain his balance by grounding himself into you. You feel his chest against your back, and if it weren’t for the cool stream of water whizzing past your body, you would’ve been burning up.

“You almost killed us both,” Haechan loosens his hold around you as you say this, gently turning you around to face him instead, your grip going back to his forearm. Nothing could have prepared you for the view you’re met with, a smile gleaming across Haechan’s face, carefree and unfiltered as he revels in the summer sun and the cool water from the waterfall and riverbank. He looks like the embodiment of summer, and you’re slowly finding yourself wanting to bask in his light.

His smile slowly fades as his eyes start looking across your face, taking in your features one by one, from the corners of your eyes to the shine of the sun against your cheeks, and lastly your lips. You feel your breath hitch, the only thing grounding you being the grip you hold on the Haechan’s forearms, while his hands hover over your waits, before gently getting a hold on them, his fingers squeezing deftly. You’re not quite sure if you’re intently focusing in on his face, or if he’s slowly leaning in, but before you can figure out the air that hangs between the two of you, a deafening screech sounds in front of you, and in that suspended moment, your instincts kick in. Your arms reflexively rise to cushion the impact, and Haechan's body collides with yours. 

For the second time this afternoon, you close your eyes as you brace yourself for impact, the world briefly becomes a blur of sensations. The water is just deep enough to soften your fall, but you know the skidding of the pebbles under your feet would inflict some sort of pain. Neither of you gets to find your footing this time round, as you fall into the water, refreshing coolness sliding down on you before engulfing the two of you.

As the world comes back into focus, you find yourself near Haechan once again, his laughter bubbling through the water. His mischievous grin is evident even underwater, and it's easy to imagine the triumphant sparkle in his eyes.

"You really can't catch a break today, huh?" he teases, his words echoing through the water.

You can't help but let out a laugh. "You could say that." Haechan surfaces beside you, water cascading from his hair, his wet shirt clinging to his form once more. As you two recover, you look up and towards the direction of the commotion that happened to send Haechan and you toppling over. There you see Minseok, a look of uncertainty cast on his face before it falls to a cheeky grin, his face stretching almost uncomfortably.

"Guess I misjudged the distance," Minseok calls out, his tone light as he shrugs his shoulders. Your brows furrow, but you don’t say anything when Haechan playfully splashes water in Minseok's direction. "Nice aim! You almost gave us a heart attack and had us follow the stream,” He points towards the flow of the water starting from your feet, and looking down at your soaked-through shirt you realise that you’re more exposed than what you had planned.

Haechan’s gaze catches on you crossing your arms over your shoulders, a weak attempt of you trying to cover yourself. Quickly scanning the bags and mats huddled together just on the floor next to the waterfall, he gently offers his hand for you to take, swishing through the currents and stepping out, helping you do the same before he grabs the only available towel he could find, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“There,” He pats your sides, helping you to dry. Your heart warms at his gesture, smitten eyes looking at his while he looks anywhere but directly at you.

People start getting out slowly too, some grumbling about being hungry from not having a chance to eat before coming to swim. When everyone grabs a towel, you realise that Haechan is the only one left without one. Everyone’s too busy tending to themselves to notice, and you see a faint shiver coarse through his body, the cold of the water relentless even in the heat of the summer.

You shoulder off your towel, handing it to him without saying much. He looks at your extended hand and you know he’s about to refuse when he sports a sheepish and teasing smile, ready to refute your attempts by making some sort of joke out of it, or claiming you need it more.

Somehow, you know that he won’t give in until you also have a towel or something similar to help you, so you decide to do something else. You place one end of the towel around his right shoulder, and you see him open his mouth to voice his protest, but his voice dies in his throat when you stick yourself by his left shoulder, wrapping the other end of the towel around yourself too. He looks at you incredulously, and you’re sure now that teh heat on your cheeks can’t be blamed on the heat of the weather anymore.

You try to will away your flustered expression, now refusing to meet his eye. “You wouldn’t take the towel, so I had to make do,” You mutter, now feeling somewhat ridiculous for your attempt at wanting him to use the towel. Haechan, having never met with this side of yours, gets a bit giddy as he grins widely at you, reaching out from under the jacket to pinch at you. You smack away his hand, before muttering something about wanting to find Naeun, separating yourself from the towel and quickly stepping away.

Back at the campsite, everyone takes turns rinsing off and helping to prepare for tonight's round of food. Although most of the drinks that Jihoon had brought were dwindling to a finish, he pulls out an extra bottle of emergency vodka, preparing shots for everyone to have. 

As Jihoon’s tactics of making everyone drink to get drunk don’t go through, he tries something that never fails. “Okay, we’re playing never have I ever, and for every one finger you put down you have to take a shot,” Yubin immediately bites, saying “Never have I ever been named ‘Sohee’,”

Sohee's reaction is swift and accompanied by an indignant glare. Without missing a beat, she reaches for a shot glass and downs the vodka, setting it down with a determined clink. Jihoon grins, clearly delighted by the engagement he's sparked. "Only Yubin can pull something like that and not get torn in half,"

But Sohee doesn’t back down easily. “Never have I ever cut my own bangs,” Yubin purses her lips from laughing, lowering one finger as she looks at her shot glass in shame before downing it. A few other people drink too, with Haechan laughing at Jihoon who takes a hard-hitting shot.

“Why would you cut your bangs?” Naeun questions Jihoon as he recovers from the taste of vodka. “Sometimes times are tough,” 

Haechan scoffs. “He saw a video of a guy thirst trapping and the girl he liked at the time had liked it. So he thought a haircut would be a quick fix,” Jihoon scowls at being called out so easily. Before he could strike back with a question, Minseok suddenly speaks up.

"Never have I ever accidentally spilled a secret that wasn't mine to spill," Minseok announces, his eyes locking onto Haechan's with a knowing glint. The question lands like a playful challenge, drawing amused glances and ripples of laughter from the group. Haechan's expression shifts from surprise to a grin, lifting a shot glass and downing it seamlessly. Your eyes catch on the side of his face as he tilts his head back, throat bobbing lightly as he downs the drink, and amid all the ruckus and noise of the group, you can’t help but find his expression hot.

Not right now, you can’t start salivating in the middle of a friendly gathering and so you turn to look away. Your gaze instead catches on Minseok, and his once playful expression has suddenly faded into a displeased one, as he pushes his glasses back up his nose bridge. You grow confused at his sudden shift of mood, but before you can further contemplate anything, Naeun shrieks at a question that Soyeon had asked bringing you back to the group.

The game shifts into story time, as people talk about how they’ve broken bones to the times they were caught masturbating. You can’t help but grimace at Juyeon’s story of how the person he was with had kicked out his pet cat from the room only for her other cat to pop out of the closet, as she cooed at her pet not even a full minute after they finished. 

Someone reaches for a bottle of water and finds that the ones on the deck are all empty. “I’ll get some more from the van,” You volunteer, standing up and dusting yourself off. Yubin’s temple is resting against Sohee’s shoulder as she slurs, “Take s’meone witchu... Bottles heavy..” You glance around only to be met with Naeun excitedly asking Juyeon to tell her more about his embarrassing moments so she can exchange with him, while the rest egg him on. Your attention shifts to Haechan, his eyes already fixed on yours. With a subtle tilt of your head away from the campfire, a surge of confidence courses through you as you invite him to join you. 

The walk to the van is quiet, save for the crunch of your shoes and sandals against the floor, as you look at the sky and the trees, anywhere but at him now that he’s actually by your side. 

Haechan's voice breaks the silence, soft. "Was it fun for you so far?"

You turn your gaze to him, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I’m glad to have gotten away like this before the exams start up again." Subconsciously, you start treading closer to him, your shoulder now brushing against his every other step you take. “But I don’t think I can go to another social gathering until next year,”

He chuckles, a sound that seems to meld seamlessly with the night's tranquillity. "Tell me about it. Minseok’s been on a mission this whole trip, hasn't he?"

You nod, the playful note in his voice helping to ease the tension that had briefly gripped the atmosphere. “Your title is gonna be revoked soon if you don’t watch out,” 

You arrive at the van, and you feel the weight of the key in your pocket, but you can’t bring yourself to fish it out, as you now stand face-to-face with Haechan. Even with the sun’s shine bringing out the warmth and glow in him, you’re just as mesmerised during the night, the moonlight turning him blurry at the edges, and you can feel yourself softening even more. 

You’re brought back to the festival when Haechan had pulled you away and continued to laugh at you for being mad at him for pulling a prank on you. You’re still not entirely sure if he isn’t to blame, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you recall his words. “I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

He’s right in front of you again, looking at you patiently, gaze slowly flitting over your features, from your eyes to your cheeks, at your hair and fleetingly at your lips when you go to speak.

"Hey, about what you said earlier…” you begin, your voice steady but tinged with a hint of uncertainty as your hands fidget with one another. “Back at the festival, about asking me out,"

His eyes meet yours, searching for something in your expression. He seems to hold his breath, waiting for your words to unfold.

"Was that just... you know, another one of your jokes?" you ask, your tone light yet inquisitive. 

Haechan's eyebrows knit together for a moment, a hint of surprise in his eyes as if he didn't expect you to bring up the topic, not like this. He then lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "No, I wasn't joking," he says, his voice gentle but earnest.

His second confession hangs in the air between you, a mixture of emotions swirling beneath the surface. You feel your heart racing, your mind racing even faster. Your next words are caught in your throat, wondering if now is the time.

“I…” But Haechan’s anything if patient and kind, as he steps closer and gently clasps your hand in his, both of your gazes falling on your now linked hands before travelling up to your faces. “I really like you,” You breathe, and your gaze zeroes in on his plush lips. “And I really want to kiss you now,”

Your cheeks heat up at your sudden bluntness, but a tender smile graces Haechan’s features and he takes a step closer. Your hands remain linked, his touch warm and reassuring against your palm. His head tilts a bit, breath mingling with yours as his eyes fall to look at your lips, gaze growing hooded in the dark of the night.

His lips meet yours gently, the plush skin enveloping you, and all you can feel and hear is him. The summer breeze and the crickets chirping now fades away, as you feel his fingers clasped through yours and the brush of his nose against you. He separates slightly, pulling back as he slowly opens his eyes, but you’re barely done.

Panic overtakes his features when you let go of his hand, but then it's replaced with a look of surprise when you quickly but gently clasp his face in your hands, leaning in and kissing him once more. He can’t help the slight smile that urges to overtake his features, but he grounds himself by clasping your waist, pulling your body closer to his. He pecks your lips, again and again, his palms squeezing your waist deftly, as if he can’t get enough. Your arms link around his shoulders when he pushes himself closer to you, shifting from caring pecks to heated kisses, pushing you two closer together. 

Finally, when the soft breeze doesn’t help fight the heat, you separate from each other, but your bodies are still intertwined. You rest your forehead against his collarbone and he smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist now.

“Fuck,” You mutter, “Why was that so good?” He chuckles at your words, kissing the side of your head that’s still buried in his chest.

“Yeah?” He mumbles into your hair, and it takes all of your willpower to not collapse right then and there at his hot tone. “Can’t wait to show you more then,” He pecks at your cheek lightly before stepping back and towards the van, and you can’t help but silently mourn the loss of his touch.

When you get back to the campfire and sit next to Nauen, she comments on how warm your body is.

“Of course my body is warm, it’s summer. Did you forget?” Naeun looks at you with one of her eyes squinted shut, the other barely open as she tries analysing you through her drunken state.

“You’re right, I did forget. I just thought Haechan kissing you would’ve made yo—“ You smack your hand on her mouth as your wide eyes scan across the deck, scared that other people have caught on to her words. Naeun and her damn mouth, and really accurate drunk guesses.

After looking around, you’re relieved to find that everyone’s too busy with their own activities. Your eyes fall on Haechan, who must’ve felt your gaze as he quickly glances towards you, sending a wink and an air kiss. You roll your eyes, looking away quickly so he misses the fondness that overtakes your features.

Naeun leans on your shoulder as you two look at the blank space that once had your shared tent. 

“I’ll miss this place,” She sniffles, and you can’t help but scoff. 

“You were complaining just twenty minutes ago about how gross this trip made you feel.”

“Maybe the cleanliness of camping is the friends we made along the way,” She loses her footing when you move away from her, making her lose her position from being perched on you. Going to the van where everyone’s huddled at, you help give some of the items to be fitted into the truck.

Rubin tucks a strand of hair that’s sticking out from Sohee’s hair as the latter reads off of the clipboard in her hand. “Okay, everyone has their bearings?” Jihoon shuffles in with his flamingo plushie. “Wait, let me deflate this quickly and shove it at the back,”

“No!” You exclaim, and everyone looks at you with your sudden outburst. Without the flamingo, you wouldn’t have an excuse for wanting to squeeze closer to Haechan as you sit next to each other. You quickly gather yourself, clearing your throat and trying to seem nonchalant. “Uh, I mean like, don’t deflate it now. It’ll be hard to inflate it again.” You look away as you gesture your hand around. “There’s space at the back of the van anyway.”

You catch Haechan’s gaze, who is now covering his mouth with his hand to not burst out with laughter. Jihoon looks at Yubin with confusion, before the team leader shrugs, gesturing for the flamingo to fit into the van. When everyone shuffles into the van, Jihoon hands you the flamingo, which you happily grasp and tug at your left side, as you sit in the middle. Haechan fits himself at your right side, and you try your best to avoid Naeun’s suspicious yet knowing glare.

When the van roars to life, so does conversation between everyone, as Jihoon plays music through the aux cord, providing some background music. Now that you’ve achieved your goal of having Haechan sit next to you, you don’t know what to do, settling into your seat with the inflatable flamingo cradled in your arms. His thigh pressed against yours as the two of you relaxed back into your seats, and you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything but the warmth seeping through the fabric of your clothes, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

As you steal a glance at Haechan, you find him already looking at you, a playful glint in his eyes and a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. You can never win.

He seems to find amusement in your flustered state, a knowing look passing between you as if sharing a secret language. And just when you expect him to tease you, he instead offers you an airpod of his (which you’re thankful for, you don’t know what suffices as an excuse for oggling him the way you did).

"Here," he says, his voice a soft undertone amidst the conversations. You're momentarily taken aback by his gesture, your fingers brushing against his as you accept the earbud. 

It’s when you’re in the middle of choosing which decade of music to listen to when Minseok turns around and is met with your bickering. Naeun joins in, a smile on her lips as she enjoys the banter between you and Haechan.

Then, Minseok's voice cuts through the chatter, posing a question that catches you off guard. “Did you forgive him after his prank?” It takes a moment for you to realize that it’s directed at you. You glance between Naeun and Haechan, uncertain of how to respond to his unexpected query.

Quick to step in, Naeun's voice rises above the background noise as she takes charge of the situation. “The water bucket? Haechan wasn't behind that one,” Minseok now looks at Naeun with a confused tilt. 

"But he was, right? I remember he was on his way to class and turned back at the last minute." 

It’s now your turn to be confused. “How did you know he was heading to class then?” You see a bit of colour drain from his face as you ask him, and before he can say anything, Juyeon and Soyeon call for his attention, giving him an escape from the conversation.

A glance is exchanged between you, Haechan, and Naeun, a silent agreement passing between you all. Naeun waves off the topic, assuring you with a casual gesture. "Don't worry about it for now. Let's get back to what we were doing." With that, she turns her attention back to the ongoing activities, allowing you to enjoy your privacy once more.

As you listen to the calming music he plays, you lay your head on his shoulder, finding solace in the rhythmic hum of the van's journey. His voice drifts into a lively monologue about his evolving music preferences over the years—tales of the artists he favoured in his younger days and those who currently capture his admiration. You can’t help but feel warm as he tells you personal anecdotes of listening to his parents’ karaoke sessions, and how his mum especially used to love singing.

Watching him speak animatedly,  a wave of endearment washes over you. Pouting as he sometimes speaks and moving his hands when he wants to emphasise a point, The surge of fondness overwhelms you and you let your urges take over, nipping lightly at his shoulder, not knowing how else to assert the cute aggression you feel so suddenly.

“What—” Haechan claps his hand over the spot you playfully bit, his mock protest making you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “That hurt!”

“It wasn’t even that hard! My teeth barely caught on.” You cross your arms. He suddenly wraps one arm around your shoulder, hand bumping against the barely alive flamingo as he pushes you closer to him. “Don’t go soft now. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. But just be careful now,” He leans into your ear, lips grazing your skin as he whispers. “I like biting too. Sometimes hard enough to leave a mark,” 

You glare when he parts from you. “Is that a threat?” 

He tilts his head in thought. “A threat for a good time? Maybe,”

You would be lying if you said the trip didn’t change anything. Naeun has been relentless, asking you every time she sees you smiling if it’s because of Haechan.

“You never smile for any other reason,” She barely misses the pillow that’s flung in her direction.

But as you return back, you’re suddenly met with your responsibilities you had momentarily forgotten about, as deadlines creep up. You’re only either at your classes, the library, at work or at home. So you don’t get to see Haechan, but you do text, which gives Naeun reasons to tease you. It hurts you to say that she’s right about you smiling because of him, so instead you deflect and threaten to spill the beans on her crush on Jeno. That stopped her for two weeks, and that’s all the time you needed to focus on your studies.

As everyone’s assignments and exams come to an end, a flurry of parties and gatherings are held, and people are ready to let loose before dispersing once the holidays start. 

And so here you are, at the first party of the week, taking shots with Naeun as if they’re water. Usually, one of you would opt to be just a bit more coherent and sober than the other, just to make sure no one makes any mistakes they’ll regret later; but the exams were hard-hitting this semester, and what else do you talk about the day after these parties if not your fuck-ups?

It’s Sunwoo’s house that you’re raiding, and Naeun has somehow convinced the host to give them unlimited shots as compensation for when he made her talk about Haehcan’s prank.

“You really hold grudges don’t you?” He says as she pours you two another round, almost missing your cups with how much he’s also had himself. She giggles as he says this before her expression falls as he looks at him with a scowl. “Say that again and I’ll show you what a real grudge looks like,” 

The night continues to be rowdy, as go around dancing to the music that’s being blasted and you stumbling yourselves into a game of truth or drink, where you would drink even with questions you were okay with answering. You’re now plastered to a couch, unable to move as your body feels unnaturally heavy.

“You know,” Naeun hiccups. “I love you, like, so much. You fucking bitch.” She slurs, tapping her hand against the couch in an attempt to find your hand. She gives up after three taps, hiccuping once more. 

You nod against the back cushion of the couch. “I love you too, but,” You blink open your eyes, wanting to look at your best friend as you say this. “I just want you to know that you’re deserving of so much love.” You also try to move your hand to find hers, but you quickly realise that you can’t even find where your hand is.

So you keep going. “Soo much love. And the fact that you’re still single? Crime, jail immediately,” Naeun starts tearing up, because she gets emotional easily after three shots. “You’re so right, like, how long has it been since I’ve had my back blown?”

You shake your head, “Not even that, you deserve someone who’s into puppy play as much as you are. You know what?” Somehow finding some strength, you push yourself up and place your hands on her shoulders to steady yourself, wanting to gaze into her eyes as you say this. “You deserve Jeno and you should confess to him; he would be a psychotic maniac to not want to date someone as hot and as pretty as you are.” You miss catching the tears falling from her face, but you don’t need to do much, as her expression contorts from sadness to realisation.

“You’r—” She hiccups briefly. “So right. You’re so right. You know what? I’m gonna go and confess now,” Naeun’s willpower comes back in full force, as she suddenly stands up, posture straight like never before. You’re flung off of her as she does this, collapsing onto the couch, not yet having found the same energy she has mustered. 

You’re not sure if your cry of good luck reached your friend’s ears from where you’re squished against the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care as grogginess starts to take over, your eyes barely staying open even in the rowdiness of the party.

You feel yourself fall asleep just a bit, but are brought back to the lights and music of the party when you feel a gentle tap against your forearm. Opening your eyes, you’re met with Haechan’s crouched form as he smiles fondly at you, eyes scanning your face.

“You okay?” He asks, and you give him your best smile and a thumbs up. 

“Never... Never better.” You reach out your hand, wanting to have some sort of contact with the boy in front of you. “Actually, I’m way better now that Haechan is here,” 

Haechan’s smile widens into a grin, as he sees you flailing your hand around his general direction. “Haechan is happy that he’s here. Come one, let’s get you to sit up.” He clasps your hand in his, before gently lifting you from your horizontal position. You lean towards him, wanting to bask in his presence more, but he hums at you, urging you to sit back. Your face makes contact with the back cushion of the couch once more, and you can’t help the pout that sports your face. With your ears no longer buffered, the loud noise from the party rushes back to you at full force.

“It’s so loud here,” You murmur, squeezing Haechan's hand, to which he responds with a gentle squeeze of his own “So loud, ‘s annoying. Everyone’s annoying, but you, and Naeun is wetting her dick right now,” You don’t even care if your words are coherent or not, and judging by Haechan’s warm gaze, it doesn’t seem like he cares either.

He cups one side of your face, covering your ear from the ruckus of the party while having you look at him. “You wanna go home, baby?” 

You struggle just a bit to find his gaze, but smile at him anyway, pressing a gentle kiss against the palm of his hand that’s cupping your face. “Baby...yeah, wanna go home.” He pulls his hand back at your agreement, pecking his lips at the same spot you kissed him, before helping you to your feet. "Alright then, let's get you out of here."

[SATURDAY; 2:46 AM]

haechan <3: hope youre okay

haechan <3: drink lots of water when you wake up

[SATURDAY; 11:03 AM]

you: i wanna hibernate my life away

haechan <3: aw dont do that

haechan <3: maybe try a panadol first?

you: i will now

you: thank you for last night 🤍my prince charming

haechan <3: yours? 

you: ..

you: anyways.

you: how can i repay u :( 

haechan <3: dont gotta repay me for anything

you: let me have this one 

haechan <3: if you insisttttt

haechan <3: come over to mine tmr

you: how would i be repaying u that way??

haechan <3: i get to see your pretty face

you: 😐

haechan <3: ik you’re kicking ur feet rn

you: stop stalking me omg

You shuffle on your feet as you wait for Haechan to come to the door, feeling a bit stiff as you stand in the hallway of the apartment he lives in. When you had used the excuse of not wanting to annoy his roommates by coming over, he had attempted to reassure you that you won’t need to worry, because they won’t be here. 

The keyword is attempted. You feel far from reassured that it’ll just be the two of you for the rest of the day, afraid that the freedom of being home alone with him would lead to your mind jumping to places you’re not sure about. 

As you fidget in the hallway, your mind races with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You've spent time with Haechan in various places, but this is the first time you'll be alone together, let alone in his apartment. The possibilities and implications of this newfound privacy make your heart race.

Finally, the door swings open, and Haechan stands there with a welcoming smile. He's dressed casually, the hem of his white t-shirt hanging just at the waist of his grey sweatpants. "Hey, come in." he greets, strolling aside to let you in. Stepping in, you can’t help but let your eyes wander around, curious about the space he lives in. You’re surprised to find it in a messy-clean state— there are no stains or food scattered around, but there are many things clustered upon one another, as if either Haechan or his two roommates, Renjun and Jeno, were too lazy to put them away or thought they might need it in the near future.

He sees you scanning his living space and starts scratching at his neck in embarrassment. “Ah, I thought we could just hang out in my room, that’s why I didn’t make an effort to clean here..” He points back towards his room, and you feel shame bubble in you when your mind wanders. Maybe he just didn’t want to mess with his friends’ belongings scattered in the living room. Or maybe he wanted you in his room and on his bed.

Before you can dwell too much on those thoughts, you offer a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's totally fine," you say, doing your best to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Your room sounds great." 

He smiles at you warmly, before gently reaching forward and holding your hand in his, pulling you towards his kitchen. He pops open a cupboard, and in you see an abundance of snacks. “Wanted you to pick anything you like,” He chuckles when he sees your amazed appearance. “We spend, like, seventy percent of our monthly grocery funds on these things,” He grabs a few snacks to his liking, urging you to pick your faves too. Afterwards, you shuffle behind him towards his room, which you can’t help but study again. A single candle emits a soft, warm glow on his desk, and a few pillows, seemingly borrowed from the couch, are arranged neatly on his bed. You can’t help but feel warm at the prospect that he had gone out of his way to clean his room like this for you.

Heading towards his bed, you place the snacks down at the bedside table, curiously glancing around at Haechan as he roams around, switching on the TV that’s mounted opposite his bed, sitting at the edge of his bed where his laptop sits, trying to connect his streaming service. “Is there anything you want to watch?”

You hum in thought, “I’m fine with anything.” You settle at the edge of his bed, feeling a bit unsure of where to sit. Once Haechan puts a movie on, he smiles at your awkward demeanour, fiddling with your fingers as you look at his bedsheets. He goes up to the headboard of his bed and pats the space next to him, signalling for you to join him. Smiling at his initiative, you take a seat next to him, getting more comfortable against the pillows when he wraps his arm behind your back, sinking back into the pillows. 

You truly did try your best; you looked at the subtitles and read them along with the voices of the actors on the screen, and tried to encapture the scenes and backgrounds, but you couldn’t, for the life of you, fully focus on the movie. Not with the warm contact that is spread at your back, your shoulders pressed against Haechan. It also doesn’t help that your eyes travel to the ripple of the fabric of his sweatpants when he readjusts himself to a more comfortable position, or that you envision his soft grunts of moving around as something else whispered deeper into your ear.

It doesn’t seem like you’re good at keeping your feelings at bay, though. Haechan playfully squeezes your side after noticing you lost in thought, your gaze lingering on the tantalizing glimpse of skin between his shirt and waistband. “Is the movie too boring?” Your eyes snap up to his face, now feeling a mix of shame and guilt for letting your mind travel elsewhere.

“No! It’s just…” You trail off as you try racking your brain for an excuse. “Sorry, was jus’ thinking.” You feel another squeeze at your side, and if you were standing at this very moment your knees would’ve given out on you. You find it unfair that he’s able to do all this and drive you up the wall so easily.

He hums at your words before his gaze goes back to the movie playing. You almost scoff at his indifference, but also go back to looking at the TV. Two can play that game.

But you fall short once more when you feel him squeeze your waist once more, this time with his finger sleeping under your shirt, his pinky in contact with your skin. You can feel your heart racing and your palms getting sweaty. You try to tame yourself, to appear calm and composed, but deep down you know you can't help it.

You let your hand drop casually on his thigh, turning yourself to lean more into his body, trying to gauge his reaction. But he remains unfazed, expression unchanged as he merely adjusts himself slightly to accommodate for your new position. You decide to take it a step further, subtly squeezing your body against his, making sure to somehow slot your boobs against him, wanting him to feel more of you.

This guy's got a thick skin, you think, his demeanour as unyielding as ever. He doesn't show that your touch gets to him as he looks at you shifting closer to him. But if you look closely, there's a little twinkle in his eyes, a quick hint that suggests you're getting to him. 

"Can I hug you?" he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and anticipation. He chuckles, clearly amused by your eagerness as you nod your head, and wraps both of his arms around your waist. You take this opportunity to finally feel more of him, and give him something to be distracted with. You straddle his thigh, accepting his embrace as you slot your head at his collarbone.

His hands stiffen at your back, no doubt from feeling the heat of your body against his so suddenly, but he doesn’t let anything else on, as he starts to stroke your lower back, now cooing at you. “What’s got your pretty head all occupied, hmm?”

You hate how easily he’s able to pin this on you, his hands against you and his words whispered in your ear making you feel hot all over. Another soft squeeze of his fingers at your side reminds you of his question, and you feel shame climb up your spine before you’ve even uttered your answer.

“You,” pulling back from him, you look directly at him when you say this, voice almost breathless. You feel his thigh against your core covered by your shorts, and you hope the light press of your heat against him goes unnoticed. “My heads full of you, has been. Thought about you, about this,” The drive of your hips against his leg is now done with purpose, as you feel him stiffen at your boldness, almost making you whimper when you rut down. “Can’t stop thinking about you,”

He lets out a soft sigh when you ground your hips against him again, brows furrowed as he looks at your desperate state. You see a blush spread across his cheeks and creep up his neck, while he tilts his head back slightly, breathing in deeply as if to find composure within himself. He’s both flustered at your sudden ramblings about him, all while feeling a swell in his chest that he’s the cause of your current desperate state. His hands now find claim at your waist, neither pushing you down on him stronger nor pulling you away, simply gripping you as if in need of something to ground him. His eyes are wispy when they look up at you, mouth parted open as he takes a shuddering breath in. “What did you think about?”

What didn’t you think about? His touch on you drives you further, urging you to feel more. You shift your knees to meet at his hips, as you settle yourself down at his groin. “Thought about kissing you,” Your hands splay themselves at his chest, your pupils no doubt dilated the way your gaze settles on his plump lips. He bites on them, no doubt teasing you for something so close yet so far from where you want it; on your lips, both the top and bottom ones. 

When you lean in to embrace his lips with yours, his head swivels around as his lips land on your cheek, gaze casts down as his fingers hover over your stomach, before descending down to your clothed core, your loose shorts giving him easy access. His breath fans hot against your face when he swipes his fingers ever so lightly against you, nail catching on your clit through the fabric of your panties. A soft, pathetic sound leaves your lips, as you feel your hole clench on nothing with the brief contact that he’s had with you.

You go to grind yourself down against his fingers, wanting to feel more of him everywhere, but his hands travel to your hips, grip strong as he stops you from pressing against him. He tuts at you, hooded eyes travelling up your body, catching on your chest, where you pant lightly, breasts going up and down. When he finally lets his eyes go past your boobs, his grip turns harsh as he presses you back when you try to ground yourself against him once more.

“My pretty girl,” His tone is sweet, but you can’t help but feel like he’s mocking you. “I asked you a question,” When he sees your faraway gaze, he chuckles against you before leaning in, letting his lips graze against your collarbone now exposed by him pulling your collar aside for access, nipping at your skin before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. You scramble through your brain as you try to remember the question he asked, too occupied with his fingernails digging into you. 

As if he can sense what's running through your mind, he refreshes your memory.

“What,” another playful bite lands, harder this time at the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Did you think about, baby?” 

Gathering your thoughts, you now realise that he won’t be giving you what you need unless you tell him. You feel your stomach burn low as you recall the moments you’ve let your mind wander.

“Thought about your fingers,” You start, looking earnestly at him as if to convince him of your burning need. “Your fingers in me, fucking into me.” You pant when his hand drops the grip it had on your waist, his digits swiping at your core through your panties. When he presses the pads of his fingers against you, he curses lightly under his breath at how wet you already are. Using his other hand to tuck the seat of your underwear aside, his fingers meet your bare pussy, swiping up and down against your folds, spreading your slick around. 

“Fuck,” You sigh when he slowly presses his middle finger in, going till his knuckle meets your skin before pulling back out, his eyes seeking your face, wanting to see the pleasure in your expression. You squeak in surprise when he pushes another finger straight after, before building a slow rhythm against you. “Keep going pretty,” He sighs, his gaze captivated by your face. His hand that’s tucked against your underwear goes to your folds, thumb pushing against your clit in encouragement.

“Also,” You gulp down a breath of air. “Also thought of going down on my knees for you,”

“Fuck,” Haechan’s head falls back as you say this, his fingers quickening in speed. “Yeah? What else?” You whimper at his new pace and at his onslaught of touches against your sensitive clit, body clenching up when he taps at your bud quickly.

“Ab-about…about you fucking me,” You squeeze your body closer to him. “Fucking me until I can’t think,” You don’t realise that you’re moving now, grinding up and down against his fingers that are fucking into you.

Haechan groans at your words and actions, eyes squeezing shut as you start to chase your own pleasure. “That’s it baby, fuck. Wanted me to fuck my pretty girl dumb?” He hums against your cheek, placing a sweet peck against your skin, a stark contrast between his words and his grip on you.

You try to gather your wits, but Haechan lets his other hand wander up your body, shoving your shirt and bra away in favour of freeing your boobs. You moan when he pinches your nipple, your body shuddering at the different stimulations.

“Didn’t know my baby was so dirty,” He chuckles at your reaction, scratching his nail against your nipple before rolling it between his fingers. “When did you get like this?”

“In the car,” Your confession slows his movements, but you’re too busy chasing your high to realise. “On the drive when you were next to me. Your scent was jus’.. Everywhere.” Your hands clasp on his shoulder for support, thighs aching as you grind your core against his hand. “Wanted you to take me right there,” 

You just miss the sharp intake of breath he takes, eyes going unfocused at your desperate form trying to find some sort of release, getting off only with his two fingers in you.

“Fuck,” He moans breathily, eyebrows furrowing. “Shit— so fucking dirty, thinking of wanting to take me where anyone can hear, can look.” He keeps his fingers still for longer, wanting to see how far you’d go to chase your own high, slick sounds tightening the knot in his stomach.

His eyes look mesmerised as he watches your every move, even when you move yourself up and off of his fingers. You start shaking your head, clawing at his clothes. “Can’t,” You groan, “Can’t finish like this.. Need you, so bad.”

Haechan moans at your desperate hands before copying your movements, shoving your shorts and underwear away before letting you do the same. His cock bobs against his stomach once you pull it out of its confines, and you feel drool gather at your mouth at the sight, tip adorned in a pretty shade of red and glistening with precum, leaving a spot of wetness against his skin, exposed by you pushing his shirt up, wanting to see more of him.

Once all your clothes are off and discarded, you don’t hesitate to reach forward and kiss him, lips parting against each other as you press your bodies together. Your hand travels to his chest, nail catching on his nipple as you let your fingers descend down, the scratch on his sensitive skin making his body jolt, hips bucking forward as a whine falls from his lips.

Your hand clasps his dick in your hold, separating from the kiss to look down as you pump him a few times. He moans against your cheek as his eyes fall shut, not being able to look at you pumping him for long, scared he’ll finish right then and there.

“Pretty doll,” He pants. “Love —fuck, love having you against me,” At the pet name, you can’t help but keen, wanting to hear more of his praises. Planting one more kiss against his plush lips, you let your mouth travel down against his figure, only stopping when you’re right at his groin. You arch your back for better leverage, before guiding the tip to your awaiting mouth. You press your tongue against him, kitten licking around the head as you gather his precum, before pressing an open mouth kiss.

“Fuck,” He hisses when you let his tip go past your lips. “So good, such a good girl for me,” You keen at his words, humming around his cock before going further down, wanting to take more of him. When your tongue swipes at the underside of his head, you feel his thighs tense around you, hip stuttering a bit from wanting to fuck against the tight heat of your mouth. Haechan tilts his head down as he squeezes open his eyes, wanting to see you take him in.

You don’t get to test your limit on his dick before you feel a hand settle at your cheek, pulling you up and off of him. He leans down, meeting you halfway to kiss you, tasting a bit of himself when your tongues swipe against each other.

“Couldn’t,” he pants when you pull away from each other, hands gripping your waist as he manoeuvres you to lay flat against the bed. “Wanted to fuck you, couldn’t handle not being in you any longer.”

You smile at his desperation, letting yourself be handled into the position he wants you in. His cock shines with a mix of your spit and his precum, tip sensitive and red as he grips at his base, giving it a few pumps before tapping it against you. You whimper when his head meets your clit, finally feeling the pressure again where you want it the most. Haechan can feel his composure slowly slipping away, the control he’s had before withering as he sees you laid before him, chest heaving up and down and you wait for his next move. So pliant and so ready, all for him.

He says just as much, as he leans over you, placing a hand near your head while the other repeatedly taps his dick against your folds. “Look so perfect, so needy. All for me, right?”

“Yours,” You drape your hands over his shoulders, wanting to feel him all over you. “All yours,”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft as he says this, eyes lilting up from your pussy hugging his cock, as he slides over your folds, gathering your wetness onto himself. “All mine.” 

His eyes are now caught between your bodies, mesmerised by the way his dick looks between your folds. Straightening his back, you see him get hypnotised by the slide of your bodies together, keening into you further when you moan and writhe against him as his swollen tip brushes over your clit.

“Good for me,” he lets his hand slide down your body, gripping up and down your thigh before he grips himself at the base. Without another word, he slowly pushes himself into you, drowning in your moans as he bottoms out. You feel your walls clench tightly, sucking him in as you arch your body into him.

You curse when his pelvis stills at your hips, but he doesn’t move, staying fixed against you before dipping his head down, and landing a kiss on your lips. This time, his lips move with less fervour and more passion against you, suddenly slowing down the rush you feel buzzing in the air between you.

“Haechan, please,” You pant when he separates from you, hugging your legs around his waist and pushing your bodies together in lieu of wanting more. “Please move, want more,”

You don’t miss the shiver the throb of his cock inside you when you clench again, wanting to encourage him to do something. He presses a sweet kiss against your lips once more, and another against your cheek before pulling back; enough to be able to travel his gaze all over your face, taking in your dilated pupils and glistening lips. 

His eyes locked onto yours with a sincerity that sent shivers down your spine. "I like you," Haechan confesses, breath warm against your skin. "I want us to be more than just this; than just this moment." 

You’re taken aback by the sudden confession, yet you feel your body warm for reasons other than the heat that’s between your legs. 

"I don't want this to end either." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Haechan’s relieved smile lets you know that he’s heard you nevertheless. Diving down, he kisses you hard, teeth lightly clacking against one another as the both of you smile into each others’ mouths. He moves back a bit, before thrusting in and filling you once more, letting you feel him fully to the hilt over and over again. He moans low against your lips, and you feel your thighs shake around his waist, feeling overwhelmed by his touch and sounds.

“Can I,” He pants as he picks up the speed, his hand going to your leg before pulling it up to press flush against your chest. “Can I be yours?”

“Yes,” You whine. “Be mine, all mine.” You clench around his cock again, making him groan out against you. “Fuck, Haechan. I’m all yours. Please,” You aren’t sure what you’re begging for at this point, but it seems like Haechan is just a step ahead, knowing what you want before you can want it.

Pressing your legs against your chest, he goes to drive himself right flush against you, pressing you into a mating press. “S-shit—”

“Oh my god,” You sob as you feel him deep inside. “S’ deep,”

“You’re so pretty,” His eyes cast down between your linked bodies as he says this. “So pretty and hot, taking me so well.” He moves to clasp your leg over his shoulder, stretching you open for him, the pain in your body is nothing in comparison to the pleasure he delivers with each plough of his dick into you. “Can’t believe you wanted me to do this to you in front of everyone,”

“God—” Haechan’s words combined with the join of his finger against your clit send you into a fury, body clenching as your back arches off the bed. “Gonna—”

”Fuck you with my fingers where everyone can see,” His fingers tap incessantly against your bundle of nerves, hissing as you grip his bicep. “Would you let everyone hear you come? Show everyone who can make you feel this good,” He’s now mumbling to himself, hips snapping with a whimper falling from his lips when he feels your walls tighten against him. “Look at you, all fucked out and pretty. Who else makes you feel this good?”

“You,” you gasp, now panting, body wanting to writhe away from the overwhelming amount of feelings you’re filled with. “Only you can make me feel this good Haechan, fuck—”

“Are you close?” He hums, and a groan slips out from his lips at the nod of your head, watching the way you bounce on his cock, tits bouncing up and down from each drive of his hips. “You’ve been so good, let go, baby,” He leans in to plant a kiss on your lips and cheek, and with a few more targeted taps against your clit and a steady thrust of his hips, you feel hot white course through your body as you reach your peak. He peppers kisses down your face and into your neck, hips slowing down as he burrows his head in your neck, allowing you time to come down from your high.

As he goes to pull out and move away, you channel all your force to keep your legs locked behind his back, keeping him in place inside of you. “Inside,” Your voice is hoarse from feeling fucked out. “Come inside me, please Hyuckie,” 

It seemed that your words were all he needed to push him over the edge, as his hips stutter once, twice, before you feel the twitch of his cock inside of you and spurts of cum fill your cunt. His whimper muffles against your neck, bodies running hot as sweat gathers on your skin. 

“You good?” His voice is soft when he says this, hand coming to caress your hair and cheek, a stark contrast against teh harsh plough of his hips earlier. You smile dazedly as you lean against his palm, nodding and kissing his hand, which he pulls back gently and places a kiss at the exact spot your lips landed, before coming to kiss you directly. 

“Bear with me,” He mumbles when he pushes himself up straight, and you wince when he slowly pulls himself out of you. You can feel the slow gush of his cum seeping outside of your hole, and Haechan’s eyes looked mesmerised once more as he looks at your cunt. Almost as if by reflex, his fingers reach out to your sensitive core, gathering the messy mix of your fluids before plunging his fingers back into you, plugging your pussy back full with his cum.

You whine loudly at the overstimulation, spent body twitching as you let Haechan do what he wants. “S-sorry,” He still seems dazed as he says this, eyes unable to stray away from your pulsing pussy. “Couldn’t help it…” He pulls out his fingers, spreading them and looking at the wet mixture of your sticky release.

“Haechan…” His eyes widen when you mumble his name, but soften when you reach out your hands weakly, gesturing him in for an embrace. “C’mere,”

Like a teddy bear, he cuddles into you without hesitation, body curving into you as he gently moves both of you around to lay comfortably. He kisses the crown of your head, cheek smushing against your forehead as he tries to get as close to you as possible. “Was that good?”

You hum. “Everything I wanted and more, you were so good to me.” Although you know he tried to hide it, you still feel the giddiness course through him, his skin now growing warm against you at your praise.

You can slowly feel the exhaustion catch up, the task of keeping your eyelids peeled open getting more difficult as time passes by. 

“Thank you, Channie,” You mumble tiredly, feeling his skin rumble beneath you as he hums. 

“Anything for my baby,” And before you know it, you slowly fall asleep.

It didn’t take long for people to realise the two of you are together, and it wasn’t even Naeun’s fault this time.

The one who makes it known to the whole campus that you’re together is Haechan, and you would be flattered that he can’t help but mention you every second sentence, always finding a way to say the phrase ‘my girlfriend’ in any given context, but you also can’t help but be embarrassed about the fact that he’s parading you around like this.

So, everyone knows you’re together. But they also know the water bucket prank, and how you both now know who it actually was. 

Being the partner of the campus prankster and class clown means that everyone knows about the incident of you getting soaked right before your mandatory class. But when you had thought that it was Haechan to blame, the car ride back from the village had raised your suspicions of Minseok, when he had tried to convince you that it was, in fact, Haechan who pulled it; his source being.. gut feeling?

Jihoon had also confessed a week after the camping trip about how Minseok had drunkenly confessed to wanting to prank the prankster, setting up the water bucket thinking Haechan was to attend that class. Unfortunately, his plan fell through when you walked in instead. 

You would’ve accepted Minseok’s apology for dunking the water on you, even if he didn’t intend to do that to you; but that’s the problem. He didn’t apologise and even tried to deny the fact that he had planned on doing that when you had brought it up to him. He had avoided both you and Haechan, which was such a petty thing to do. With the grudge you’ve been holding against Haechan when you thought he was the original pranker, you’re unable to tone it down with Minseok this time around. You don’t want to start with the fact that it was a simple, water bucket again. 

So it goes without further saying that the party that’s being hosted by Sunwoo again is not one without purpose. Haechan had always had something up his sleeve when something like this happened (which, taking into account his reputation, this wouldn’t be his first rodeo). But unfortunately (but fortunate for one), you’re nowhere to be seen yet.

Minseok is bouncing his leg as he sits on the couch, hand gripping his cup which was been empty for more than twenty minutes, too nervous to move off of the couch and get himself more in case anything happens to him. When people come up to him, offering him a dance or a shot, he shakes his head no vehemently, not wanting to take the chance.

When Naeun drops down next to him on the couch, drink swiping around in his cup, his eyes widen in fright as his heart starts beating erratically. The girl giggles at his cautiousness, going to smack at his shoulder, which he effectively avoids just in case that was part of an act.

“It’s so funny—” Naeun’s giggle gets cut off by a hiccup. “Because, you’re so scared now. Did you plan on gluing yourself to the couch or is that what they pulled on you?” On her claim, Minseok’s bouncing leg immediately ceases any movement, as his body suddenly goes stiff, now looking at the girl beside him incredulously. 

Naeun shrieks in the middle of her laughter at his expression, as Minseok suddenly shoots up from his sitting position, looking at the couch he was just perched on while his hands grasp at his ass, checking for any damage. Naeun almost falls to the floor with how hard she’s laughing now, heaving at Minseok’s expense.

“Not funny,” Minseok frowns at her toppled figure, now warily scanning around the place once more, feeling vulnerable now that he’s standing.

Naeun rubs at the corner of her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. “They’re not here tonight if that helps.” It took the wary man a few seconds to realise who she was talking about. “Haechan had a last-minute shift to cover or something early tomorrow morning, and so they both decided to skip out on this party.” She chuckles against her cup, taking a sip as she lets her eyes scan Minseok’s quivered stance. “So you can relax. For now. I'm gonna go find the love of my life.. I mean Jeno,”  

The gleam in her eyes grows as she stands when Minseok scans around the party once more, before heading to the kitchen, deciding that he finally needs another drink.

Walking next to Haechan, you shush him when he suddenly starts talking loudly, animated expressions making you laugh while you shove at his shoulder with your own. You walk down the campus hallways, making your way towards the broadcast club room for today's meeting, with Haechan insisting on dropping you off.

When you’re shoving Haechan away from poking at you, nearing the door of the meeting room, your attention catches on to another person lingering in the stark empty hallway. When you look to you’re side, you’re met with Minseok, his expression shocked still as he, too, heads towards the room.

“Oh,” You’re a bit breathless from trying to avoid all of your boyfriend's onslaught attacks. “Hey Minseok,”

“W-what..” He starts, before clearing his throat, not wanting to come off as weak or scared. “What are you guys doing?”

Haechan’s arm is slung around your shoulder, squeezing you to his side. “Just dropping her off at the broadcast room.” Oh, of course. The same reason why he’s also situated in the hallway. 

“Go on, Seok.” You motion towards the door, encouraging him to go ahead first. “I’ll say bye to Haechan and I’ll come i—”

“No!” Minseok exclaims with his hands stretched out, shaking them vehemently before dropping them down after realising how dramatic his actions were. “Uh, it’s okay. I’ll wait, and we can all go in together." He hopes his expression comes off as kind, but from the look on both of your faces, it seems to be more similar to a grimace than anything.

“Actually,” Haechan starts, wanting to get rid of the awkwardness swirling. “I’ll come in too. Jihoon needed my help with a sound system.” Even with Minseok closer to the door, it doesn’t seem like the boy is gonna make an effort to go in; not unless you two do, and prove to him that nothing is waiting for him on the other side.

“Well, okay..” You glance at your boyfriend with a questioning look, to which Haechan merely shrugs at you, his mouth turned downward. Stalking towards the door, you open it slowly stepping in while holding it open for the two men to get in. Minseok is still vigilant, looking at all corners of the open door for anything out of place, famously a bucket of something, maybe.

But when you head in and look back at him expectantly, he stalks in eventually, embarrassed at seeming so cautious about —seemingly— nothing in particular.

A chorus of greetings is shared, with you and Haechan waving hi to everyone and heading towards your friends, sitting down and starting conversation. Minseok doesn’t let up, getting a thorough look at the room he’s frequented a lot, scanning for any misplacements or outliers. He squats down to take a look below the table and cranes his neck to take a good look at the ceiling. He’s the last to realise the room going silent, as everyone looks at him expectantly, casting glances at each other at his odd behaviour.

It’s Sohee who breaks his quest. “Are you gonna take a seat or not?” At that, Minseok startles, before realising that everyone’s attention is caught on him. His cheeks warm up as he goes to his seat, tucking himself against the table before muttering a meek apology. 

As the meeting commences, Minseok can’t help but look around the room restlessly, feeling on edge even when everyone sends him weird glances when he bounces his leg endlessly or takes a look to his left and right periodically. 

But the meeting ends, and nothing out of the ordinary happens. Everyone gets out of their seats, and you head towards Haechan and Jihoon, who are huddled in a corner next to the stereo, fiddling around with it as they finish up their work. Minseok suddenly feels ashamed for suspecting the two of you; just because he was menacing enough to pull something doesn’t mean you would do the same. Packing his things from the table, he goes to stand up and heads towards you, repeating in his head how to apologise to you two. But even with a hand braced against the table to steady him, he couldn’t get to his feet.

“What—” He tries to stand up once more, both hands now braced against the chairs’ handles, but to no avail. The chair topples ever so slightly as he exerts all his force, and it's as if he’s glued to the chair.

“You—!” When you turn to look at him, you topple over with laughter, your hand finding Haechan’s shoulder to shake, wanting to bring his attention towards Minseok who’s struggling against the chair. Haechan grins, coming to a stand next to you and looking at the boy. Everyone else giggles along at the carried-out prank, slowly filling out the room but not before taking a quick picture and video. 

“Oh no, are you okay Minseok?” Jihoon’s fake worry makes shame bubble in said person's stomach. “It seems like you’re stuck,” 

Coming up to him, you place a pair of pants on the table near him, giving him a sweet smile. “I don’t think you’ll be able to come out in one piece, so here’s some emergency supply.” You give him a pat against his shoulder, before Haechan softly grabs your hand, bringing you towards the door before giving Minseok a wave goodbye.

thank you loads for reading till the end!! I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, its late rn and I'm not bothered to really go through it thoroughly once more. also, will I ever learn how to pace my fics after the two characters get together????? guess we wont ever know

if you liked this, please don't hesitate to let me know!

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 11

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.9k

Note : please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags!!! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

"Give me Something I Need"

Saturday.

You hadn’t planned to slip out of bed that morning without a word to Bucky.

But Happy’s message had played in your head all night like a broken record.

Bucky shifted beside you, still lost in an all-consuming sleep. You sat still, letting him rest a little longer. Quietly, you unlocked your phone and reread the message:

You’re welcome to watch it whenever you’re ready.

Maybe you were ready now.

You glanced at the clock—8 a.m. 

Maybe it was time.

You hadn’t mentioned the message to Bucky last night, and some part of you didn’t want to. He’d been so drained, drowning in worry about your next mission. He didn’t need one more thing weighing on him. Besides, last night he’d been plagued by nightmares, hiccuped murmurs and tiny cries slipping out as he fought with the demons in his dream. You’d tried waking him up, but he was too far gone to notice your fleeting touch on his skin.

Maybe, part of you kept this from him because, for once, you knew it was your own scar to carry, your own battle to fight. You thought he’d want to help, would try to shoulder the burden with you. But just this once, maybe you wanted to face it alone.

So, as quietly as possible, you slipped out of bed. Scribbling a quick note, you left it on the pillow beside him:

Happy wants me at the compound. Be back soon.

After a moment’s hesitation, you picked up the pen again and added a final line beneath it:

I love you.

—

Happy was already waiting as you entered the hallways of the compound.

“Take it slow,” Happy said softly, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder outside. “You can walk away if it gets too much.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. The stillness in the media room was unnerving, the air thick and heavy as you took in the blank screen.

The blank canvas felt like a reflection of the fragments in your own mind.

You pressed play on the remote.

The first video flickered to life, and there you were. 

You were whole.

You looked alive in a way that felt unfamiliar—radiant, confident, like you never doubted you belonged here. 

You hardly recognized yourself— whoever she was. 

In a way, you envied her. She was so… certain. So happy. 

The screen revealed more moments from the life you’ve forgotten: your easy laughter, your strong and effortless movements, the way you looked at the world without the hesitations and doubts that now seemed entwined in your bones

As you watched, a recurring figure loomed in the background of each clip. 

Bucky. 

He was always there—hovering at the edges, never fully engaged.

In one video, you sat at the kitchen table, chatting with him, your voice bright and full of warmth. You could almost feel the hope in your own tone as you tried to draw him in.

Oh.

You noticed the way he hardly looked at you, his gaze averted, his responses clipped and distant. A slight frown tugged at your lips on the screen. Still, you’d pressed on, covering the disappointment with another forced laugh. Watching it now, you felt the sting of rejection reverberate you hadn’t felt with Bucky before. 

So you let yourself wonder:

How often had you tried, only to be met with that same coldness?

The next clip flashed to you and Bucky in the gym, sparring together. You were smiling, trying to get a laugh out of him as you moved, but he was stone-faced, his eyes cold and focused only on your flaws. He corrected your stance with a harshness that bordered on contempt, barely looking at you. 

It was so different from the flirty, loving touches he now shared with you in training. It was so different from the gentleness he shared with you in bed, how his arms wrapped around your waist lovingly as you slept through the night.

In the video, you stumbled, and he just watched, his gaze almost dismissive, as if your struggle wasn’t worth his time.

The camera switched to you as you turned and walked away in silence, his gaze trailing after you with a familiar vulnerability.

Clip after clip, a bleak portrait began to form. And with each scene, a twisted realisation began to settle over you like a dark cloud: Back then, you wanted him to care. You’d tried so hard to make him care— and he just… didn’t.

Did he… hate you?

It wasn’t just you and Bucky, though. 

The footage flickered to glimpses of other moments, happier ones. 

Yelena laughing with you, arms slung over each other’s shoulders as you traded jokes over a glass of wine. 

Sparring sessions with Sam, his encouraging grin as he gave you pointers, patting you on the back when you managed a successful move. 

Lazy snack breaks with Clint, the two of you sharing bags of chips and laughing about some ridiculous stunt you’d pulled on a mission. 

But in every moment, Bucky was there. He was somewhere in the background, always lingering. Watching. Close enough to be present, but never close enough to be part of it. He looked like an outsider, an intruder.

Watching it all felt like a cruel joke. 

Here you were, spending each day with him now, building something precious and real—or so you’d thought. This was a fracture in that reality, a fracture that had been there all along. 

Had you simply been too pathetic? Had you just been too desperate for connection, that you looked past everything in order to get a fresh start?

The clips rolled on, a carousel of emotions you had no memory of feeling.

The Bucky on the screen was nothing like the man you’d come to know these past months. 

This was a stranger.

 A brooding figure who loomed over you, distant, dismissive, every single interaction tinged with disdain, disapproval.

What did he want from you now?

Why was he here with you, treating you with gentleness and care, like you were precious to him? Did he genuinely care? Or was he just trying to ease his own guilt, trying to make amends now that you’d forgotten how much he’d hurt you?

The final clip began, and your heart sank as you saw yourself in the doorway, pleading with him, desperation etched into every line of your face.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed in the video. “I don’t want your company. I don’t need your pity. You think you’re being nice?”

You winced at the screen.

“I feel like I can't breathe around you,” 

The room fell silent, leaving you alone with the raw ache that spread like wildfire. 

The Bucky who had made you feel so loved, so safe, felt like an illusion now, a fabrication designed to soothe his own guilt.

Had he hated you that much? Had he resented you? 

Was this the man you were trusting with your fragile mind? The man you had trusted with rebuilding your heart?

The screen faded to black, leaving you alone with the echo of his words and the weight of memories that felt more like wounds. 

You couldn’t tell which Bucky was real. The one who now held you close, whispered reassurances against your skin, made you feel wanted and safe… or the one who had once pushed you away and looked at you like you were an unwanted burden?

When you finally rose, your hands trembled. 

The life you’d been building, the careful scaffolding of trust and affection you thought was real, felt like it was crumbling underneath your very feet. 

You looked one last time at the face on the screen—she was a person you didn’t know, a person who had once been you. A person who had tried so hard to break through his walls, who’d given him a piece of herself only to be met with a chill that bordered on contempt.

And now, you had to wonder if there was anything left of her worth reclaiming.

—

Every fibre of your being screamed at you to run away from this godforsaken place.

The air felt suffocating, as if even the walls of the compound were conspiring to close in on you.

You couldn’t look at anyone. 

You couldn’t bear the inevitable sympathy in their eyes.

All you knew, with a terrible certainty, was that you couldn’t stay here—not with Happy, who, despite the well-meaning confusion, didn’t understand the layers of the lie. Not with Sam, who was so close to Bucky he could probably piece together exactly what had been kept from you.

And not with Yelena, who, as close as she was to you, never uttered a word.

And to think, you had told her you love Bucky before you even told him.

You couldn't be with anyone else on the team. 

If they had kept this from you, what else had they hidden from you?

“Wait!” Sam’s voice rang out behind you, sharp and pleading. “Happy told me… Bucky messed up, we should have— Just let me explain!”

“Explain?” The word came out a near-snarling whisper as you turned around. “Explain what, Wilson? That it was somehow for my own good? That everyone thought it was better to string me along like a fool, to keep me in the dark? Or that Bucky—” your voice cracked as his name left your mouth, a crack that felt like it reached deep into the crater that had formed in your chest. “That Bucky can only stand to be around me now that I don’t remember how much he used to hate me?”

Behind him, Happy slowed to a jog. His expression was gentle, but hopeless. “I—I didn’t know,” he stammered, “I didn’t know he would come across like this—”

“Don’t.” The word lodged in your throat as you shook your head, stepping back.. “Just…stay away from me. Both of you.”

Sam stood there, his mouth half-open. He wanted to bridge it, to find some way to fix this— you were his friend, and Bucky was the closest thing to his best friend, after all— but he kept his distance.

The shattered look on Sam’s face told you he understood. 

You turned before the tears could break through, fleeing down the steps, your footsteps echoing hollowly against the sterile walls, each stride dragging you further from the truth, further from everything you thought you knew.

It felt so eerily like the day you snuck out of the compound the first night you remembered.

You had trusted them—all of them. Clint, Bruce, Scott, Rhodey, Happy, Sam, Yelena…and Bucky. Especially Bucky. 

The Bucky you thought you’d known, the Bucky who’d held you close in the dark hours, who’d promised to protect you.

As you reached the exit, gasping for air that felt painfully thin you realised that maybe you had never truly known him at all.

—

By the time you stumbled through the door, Bucky was already gone, out on his morning run. The apartment felt hollow once again, just like when you first moved back in. You shut the door behind you, locking out the world. You leaned against the door to hold yourself up. The anger that had burned out in a great ball of fire was now replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.

The home– your home– that you had welcomed Bucky into, that you’d come to share with him— felt surreal. Every piece of clothing that was his, every soft throw blanket you cuddled under felt like a mocking reminder of what you’d thought was real—his gentle smiles, his soft voice pulling you out of the dark, his arms wrapped around you in those vulnerable hours just before dawn. But now you knew it was only a cruel joke you hadn’t been in on.

What truly haunted you was how quickly he had changed.

You saw the time stamps— put everything together.

I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m around you, he had said.

That was the night before mission.

You woke up a week after.

He turned disdain to affection in one week? How was that even possible? And who’s to say he won’t change again in another week?

Your legs gave out and you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. Somewhere, deep in your heart, there was a fragile shard of hope, clinging desperately to the idea that it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. But that hope was buried deep now, with no chance of ever clowning it back out.

The videos Happy had shown you kept replaying in your mind, like a twisted record skipping over the worst parts— Bucky, cold and dismissive. 

You’d trusted him, told everything to him, let him be the anchor in a life you could barely remember. And yet, he had pushed you away, treated you like an inconvenience, and let you believe in this version of him that never truly existed.

One week.

That was all it took for him not to hate you anymore, apparently. He must want something from you, right?

And after all that you’ve been through, you would not let yourself be used— not as a vessel for Bucky Barnes to ease his guilt, if that even was what he’s looking for.

And to think that he had any right to deny you of a mission you were ready for.

To think that you had let him dote on you, let him control you?

It made you feel sick.

The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted you. Your heart skipped as Bucky stepped inside, looking every bit the familiar, gentle Bucky you’d grown to love. He carried a bag of groceries, likely planning another quiet night in, oblivious to things you now know.

When his stare landed on you, his brows furrowed with concern. “Hey,” he said softly, setting down the bag, “Everything okay?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “You need to leave,” you said, your voice coming out cold and sharp. It was the only armour you had left.

He blinked, confused. “What?”

“Get out.” you spat.

Bucky’s face fell into a frown, his confusion twisting into panic. “What’s going on?” He took a tentative step toward you, but you backed away, each inch of distance feeling like a wall between you.

“Happy showed me footage from the last three years,” you managed, your voice trembling. “I saw the way you treated me—like I was nothing, like you couldn’t stand the sight of me. You didn’t even like me, did you?”

Bucky froze.

Shit.

Too late. He was always too damn late when it came to you.

He’d been so obsessed that Yelena might spill everything, that he’d forgotten about Happy—the one person who was in charge over those cameras, with no idea of the mess he’d even made. Well-meaning Happy, who would have only shown you the footage because he thought it would help.

Then, a wave of guilt crashed over. 

God, he should’ve told you. He should have given you something, a thread of truth to hold onto, a warning, anything to soften the blow. But now—what did he have? Just the wreckage of a truth you’d been blindsided by.

And he knew how it looked. 

Even if he wanted to tell you why he was distant, would you even let him try to explain? Or would you see it as just another lie, another desperate attempt to hide the truth from you?

The colour drained from his face, and his mouth opened as if to speak, but you cut him off, your words rushing forward, filled with years of hurt you hadn’t didn’t you could carry.

“I trusted you, Barnes! After everything, you were the one person I trusted—my memory’s gone, my past, all of it, but I had you.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed on, each word heavier than the last. “But you couldn’t stand me before, could you? You only started caring once I forgot. Once I couldn’t remember all the times you looked at me with nothing but resentment.”

His eyes widened.

“No, no, it’s not… it’s not like that,” he stammered, a visible desperation, shaken to his core. “Please, it’s not what you think—”

“Then what is it?” you shot back, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your voice. “Did you just prefer me like this? Do you like me broken? Do you like me weak? Does this do something for you? You sick fuck.”

He stepped closer, hands up as if to calm you. “You don’t understand. I—”

“I don’t understand?” you choked out, the agony spilling over. “I saw how you looked at me, how you dismissed me. Am I supposed to believe this—” his hands pointed up and down his body, “—is real?”

His face twisted in pain, but you refused to let yourself feel anything for him, anything but the betrayal coursing through your veins wildfire. 

“It was all a lie,” you whispered, shattered.

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head desperately. “It wasn’t… it’s not a lie. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You pointed toward the door. “I want you to leave.”

His eyes, filled with anguish, filled with tears burning on the edge “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I don’t know you, Barnes,” you replied, your voice hollow, drained of all feeling. “Not really. And after what I saw, I don’t think I want to.”

“Please—”

“Out!” you cut him off.

He stood there, waiting for you to find your footing, but you held firm, your voice as cold as the truth you’d uncovered.

Finally, he gave a small, defeated nod. 

Slowly, he turned, each step toward the door reluctant. When he reached the threshold, he paused, his hand hovering on the doorknob, as if waiting for a sign, some word from you that might let him stay.

But when he glanced back, he found only the sharp gaze you levelled at him. Whatever hope he’d held onto was lost.

Without another word, he left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

—

You stood there, staring at the closed door. For the first time, you felt the void he’d left behind. 

You did it.

You had pushed him out of your life as he had once pushed you away. 

But instead of relief, the hurt deepened, and the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free. You sank to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, your body trembling as sobs reverberated through you. 

You had lost everything—your past, your memories, and now the only person who you had loved in this new, fractured life. 

-to be continued...

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[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 3/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [in this chapter: oral (f. & m. recieving), whole lot of teasing, dirty talk ohohoho, praise too, very crack/fluffy/soft, first time], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: we're on the last couple of chapters aaaa!!!!! this has been such a ball to write, thank you all to everyone who has been patient with me and my work <3 if you're wondering why my ao3 "has more chapters," that's because i split the story's chapters on the basis of setting, if that makes sense? but the content posted here & there stays the same! hope this makes sense, or you can just hop on my ao3 and read it there if you're confused. 

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you watched suguru disappear through airport security, a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

he’ll be okay, right? 

you kept telling yourself he would be, that he was suguru, and if anyone could handle this gracefully, it was him. his quiet resolve when accepting the wedding invite was proof enough… but there was still that little worry.

then, of course, there was your own life to consider. 

you had a lot on your plate, and maybe that was why you didn’t have as much time to let your mind dwell on suguru’s situation. because just as suguru was closing one chapter, a whole new world of chaos was opening up for you.

the explosion of “mating with the dragon king” on social media had brought nothing short of madness for the team at gojo-sonic. toji’s voice acting was all over the place, going viral within days, with fans clamoring for more and turning audio snippets into memes, thirst tweets, fan edits — the whole nine yards. 

toji had gone from your secret boyfriend/situationship/“is this a real thing?” guy to a sought-after voice icon practically overnight.

and that, in turn, meant everyone at gojo-sonic was running overtime. gojo and shoko were handling the bulk of the social media cross-posting, with gojo obsessively upgrading gear and insisting on “maximum quality,” dragging shoko into his whirlwind plans. there were sound tests, new mic placements, adjustments to soundproofing in the studio, and — thanks to a trend gojo had seen online — experiments with “immersive audio.”

then there was the fan engagement: gojo insisted on answering every single question in the comment section, which kept shoko up at night to keep up with the influx. she even started experimenting with a few out-of-the-box ideas herself, like limited-time merch drops (her idea, of course) that ranged from mugs and t-shirts to an official “mating with the dragon king” plush.

but your role was far from a background one. 

no, you had a looming deadline for the sequel of “mating with the dragon king” — one that fans were now waiting on with an impatience that bordered on feverish. because once the sequel was out? 

toji would inevitably be back in the booth, bringing it to life with that deep, rumbly voice that had captured everyone’s attention.

oh, god, you thought, a sudden wave of panic hitting you. you had imagined the sequel, sure. 

but had you imagined it being this big? and this soon?

you could already picture toji smirking as he teased you with lines from the new book. the idea of him bringing your words to life again was thrilling — and terrifying, all at once. 

what if i can’t finish it in time? what if it’s not good enough? what if fans hate the new direction?

and still, you had to admit… something about the insanity of it all was exhilarating.

it was one of those late, cozy nights where the three of you — megumi, toji, and you — were all huddled in your apartment, which was sparklingly tidy since toji’s last visit, thank you very much. no empty cans of mountain dew rolling under the table, no fast food bags piling up in the corner. you even caught him glancing around with this pout, practically bemoaning the absence of lingerie on your lampshade.

“dramatic ass,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he stretched out on the couch, shaking his head as if you’d betrayed him by cleaning up.

“you know, i miss the… ambiance of the place,” toji teased, one eyebrow cocked as he stretched his arms over the back of your couch. “nothing quite says ‘writer’s den’ like takeout and underwear draped everywhere.”

you snorted, turning back to your laptop. “sorry i deprived you of such art. maybe i should throw my socks around the place just for you.”

“wouldn’t be the same,” he sighed, leaning back and watching you type away.

and then — surprisingly — toji started… actually giving you advice. as you typed out the next few scenes of your book, he leaned in, reading over your shoulder with a squint that softened into genuine interest.

“you know,” he started, “if you’re gonna have the dragon king confront the knight here, shouldn’t he be a little more… i dunno, cocky?”

you paused mid-keystroke, surprised. 

“cocky? you think he’s not cocky enough?”

“yeah, i mean, he’s the dragon king,” he said with a little shrug. “doesn’t need to hold back. if he’s as powerful as you say, he’d probably be flaunting it more. show the knight he’s completely in control, get into his head a little.”

you considered it, nodding slowly. “huh. i hadn’t thought of that. but that’s actually… kinda perfect.”

he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “see? this is why you need me around.”

“oh please,” you scoffed. “you think you’re an expert now because you read, like, half a chapter?”

toji chuckled, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “just callin’ it how i see it, sweetheart. think i might know a thing or two about intimidation.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “okay, sure, ‘intimidation expert.’ so… what do you think should happen next?”

“well,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “what if instead of outright threatening the knight, the dragon king pretends to befriend him? y’know, make him lower his guard. he could talk about how ‘understanding’ he is, maybe even share a drink or something, but all while he’s setting up the knight to fail.”

“you’re onto something,” you said, eyebrows raised as you typed up a few notes. “i could use that to build tension between them.”

“exactly. you get it,” toji said, leaning back with a smug smile.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head. “who would’ve thought you would be helping me with plot development?”

“hey, i’m full of surprises,” he winked, giving you a little nudge. “besides, i like helping my girl out.”

your cheeks warmed, but just as you were about to respond, a small voice piped up from behind you. 

“why can’t the dragon king be friends with the knight?”

both of you looked up to see megumi standing there, his arms crossed as he squinted at your laptop screen.

“what’s that, kid?” toji asked, leaning over to ruffle megumi’s hair, but the boy dodged it with a huff.

“i think they should be friends,” megumi repeated, tilting his head as he studied your document. “it’d be cooler if they were best friends, even though they’re supposed to be enemies.”

you looked at toji, who blinked, then shrugged as if to say, well, he’s got a point.

“friends, huh?” you mused, considering it. “but they’re, like… sworn enemies, ‘gumi. they’re on different sides.”

“so? friends can be on different sides,” he replied, completely serious. “maybe the dragon king can teach the knight things about dragons and fire, and the knight can show him sword stuff.”

toji chuckled, folding his arms. “sounds like he’s thought this through more than we have.”

you leaned back in your chair, nodding thoughtfully. “you might be onto something, megs. maybe they could start off as enemies, but end up working together at some point.”

megumi’s face lit up, clearly thrilled that you were taking his suggestion seriously. 

“yeah! like, maybe the knight is only fighting the dragon king because he doesn’t understand him. and then they talk, and he realizes the dragon king isn’t so bad.”

toji let out a low laugh, raising a brow at you. “well, looks like we have ourselves a new co-writer. you hiring, sweetheart?”

you laughed, ruffling megumi’s hair. “you know what, maybe i am. you wanna help me write this book, megumi?”

megumi grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “yeah! i’ll make them the bestest friends ever.”

toji smirked, pulling megumi onto his lap as he sat back, arms around him. “guess we’ll have to make this a regular thing, then. family book nights, huh?”

your heart melted a little at the sight of them together, and you couldn’t help but smile. “sounds like a plan.”

the word family rang in your ears, echoing over and over, refusing to quiet down. 

family book nights. 

it sounded so casual, so… certain. as if the three of you already were a family. like the idea of you, toji, and megumi spending evenings together was just normal. something he assumed you’d keep doing.

a gentle warmth crept over you, but it mixed with a twinge of confusion, and maybe a bit of worry, too. megumi clearly saw you as someone close — close enough to leave his prized legos on your shelves alongside your makeup, which you had given a special spot as if they belonged there. and you’d gotten used to him padding around your apartment, lounging on your couch like it was his second home.

but what about you and toji? 

what did it mean, the two of you making quiet breakfasts with megumi’s chatter filling the space, or all those little private moments, where he’d pull you close and kiss you in a way that made your heart race? it was something that felt like commitment, like you were both slipping into each other’s lives piece by piece. 

yet… you’d never actually talked about it. 

about what any of this was, what the kisses or the way he always wanted to be around you really meant.

it wasn’t like you were just casual, either. toji had been there for you through your chaotic schedule, your looming deadlines, even giving surprisingly thoughtful advice on your writing. 

and you’d been there for him, too, sharing these quiet, vulnerable moments that went beyond a simple fling. but despite all of that, there’d been no explicit commitment. no labels, no official this is what we are conversation. 

and maybe you hadn’t minded, up until now.

but toji’s offhanded mention of “family” — it had shifted something. your heart was suddenly tied up in knots, and you found yourself wondering if you were just reading too much into it, or if maybe, just maybe, he thought of you in the same way you were beginning to think of him.

lost in thought, you barely noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched him with megumi. your mind buzzed with a hundred questions, each one sparking new uncertainties and hopes. 

is this what we are? a family? 

is that what he wants, too?

“hey, you okay over there?” toji’s voice broke through, his eyes glinting with amusement as he noticed your far-off expression.

you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, cheeks warming under his gaze. “yeah, i’m… just thinking.”

“about what?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he gave you that familiar smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes.

you opened your mouth to answer, but found yourself hesitating. 

what would he say if you just blurted out everything you were feeling? 

if you just asked him what this really was?

instead, you gave him a little shrug. “oh, just… book ideas. plot twists.”

with megumi finally dozing off in the middle of your bed, the soft sound of his steady breathing filling the room, you and toji tiptoed out to the living room. 

time to tackle the smut section, you thought, dreading it a little. this part always managed to be equal parts thrilling and exasperating to write. and tonight? 

you were completely, hopelessly blocked. 

every draft seemed stale, as if you'd used the same recycled phrases one too many times.

toji noticed immediately. he always did. 

leaning back on the couch, he smirked as you groaned in frustration at yet another blank page.

“y'know,” he said, voice a little too casual, “if you’re really struggling here, i could offer some… hands-on help.”

you shot him a warning look, rolling your eyes as he just grinned back. “oh, real helpful, mr. cliterature.”

toji snickered, unaffected by the jab to his ego. “i’m just sayin’. i happen to be good at this stuff,” he drawled, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch, looking entirely too smug. 

“and i’ve got a lot of ideas. call it… creative inspiration.”

you gave a small laugh, even though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. was he serious?

toji caught the look on your face, his grin turning almost… inviting. “look, maybe it’s not writer’s block you’re dealing with,” he teased, leaning in just a bit closer. 

“maybe you’re just… unmotivated.” his voice was low, coaxing, and damn if it didn’t make your heart beat a little faster. 

“so… should i help you get in the right headspace?”

for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had a point.

the minute toji offered his “help,” he felt a little like a perv. a line had definitely been crossed, but what was he supposed to do? you were asking for inspiration, and he just happened to have a few… ideas of his own. 

sure, he knew you were kind of jittery when it came to the physical stuff, but god, if he didn’t want to see you beneath him, to hear you whimper and moan. he was getting ahead of himself, though; this was supposed to be about writing, right?

“you sure you can handle it?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eyes.

you shot him a nervous look, your fingers hovering above the keyboard. “well, it’s either this or staring at a blank page forever,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. 

cute, he thought.

“exactly. so let’s start simple.” he leaned in, capturing your neck between his lips, pressing soft kisses that sent a jolt down your spine. this was nice, you thought, trying to focus on the sensation instead of the racing thoughts in your head.

“m-maybe i should… um… write this down?” you managed, hands shaking slightly as you fumbled to adjust the laptop on your knees.

“no need to rush,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. “just feel it.” he nibbled softly at the curve of your neck, and you nearly dropped the laptop.

“toji!” you gasped, trying to keep your composure while your heart raced in your chest. “this is… um, kinda distracting.”

“good. that’s the point,” he replied, his lips continuing their exploration. “i’m just setting the mood, babe. think about how this feels.”

you let out a shaky breath, the heat pooling in your stomach as you tried to jot down your thoughts, but all that came out were half-formed sentences that didn’t make sense. 

“this is supposed to be… research!” you squeaked, but the way he was sucking and nibbling at your neck made it hard to think straight.

“isn’t research supposed to be hands-on?” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with mischief. 

this was definitely a line crossed, you realized, but god, did it feel good.

“y-you’re a terrible influence,” you breathed, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but the playful smirk on his face told you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“and you love it,” he shot back, diving back in to plant more kisses along your neck, and all you could do was gasp and try to write through the haze of pleasure.

you were trying desperately to type something coherent, but your fingers were like they had suddenly developed a mind of their own, hitting keys at random and producing a glorious mess of gibberish. 

great job, you genius, you thought sarcastically. get all hot and bothered over a few neck kisses — what’s next?

your concentration shattered as you felt toji’s hands slide beneath the hem of your loose shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

oh, lovely. just what you needed. 

now, instead of articulating the tension between characters, you were supposed to describe both sensations — his mouth on your neck and his hands groping your tits.

“you’re making this a little hard, you know?” you managed to squeak out, trying to keep your voice steady while your heart raced. 

your fingers fumbled over the keyboard, and all you could think was how you were definitely going to get a solid “F” for focus on this assignment.

“oh, really? hard, huh?” toji’s voice was laced with playful arrogance as he continued his exploration, thumbs pressing into your chest, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. 

so much for being a good influence, you thought dryly, almost wishing for a second that you had stuck to research papers instead.

“look at that, you’re not even writing,” he teased, pressing his palm against your chest, a bold move that made you gasp. “where’s that award-winning author i’ve heard so much about?”

you glared at him, half amused and half exasperated. “she’s currently being distracted in the middle of a very important research session.”

he laughed, the sound rich and infectious. “who needs research when you can have a firsthand experience?”

“this is supposed to be about character development!” you protested weakly, trying to make sense of the disjointed words on your screen. “how am i supposed to write about a dragon king and a princess when you’re busy turning me into a blushing mess?”

“focus on the feelings,” he replied, his hands moving with a confidence that made it hard to concentrate. “feelings are important, right?”

well, you thought, he wasn’t wrong. 

your cheeks flushed hotter as he squeezed gently, the sensation conflicting with your need to maintain some semblance of writerly dignity. 

“i guess i’m just…trying to find the right words,” you mumbled, practically squirming as he continued to toy with you.

“good luck with that, babe,” he said, an infuriatingly charming grin spreading across his face. “but i can assure you, all that gibberish on the screen isn’t gonna help. sometimes you just need to let go.”

let go? the idea sounded almost freeing, but the practical side of your brain was still wrestling with the fact that you had a deadline looming. 

“what if i don’t get my manuscript finished?”

toji leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “then i guess we’ll just have to come up with some creative solutions, won’t we?”

you groaned internally, realizing you were in way over your head, but the way he looked at you made it hard to care about anything else. 

“this is not how i envisioned my writing process,” you sighed, but even as you said it, the thrill of his touch made your resolve waver.

what a disaster, you thought, but at the same time, a part of you was absolutely here for it.

the heat radiating from your laptop on your thighs mixed with the warmth pooling in your core made you feel dizzy, and suddenly, the manuscript didn’t seem to matter at all. 

screw the deadline, you thought wildly. screw the manuscript. 

you needed this hunk of a man right now.

without thinking, you pulled your shirt off, feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline and regret. 

oh god, what have you done? 

the cool air hit your exposed body, sending chills across your skin, but it was nothing compared to the look on toji’s face. his jaw dropped comically, eyes wide as he took in the sight of you in your bra.

“well, hello there,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent. “are you trying to kill me? because it’s working.”

“i — uh — ” you stumbled over your words, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. 

you are not a main character. why the hell did you just do that? your inner monologue was spiraling, but the heat of the moment overshadowed any logic you might have had.

“what? do you expect me to be cool about this?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes practically devouring you. “you just stripped in front of me! how am i supposed to react?”

you fumbled to cover yourself, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “i thought… maybe it would help with the writing? you know, get in the mood?” you mumbled, feeling ridiculously silly for saying it out loud.

“get into the mood?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-incredulous. “baby, you just put me in a state of absolute chaos! this isn’t about mood anymore; it’s about survival!”

survival? you thought, but then you caught the glint of mischief in his eyes, and suddenly, the weight of your insecurity felt a bit lighter. 

“you could just, um, you know, not look?”

“and miss this view? no chance in hell,” he smirked, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “besides, why would i want to miss the chance to admire a beautiful lady?”

your heart raced at the compliment, battling between feeling flattered and mortified. “but you said i write gibberish!” you retorted, the words tumbling out before you could think better of it. “how am i supposed to be taken seriously as a writer when i’m sitting here in my bra?”

“oh, you’re serious, alright,” he said, unabashedly leaning closer again. “and if you keep this up, you’re going to be more than just a writer.” he paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “just think of all the inspiration we could gather right here.”

you swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks heat up even more. “toji, you can’t just say things like that!”

“why not?” he challenged, amusement dancing in his eyes. “if you wanted me to shut up, you shouldn’t have given me a show like that.”

you felt your insides fluttering, a strange mix of embarrassment and thrill surging through you. 

what was happening? 

“i didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, unable to articulate your thoughts, feeling ridiculously caught off guard.

“oh, don’t even play coy with me now,” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence. “besides, the real question is: what do you want?”

your mind raced at the implications, suddenly realizing the gravity of your actions. 

what did you want? 

you thought you wanted to write, but right now, with him leaning in, the idea of writing seemed worlds away. maybe you wanted this? 

the thought was tantalizing and terrifying all at once.

“i —” you began, but your voice faltered as he reached out, brushing a thumb against your bare skin.

“just say it,” he urged softly, his gaze steady and inviting. “what do you really want?”

you took a shaky breath, caught in the moment, knowing you were dangerously close to stepping into a territory you had only ever written about. but you were here, in the flesh, and he was waiting for an answer.

“i want…” you started, feeling both exhilarated and terrified. 

the moment you said you wanted him, toji nearly cheered. 

it took everything in him not to let out an actual whoop of excitement, but he had to remember the little sleeping figure in your room. megumi was tucked away, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few feet away on the sofa. 

and here you were, about to lose your v-card to your super hot colleague.

“so, uh, just to be sure,” toji started, trying to play it cool even as his heart raced. “you know we have to keep it down, right? can’t wake the kid.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you looked up at him, and damn, you looked so cute it nearly drove him wild. how could you be so oblivious to how breathtaking you were?

“right, good,” he said, clearing his throat, his brain whirling with the implications. “and just so we’re clear — this is what you want?” he leaned in closer, the air between you thick with anticipation.

“yes, i want this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. god, you were so cute.

“okay, okay, but…” he paused, feeling the weight of the moment. “i need a pinky promise.” he held out his pinky, the humor of the situation almost making him chuckle. 

his massive frame was caging you against the sofa, and yet, here he was, asking for a pinky promise.

“are you serious?” you laughed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement lighting up your face.

“hey, it’s important! this is a big deal, alright?” he insisted, trying to keep a straight face. “pinky promise me you want this. like, for real.”

you reached out, your smaller hand wrapping around his pinky, and he felt an undeniable rush at the gesture. 

“pinky promise,” you said with a grin, your confidence shining through.

“alright, then. let’s get to it,” he replied, his voice low and steady, even though he felt like he was about to explode.

he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, teasing kiss, savoring the taste of you. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you melted against him, and it only fueled the fire in his belly. 

“just remember,” he murmured against your lips, “we’ve gotta keep it quiet.”

“right, quiet,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he trailed kisses down your neck.

he couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the thrill of the moment. 

“you know, this is definitely not how i pictured your writing sessions going,” he teased, pulling back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“yeah? how did you picture them?” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

“i don’t know,” he said, smirking, “maybe less —” he gestured to your exposed torso, “ —and more brainstorming about literature.”

“this is literature!” you protested, your cheeks flushed with heat.

“sure, sure,” he laughed, leaning in again, capturing your lips once more. “but it’s not just about writing. it’s about the experience.”

your breath hitched again, and he felt your body responding to him, the way you leaned into him, craving more. 

“so, you’re saying i should take notes while you —”

“now you’re getting it,” he interrupted with a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips before continuing down your neck, relishing the way you squirmed beneath him.

“this is so distracting,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to keep your focus.

“distracting?” he echoed, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “that’s the idea. if you’re gonna write about it, you might as well get some real-life experience, right?”

“right, but — oh!” you gasped as he nibbled at your skin, sending sparks shooting through you.

“just relax,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry. “i’ll take care of you.”

this was going to be one hell of a writing session.

you were trying your absolute best to keep track, really, you were. 

you had a job to do — a manuscript deadline that was breathing down your neck, and this was… well, technically research, right? 

but as toji’s mouth pressed hot and needy kisses along your shoulder, then to your collarbone, the exact order was getting fuzzy. 

was it the nip to your bra-covered chest first and then that delicious pressure against your pulse point, or the other way around? 

honestly, at this point, even your notes looked like gibberish.

“mm, you’re really focused, huh?” toji’s voice was smug, with a lazy grin that could probably melt glaciers. he glanced down at your not-so-steady hand trying to type one-handed on the laptop next to you and chuckled. “this part of the book that important?”

you swallowed, nodding as you scrambled to refocus, even if every nerve in your body was firing off for entirely non-work-related reasons. 

“y-yeah. research. gotta… capture the sensations. the character dynamics.” 

but god, your voice wavered, betraying exactly how not on top of things you were.

“uh-huh,” he said, raising a brow as he leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with that wicked look. “and do these characters also get this close?” his hips pressed insistently against you, the not-so-subtle hardon pressing against you making it extremely difficult to focus on anything but him.

“it’s… it’s a… a very passionate story,” you managed, trying to keep up some semblance of professionalism, but the words came out more like a breathy whimper. you could practically feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed along your jaw, his hands wandering in ways that made coherent thought feel like a long-lost friend.

“just remember, babe,” he murmured, low and teasing as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “you’re the one who asked for hands-on help. gotta commit to the scene, right?”

you bit your lip, focusing — or at least trying to. “yeah, i just… need to remember every step for… for later.” 

as if you could even think straight with him leaving trails of kisses down your neck, his rough fingers skimming over the bare skin of your waist.

“oh, every step, huh?” toji’s mouth moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses over the fabric of your bra. “you’re gonna write about how the dragon king’s all riled up too?” he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“because ’m guessin’ he’d be… pretty hard to ignore, wouldn’t you say?”

you swallowed, cheeks flushing hot as your eyes flicked down to where his hardon pressed against you, demanding attention. 

“y-yeah,” you managed, cheeks burning. “can’t ignore him at all.”

he chuckled, low and sultry. “that’s my girl.” one of his hands reached up, teasing along your sides, slowly moving up until it found its way to your bra strap. 

“you, uh, want help describing this part too?” his tone was innocent, but the glint in his eyes was anything but.

“toji,” you squeaked, shooting him a glare despite the warmth pooling in your core, the heat from his body practically radiating into you. “i don’t think the dragon king was this forward in chapter fourteen —”

“oh, he’s forward in this chapter,” toji murmured, his lips quirking up as he let his fingers trail along the edge of your bra strap. “trust me. he’s been waiting.”

“right,” you said, your voice embarrassingly shaky as his lips found their way back to your neck, a little nip to your skin that had you gripping the sofa beneath you. 

“he’s… he’s definitely waiting…” your voice trailed off as the pressure of his mouth sent a spark straight through you. you could practically hear your own characters’ voices narrating it in your head—

damn it, you were turning into your own leading lady.

“you know,” you muttered, desperately trying to find some control here, “this is technically a writing session. so maybe you should… y’know, help me keep notes on this?”

toji grinned, fingers skimming down your waist. “oh, i’m helping, alright.” his thumb brushed over the skin of your hip, pulling you just a bit closer. “but if you need the full experience babe, you gotta put that laptop down.”

“the full experience?” you repeated, breath catching as his mouth found your collarbone again, your hands tingling as you felt every inch of his warm, solid weight pressing you into the couch.

“you know i’m not a —”

“a main character girl?” he interrupted, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “yeah, right.” 

his gaze softened, though, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “trust me, sweetheart. you’ve got that in you. just… let yourself have it.”

the laptop was abandoned — gently tossed to the coffee table, where it settled with a thud you barely registered. all you could focus on was the feeling of his rough hands tracing your shoulders as he finally slipped the clasp of your bra free. you could practically hear him exhale, a low, reverent sound that was part sigh, part growl, as he took in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, beneath him.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost to himself, his gaze intense, drinking in every inch of exposed skin like it was some forbidden treasure. he looked at you like he could hardly believe his luck, and for a moment, you swore you saw his focus waver. 

it was… endearing, actually, how his usually cocky confidence stumbled when faced with you, bare and vulnerable and trusting.

“toji,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath, as his hands skimmed down your sides, drawing goosebumps in their wake. he chuckled, a warm, raspy sound, but you could tell he was just as rattled as you.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?” he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours for a beat. “and here i thought i was supposed to be the big, bad dragon king.”

you snorted, half-dazed, your hands moving to grip his shoulders instinctively. “well, this isn’t very dragon king behavior, is it?”

“oh, trust me, babe,” he growled, fingers trailing lower, making you shiver under his touch. “’m just… gettin’ warmed up.”

then his mouth was on you, lips closing over your nipple, and you had to actively bite down on your lip to muffle the high-pitched squeak that escaped your throat. 

you’d been prepared for his hands, the calloused fingertips brushing over you, but his mouth — hot, teasing, so much more than you’d expected — was a whole new battlefield.

“t-toji!” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your entire body. he chuckled, a low rumble, mouth curving in a smirk against your skin.

“now, now, you were supposed to be quiet,” he whispered, voice laced with that familiar teasing edge. “megumi’s right down the hall, remember?”

you glared at him, though it was probably more of a pitiful attempt given how out of breath you were. 

“you — god, you’re the one making all the noise…,” you muttered, squirming as he only doubled down, his mouth leaving trails of heat across your chest, lingering in a way that made you feel absolutely undone.

he paused, lifting his head just enough to grin down at you, his eyes gleaming. “oh, you’re blaming me, huh?” he teased, raising a brow. “thought you wanted my… hands-on help.”

“yeah, but…” you trailed off, cheeks burning, as his mouth moved lower again, tracing around your tit again. 

“not like this,” you whispered, and it came out more as a whimper than you’d intended.

“oh, trust me, it’s exactly like this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his hands came up to hold you steady as his lips found their way back to your tit, tongue flicking over your nipple just enough to draw out another, higher-pitched squeal. 

you could barely focus, let alone remember how to breathe, as he skillfully coaxed more sounds out of you, like some damn orchestra conductor who knew every one of your weaknesses.

“okay, that’s… not fair,” you choked out, fighting the urge to arch into him. “i thought i was supposed to be taking notes.”

“oh, you’re taking notes, alright,” he chuckled, pressing a final, teasing kiss to your chest. “bet this’ll make one hell of a chapter, don’t cha think?”

you froze for a second, realizing that while here you were, topless and feeling vulnerable under his heated gaze, he was still fully clothed. 

well, almost. 

toji was lounging in just his gray sweats and that black compression tee stretched over his ridiculously broad shoulders, hugging every line of muscle like a second skin. and you, like a fool, were only just now noticing how unfair this was.

"wait a second," you muttered, hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling the firm warmth of him through the fabric. "why am i the only one halfway undressed? where’s the equality here?"

toji’s lips quirked in that half-smirk of his, eyes glinting with amusement as he tilted his head. 

“oh? so that’s how it is, huh?” he teased, his hands tracing light circles along your waist, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “you just wanna see the goods?”

"maybe," you mumbled, a little breathless despite yourself. your fingers slipped down to the hem of his shirt, tugging just enough to let him know you weren’t kidding.

“well, since you’re asking so nicely…” he leaned back and, in one fluid motion, pulled the compression tee over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him. 

and wow. 

your jaw might have actually dropped.

your eyes traced the defined lines of his torso, all hard muscle and taut skin, shadows dipping into those sharp v-lines that disappeared into his waistband. each detail seemed sculpted to perfection, his pecs broad and firm, abs visibly tense, and his shoulders… 

good lord. 

toji fushiguro looked like he was carved straight out of a fantasy. 

you swallowed, heat pooling in your stomach, very aware of the way his gaze was fixed on you, almost predatory.

“so? what’s the verdict?” he asked, voice cocky but still a little rough as he watched your reaction with clear satisfaction. he shifted, arms tensing a bit like he was showing off — not that he really needed to, honestly.

you tried to play it cool, but your voice came out breathy, betraying you. “well, uh… equality’s restored,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

he chuckled, leaning back in closer, and his breath was warm on your neck as he murmured, 

“oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to hold back on my account.” his lips brushed the shell of your ear, teasing. “go on, touch all you want.”

you swallowed, hands trailing over his chest, tracing each ridge and groove of his muscles with your fingertips. every time your fingers brushed over him, he’d inhale a bit deeper, his muscles flexing in response.

"didn’t know you were hiding this under all those sweaters and hoodies,” you murmured, lips twitching into a grin as you kept tracing along his torso.

“mm, well, if i’d known it’d get me this kind of attention…” he grinned, hands tightening on your waist as his voice dropped to a rumble. "maybe i’d have stripped down sooner."

you rolled your eyes, still taking him in. “you’re insufferable, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are, practically drooling over me,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“you wish,” you retorted, but it was weak, considering your hands were still exploring every inch of his chest like it was your personal map.

“oh, i know,” he said, and before you could sass him back, he dipped his head to press a trail of hot, slow kisses along your collarbone, his voice dropping even lower as he murmured, “now, where were we?”

the air felt thick, heavy with every shared breath, each soft whimper from you met with toji's low, gravelly groans that reverberated through his chest and straight into you. there was nothing between you now — just skin on skin, the heat from his body practically searing into yours. his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, almost as if he couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance between you.

you both let out a sharp exhale at the same time when that familiar, aching throb in your core made itself very known. you could barely focus, hips shifting slightly, seeking… more. 

and then you felt it — a certain twitch against your thigh that made your cheeks flare up instantly.

“shit,” toji mumbled, pausing just for a second to meet your gaze. his pupils were blown, gaze dark, and yet he somehow looked almost surprised himself. “you feel that, huh?” his voice was rough, low, like he was barely holding himself together.

you could only nod, biting your lip, feeling that throb intensify in response. 

you wanted to say something clever, something to keep the mood light, but all that escaped you was a quiet, desperate “yeah…"

he chuckled breathlessly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “look at you,” he murmured, one hand trailing down to squeeze your hip, his thumb tracing small circles just to keep you even more on edge. 

“you sure you’re ready for this?”

“toji…” you practically whimpered, squirming in his grip, his voice sending another jolt straight down to where you ached. “you’re the one who offered, remember?”

“mm,” he hummed, his voice going even lower, the words barely a murmur as his hand trailed up your thigh. “i did. and trust me… i’m gonna make damn sure you don’t regret it.”

the throb in your core turned into a full, needy ache, and from the way he was looking at you, it was clear he was just as affected, every breath deep and slow like he was savoring this moment. 

it took every ounce of self-control not to just… well, throw yourself at him, but he was giving you that little smirk that said he was definitely going to take his sweet time with this.

oh god.

you didn’t even get a chance to formulate a comeback before he had your pants halfway down, those dark eyes glinting with way too much satisfaction at your wide-eyed, barely-composed look. 

this man was on a mission, and your brain was rapidly short-circuiting.

“matching set, huh?” he mused, a smug grin spreading across his face as he glanced from your discarded bra back to the lacy underwear you were currently trying to keep from absolutely melting in. “dare i say you were planning this, sweetheart?”

oh, you wanted to snap back. something witty, maybe a sarcastic quip — but his hands settled at the curve of your hips, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to send a shiver up your spine, and it’s like every coherent thought just fizzled out right there.

"don't push your luck, fushiguro," you managed, voice barely a whisper, trying your best to sound confident.

"oh, i'm not pushing anything...yet." he smirked, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned over your exposed skin, and oh god, was he eyeing your underwear like he was already halfway through devouring you with just his gaze?

as if it couldn’t get worse — or better — he hooked a finger around the waistband, tugging just slightly and raising an eyebrow. 

“tell me when to stop,” he murmured, teasing, waiting for a sign, a word — anything.

you gulped, feeling the air go heavy, and the words came out before you could even stop yourself. “don’t stop.”

toji could swear he heard a damn orchestra kicking off in his head the second he finally got you out of those damn panties, his eyes fixed on the sight of you bared beneath him. 

honestly, he felt a little dizzy — a grown man, practically undone by this — and he was not about to mess it up. yeah, he was ready to dive in.

but god forbid he skip over anything as important as making absolutely sure you were okay with it.

his breath came out uneven as he leaned closer, warmth fanning over your core. "you... you're sure about this, right?" he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, his thumb grazing your inner thigh as his other hand tightened its hold. "you can stop me anytime, really. swear on our little pinky promise." he gave a small, reassuring squeeze, but you could hear the faintest tremor in his words.

“toji,” you murmured, breath coming out in frustrated little puffs, but he just kept talking, checking and re-checking because he wasn’t about to mess this up.

"just gotta be absolutely sure, sweetheart," he said, now with a crooked smile, eyes twinkling like this was both the most serious and hilarious thing he’d ever done. "if this is too much, just tell me." he pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh, half-expecting you to push him away or maybe even change your mind.

instead, he felt your hand on the back of his head, fingers gripping tight and — oh. 

well, that was his answer then, wasn’t it?

“just — stop talking,” you mumbled, shoving him down in a way that left no room for ambiguity, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he finally made contact with your cunt.

that was all he needed. 

any restraint he’d been clinging to snapped, and he closed his mouth — well, not literally — because he was about to put it to much better use.

the minute toji’s mouth latched onto you, your brain might as well have been yanked out and replaced with static. 

this was nothing like what you’d written — no, this was raw, needy, almost overwhelming. 

in your books, eating out had been... gentler? polished, even, with words like “savor” and “caress.” things like “he licked her like she was the sweetest dessert,” and even “he lapped at her like she was honey.”

but this? 

this was... messy. desperate. 

each flick of his tongue sent jolts through you that words could never do justice to. “velvet-soft licks” and “feather-light touches” — pfft, no, you were beginning to realize how off the mark you'd been. where was the “velvet softness” in the rough warmth of his tongue, the almost urgent pressure he was putting on you?

you could practically see your own overly-romanticized lines flashing in your head as if taunting you: “gentle ministrations left her a quivering mess.” 

yeah, you were quivering all right, but the way he worked his mouth was anything but gentle. in fact, the “gentle assault,” as people liked to call it, felt like he was trying to unravel every last nerve. every hum he let out against you sent another wave of heat straight to your core, and every swipe of his tongue was this maddening blend of rhythm and chaos, hitting spots that made you gasp and clutch at his hair with abandon.

“you really wrote all that poetic stuff?” he mumbled between licks, barely lifting his mouth from you, smirking against your skin like he knew exactly how thrown you were. “guess you’re gonna have to rewrite it all, huh?”

you wanted to retort, but words were beyond you. 

instead, a strangled, nonsensical sound escaped, and he chuckled, letting his mouth return with more insistence, even nipping lightly just to see you jolt.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. ’m just givin’ you some material to work with,” he whispered, eyes flashing up to meet yours, clearly relishing in how absolutely wrecked you were under him.

not even a couple minutes in, and already, you were close to cumming — so close that all your earlier attempts at keeping it together turned into outright babbling.

“oh — god, toji, that — right there, don’t you — ah!” you whimpered, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as his tongue found that one spot that made your thighs start trembling around his head. “don’t... oh my god... don’t stop — please don’t —!”

your fingers clawed into his hair, trying to keep him right there, as if he even needed a reminder. and if your writhing and half-coherent pleas weren’t enough encouragement, toji could feel the telltale quivering of your legs, see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. 

yeah, you were gonna cum, and he knew it.

“that good, huh?” he muttered against your folds, the vibration making you moan even louder. “wanna tell me what you’re feelin’ right now so you can remember it for that research of yours?”

“t-toji, please — just —” you stammered, your brain too fried to give him anything but desperate babbles. “need you to... oh — just keep going, don’t — don’t talk, just...”

he chuckled against you, but his mouth never slowed. in fact, he redoubled his efforts, tongue pressing firmer, alternating between those long, slow drags and quicker, flicking strokes, every one sending electric shocks through your body that you could barely process. all you could do was clutch at his hair, unable to find the words to tell him how close you were.

he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of this, watching you like this, your usual sharp wit and composure reduced to nonsensical pleas and gasps, and all because of him.

“come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, slipping his hands under your thighs to hold you steady, his fingers digging in just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted. “you’re so close, can feel it. don’t hold back — show me how good it feels.”

and that was all it took. 

your body seized up, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the tension finally snapped, sending a wave of pleasure that left you reeling. you barely registered your own voice, the words spilling out somewhere between a plea and a demand.

it took a solid sixty seconds for reality to come crashing down on you — that the whole time, you’d been squealing like a lamb to the slaughter, blissfully unaware of the fact that megumi was literally sleeping in the next room over, across the hallway.

god, you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. you’d just hit new decibel records, loud enough that anyone within a two-room radius would be alerted to the whole scene unfolding out here.

you covered your face, cheeks blazing as post-nut clarity came barreling in like an uninvited guest at a party. 

the first realization: holy hell, you’d just had an orgasm coaxed out of you by another person. 

and not just any person — nope, the man looking at you with that trademark smug look, his brow cocked as he tried to keep from laughing.

“what?” he asked, his tone as infuriatingly self-satisfied as ever, his lips glistening with the very evidence of your... uh, situation. “you look like you’re about to combust or somethin’.”

"no! i just... can’t believe... that really happened,” you stammered, swallowing the absurdity of it all, hardly able to meet his eyes. 

“and with you, of all people.”

“oh, yeah? who were you thinkin’ about when you were writing that smut of yours?” he grinned, lounging back, way too pleased with himself.

you swatted his arm, finally managing a scowl. “oh, shut up! this wasn’t — i wasn’t — this was supposed to be a research exercise.”

“well, you did get a little, uh, hands-on learning,” he teased, eyes twinkling, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“toji! i was practically screaming,” you hissed, scrambling to pull a pillow over yourself, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “megumi’s in the next room! do you know what i’ll do if he heard that?”

he just chuckled, completely unfazed. “oh, he sleeps like a rock. trust me. he’s not gonna hear any of this. but if you’re worried about it, guess we’ll just have to work on our volume control next time, huh?”

next time? 

you almost spluttered at the very idea, but there was something addictive in the way he said it, like this whole scenario was already just the beginning of some ongoing arrangement. 

and you? 

well, after that, the idea of another round didn’t sound half bad — embarrassment and all.

“oh, don’t act like you’re not into the idea,” he teased, catching that glimmer of interest despite your efforts to seem outraged.

you sat there, a confusing blend of irritation and... something else, as you noticed toji’s situation. 

his hard-on was still very much an issue, evident in the way his sweatpants strained against him. at first, he tried to play it off, waving his hand like it was no big deal. “eh, don’t worry about it,” he muttered, attempting nonchalance despite the clear discomfort in his voice.

but that just felt like a challenge.

“oh, so you’re just gonna sit there like that?” you asked, a mischievous smirk curling at your lips.

toji cocked a brow, clearly sensing where this was going. “what are you gettin’ at?”

you scooted closer, feeling a surge of confidence at the sight of his expression changing, almost as if he couldn’t believe his luck. 

"well, since you put so much effort in, maybe i should... return the favor?” you murmured, your fingers slipping down to graze the waistband of his pants.

the second those words left your mouth, toji practically choked, his composure unraveling just enough for you to catch a flicker of nervous excitement. 

“careful what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” he rasped, voice thick, though you could see the flicker of a smirk.

but when you tugged his pants down, just enough to free him, that cockiness took a swift exit. 

“you’re serious, aren’t you?” he breathed, his usual bravado slipping as you took him in hand.

“oh, don’t act like you’re not excited,” you teased, shooting him a wink as you started slow, savoring the way his head fell back, a low groan escaping his lips.

by the time you took him fully, sliding your mouth down and earning a strangled, “shit — fuck, careful, sweetheart,” you knew you were onto something.

his fingers found your hair, gripping lightly, though you could tell he was barely holding on, his muscles tense, jaw clenched. 

“if you keep goin’ like that, i swear... i won’t last,” he ground out, practically panting. but that only spurred you on, determined to make him unravel completely. 

and toji? with the way his hips bucked, his hand clenching and unclenching, he was clearly in blissful agony, barely holding back.

it was almost surreal, really — the flashes of every single “m oral” scene you’d ever meticulously crafted in your stories were running through your head. it was like you’d written these moments for a thousand characters and now, finally, you were experiencing one yourself. 

only… no scene you’d ever written could’ve fully prepared you for this. 

the way your mouth stretched around him, the warm weight of him against your tongue, the salty taste mixing with the faint scent of him — it all just felt so real.

and “death by dick?” 

well, you’d imagined it a hundred times in jest, but with toji... you couldn’t think of a better way to go.

him, on the other hand, looked completely floored, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you, mouth parted in disbelief. 

“this… your first time doing this?” he asked, almost incredulously, voice hoarse and breathless, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact.

his question earned a sly, humored look from you, but you didn’t stop, dragging your tongue along his length in a way that made his grip tighten in your hair. “shit, babe, you… you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, though there was a distinct pride laced in his tone — like the idea of being your first made him want to last as long as he could and cum in a few minutes all at once.

“you’re too damn good at this,” he rasped, brows furrowing in concentration as he struggled to hold back, the feeling of your soft lips and the light suction nearly enough to make him lose it right then and there.

toji was doing his best to keep a gentle rhythm, letting you adjust, guiding you slowly — because damn did he want you to be comfortable. 

but the closer he got to cumming, the harder it was to hold back, and before he knew it, all kinds of filthy words were slipping out of his mouth.

“you’re really using your colleague for this, huh?” he rasped out between heavy breaths, his voice low and rough. “actin’ like you’re all sweet ‘n innocent, but here you are, puttin’ that pretty mouth to good use…” his fingers tightened in your hair, every word spilling out dirtier than the last as he fought to stay coherent. “couldn’t wait to see what it’d feel like, huh? what i’d feel like?”

you could only hum in response, both stunned and electrified at how he spoke to you, a thrill shooting through you with every low, teasing word. he alternated from murmured praise, telling you how good you were, how perfect your mouth felt, to more degrading words that made your cheeks heat up, his voice dripping with that gruff, amused edge.

“never thought my sweet author would be down on her knees, looking so — ah, shit — filthy.” his grip on your hair grew firmer, his breaths coming out quicker, as if he was barely holding himself together. “look at you… chokin’ on me, takin’ it like a good girl…”

and just as he’s about to cum, his body moved on instinct. his hand tightened in your hair, and he pulled you down until your nose brushed against his stomach, feeling him pulse against your tongue. you choked a little, the sensation overwhelming, and with a shuddering groan, he finally came, riding out his release.

the second he did, though, his eyes went wide. 

“oh, shit, shit — baby, you okay?” he was practically tripping over his words as he pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face with an almost frantic gentleness. 

“i didn’t mean to — god, i… i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to…you alright?”

as you tugged your shirt back on, toji slumped back into the sofa beside you, throwing a very dramatic sigh your way. 

“really? you’re putting the shirt back on already?” he scoffed, throwing his head back, one hand over his heart like he’d just been personally betrayed.

“oh, please,” you rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh. “i think you got a pretty good view already, mister dragon king.”

he snorted at the nickname. “still, it’s a shame. i was just getting used to you, y’know, without it.” he gave you a playful grin, eyes wandering a little too purposefully down your now-covered torso. “it’s practically disrespectful to put it back on after that.”

“disrespectful?” you shot him a look, pretending to be scandalized. “says the man who had the nerve to yank my pants off like I wouldn’t notice.”

“hey,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in mock innocence, “in my defense, you looked way too good with them off.” he shrugged casually, though the gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “besides, you didn’t seem to mind.”

“maybe,” you admitted, leaning back against the sofa with a little smile. you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you just a bit closer until you could feel the warmth of his bare chest against your side. “still... not sure i’ll ever live down what just happened.”

“which part?” he raised a brow, looking amused as he tucked you closer to him. “the part where you tried to suffocate me or the part where you shoved my head down?”

you smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “shut up. i didn’t shove you — i just... suggested very strongly.”

he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “yeah, yeah, you ‘suggested.’ guess it’s good i’m into pushy women, huh?”

you both laughed, and as the sound settled, you realized just how right this felt. 

there was something strangely comforting about this moment — the two of you, just sitting there, basking in the quiet after all the chaos. you couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, the kind that made you all too aware of how special this moment was.

“hey,” you murmured, glancing up at him, suddenly feeling a little shy. “i’m... glad it was you, for, well, you know... all of this.” you gestured vaguely, but toji’s gaze softened, like he understood exactly what you meant.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now, thumb brushing a gentle circle on your shoulder. “didn’t think i’d be the one, honestly. but... i’m glad it was me too. you’re kinda... unforgettable, you know that?”

you laughed, cheeks warming. “you sound like one of my romance novels.”

“oh, please.” he gave a little scoff, though the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable. “if i were a romance novel guy, i’d be way more dramatic than this.” he paused, then threw in a mock-swoony, “oh, my darling! i shall never forget this evening of rapture!”

you burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as he continued, exaggerating his voice and gestures, “the way you, my fair lady, shoved my head to the heavens... or rather, between your —”

“okay, stop,” you wheezed, playfully slapping his arm again. “you’re impossible!”

“impossibly charming,” he corrected with a smug grin.

the laughter settled, and you found yourself just gazing at him for a moment, savoring the warmth and the easy comfort between you. it was a strange feeling — new, yet familiar at the same time. with a sigh, you leaned into his chest, letting your fingers trace little patterns along his arm.

“thanks, toji,” you murmured softly, “for being... you.”

he looked down, his expression softening as he pulled you closer. “hey, anytime.” after a moment, he added in a playful whisper, “and for the record, i’m still protesting the shirt.”

you rolled your eyes, but nestled deeper against him, smiling to yourself.

toji let out a low groan, glancing at the clock. “ugh, we should probably get to bed,” he muttered, reluctantly shifting on the sofa.

“yeah,” you agreed with a little sigh, realizing how late it had gotten. “megumi’s probably sprawled all over, snoring up a storm and drooling on my pillow.”

he chuckled at that, standing up and stretching. “kid’s probably babbling away about frogs or something. you know he was talking about ‘frog powers’ the other night?”

you laughed, following him as he headed toward the bedroom. “he’s got an active imagination. wonder where he gets it from...”

toji gave you a teasing smirk. “oh, yeah? well, you’re the writer in this house.”

you both reached the door, easing it open gently to peek in. sure enough, megumi was lying right in the middle of the bed, completely hogging the space with an arm thrown over your pillow, tiny mouth open, drooling a little as he mumbled something unintelligible.

“my pillow’s gone,” you whispered with a chuckle, shaking your head. “but look at him. i can’t even be mad.”

toji just stared for a moment, the soft rise and fall of his son’s chest filling him with a strange warmth. he was quiet, but there was this look in his eyes — a mixture of tenderness and awe. 

he leaned close, murmuring, “every time i see him like this, i can’t believe i got so damn lucky. that i get to be his dad, y’know?”

you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “you’re a great dad, toji.”

he smiled softly, wrapping his fingers around yours. “thanks,” he said quietly, his gaze still on megumi. after a beat, he added, “c’mon, let’s get in there before he wakes up and realizes he can kick us off the bed.”

you both carefully slipped under the covers, but this time, instead of settling on either side of him like usual, there was a silent understanding — a new, natural shift. you curled up behind megumi, your arm wrapped around his little body, while toji slid in behind you, his arm settling around your waist. he felt you press a soft kiss to megumi’s head, and something about the moment felt... whole. complete.

toji nestled closer, his chest warm against your back, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “this... yeah, this is pretty perfect.” his hand found yours under the covers, intertwining your fingers together.

you smiled, feeling the warmth of him surround you. “feels... right, doesn’t it?”

“more than right,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “never thought i’d be the guy lying in bed, cuddling up with... with you, and him.” he swallowed, a hint of emotion in his voice. “never thought i’d get this lucky.”

you squeezed his hand, and the silence that followed was soft, peaceful. after a moment, toji’s fingers traced slow circles over your knuckles as he mumbled, “think he’ll mind if we’re both here when he wakes up?”

“probably not. he’s got his favorite people right here,” you whispered back, feeling his thumb brush along your hand. “plus, i don’t think he’d mind waking up to his frog-loving dad next to him.”

toji chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. “yeah, frog powers and all. kid’s got taste, huh?”

“must take after his dad,” you teased, grinning.

he snorted. “oh, don’t go putting ideas in his head.” he shifted slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “but hey... thanks. for this. for... y’know, letting me have this.”

you leaned back into his embrace, closing your eyes. “wouldn’t want it any other way, toji.”

and with that, the three of you drifted into a warm, quiet sleep, held together by a bond that felt as strong as anything you’d ever known.

sitting at your laptop, you found yourself typing with a newfound intensity, almost unable to keep up with the words spilling out of your mind and onto the screen. 

the romance between the dragon king and the princess — previously a plot device to add some “spice” — now felt infused with something else entirely. something raw, something softer, something more... real.

toji’s touch, his voice, his warmth — all those things lingered in your mind, guiding your fingers as you breathed life into scenes that once felt staged. now, they felt natural, like they were flowing from some deep, hidden well. it was almost laughable how last night’s escapade had changed everything, but you couldn’t deny it. you smirked as you wrote, feeling every word resonate with a clarity that wasn’t there before.

and then, after hours of relentless typing, a quick text to shoko: 

you [12:30 pm]: hey, mind taking a look at the new chapter?

within minutes, she was at your place, reading your screen as you paced in the background, trying not to hover.

“alriiight, what do we have here…” shoko began, her eyes scanning the text. she paused. blinked. 

then slowly lifted her gaze to you, one eyebrow arched. “you... did write this, right?”

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, crossing your arms with a smirk. “just... tell me what you think, alright?”

she raised her hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright.” then her eyes dipped back to the screen, and this time she read aloud, 

“the dragon king’s fingers traced along the princess’ collarbone, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the weight of his strength. ‘you’re safe with me,’ he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear.”

she stopped reading aloud, her eyebrows raised a little higher, and then looked at you. 

“...safe with me? wow. last time i checked, this guy was like, ‘get in my lair, princess,’ but now he’s a softie? who is this dragon king, and what did you do to the one who existed, like, two days ago?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the heat creeping up your cheeks. “well, maybe he’s... evolving. finding his softer side, or whatever. i don’t know, shoko, do you like it or not?”

she leaned back, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face. “oh, i like it alright. you’re actually writing a romance. like, a legit one. not just something with ten billion euphemisms for —”

“don’t say it,” you interrupted, laughing and waving her off.

she just laughed. “fine, fine, but seriously, what happened? you’ve always been good, but there’s something... different here. it’s like you’re channeling the romance instead of just writing it.”

you swallowed, feeling that flutter in your chest as you recalled the night before, with toji and the way he made you feel so... cherished. it was so much more than just physical, and it translated into every keystroke.

“maybe i just... i don’t know, felt inspired?” you muttered, giving her a small, sheepish smile.

“inspired, huh?” she grinned knowingly. “well, whoever gave you that inspiration, tell them i say thank you. this stuff? it’s gold.” she leaned forward, her expression softening a bit. “this isn’t just commercial smut anymore. this has heart.”

you felt a sense of pride bloom inside you as she kept reading, the quiet tapping of her finger on the edge of your desk as she occasionally mumbled things like, “oh, that’s good,” and “damn, that’s really good.”

“sooo... what’s your verdict?” you asked when she finally looked up, a grin teasing at her lips.

she closed the laptop with a flourish, fixing you with a smirk. “well, i can’t wait to see where this story goes. you’ve finally gotten to the real heart of it. don’t stop now. oh, and if that dragon king of yours has any friends... i’d like one. just sayin’.”

laughing, you gave her a hug. “alright, alright, if i find one, you’ll be the first to know.”

and as she left, you sat back down at your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. 

inspired? maybe. 

but something told you it was more than just that. and as you resumed writing, you knew this was exactly where the story was meant to go.

toji ^.^ [6:26 pm]: hey, you busy? you [6:30 pm]: yeah 😭 but i'm thinking about you both! toji [6:32 pm]: yeah? thinking enough to take a break and maybe come over later? you [6:40 pm]: :((( i REALLYY wanna, but this chapter has me by the throat. gotta finish while the inspiration’s hot. toji [6:40 pm]: yeah, i get it.  toji [6:40 pm]: still, kinda wish you could be here… you [6:41 pm]: i know! i’ll make it up to you and megumi, promise. you two are always on my mind 💕 toji [6:41 pm]: alright. don’t work yourself to death, alright? we miss you. you [6:42 pm]: 🥺🥺 hug him for me, yeah? toji [6:42 pm]: always. but holding you to that promise.

it was late, and toji had just finished reading megumi his favorite story, watching him drift off, all tangled in the blankets. toji was barely leaving the room before he heard megumi mumbling sleepily, almost to himself.

"when's she coming back?"

toji felt that pang, the same one he got every time you were too busy to swing by. he tucked the blanket a little tighter around megumi’s small frame, brushing a hand over his hair.

"she’s got a lot of work, bud," he murmured, low enough that megumi might not even hear. "she’ll come soon, i promise."

megumi nodded sleepily, giving a tiny, droopy smile before settling back into the pillow, and toji let out a soft sigh, watching the little guy drift back off.

a few days later, toji was back at gojo-sonic, caught in the back-and-forth about the upcoming project when satoru, who was way too perceptive for his own good, leaned over with that smirk of his.

“soooo, toji, how’s the ‘inspiration’ been treating you?” satoru teased, one eyebrow arched.

“shut it, satoru,” toji muttered, rolling his eyes but not able to hide the hint of a smile.

satoru shrugged, grinning like he’d struck gold. “hey, i get it. long-distance love, practically a tragic romance. she’s probably typing away, ignoring you...”

toji groaned, already regretting sharing any details. but then satoru’s expression softened, just slightly.

“hey, she’ll come back around. give her time. just means she’s actually doing what she loves, right?”

toji nodded, a bit of that weight lifting. he missed you, sure, but there was something about seeing you so passionate about your writing, knowing he’d sparked even a part of it. 

and if that meant a few late nights alone, well... it was worth it.

toji dragged himself down the hallway, nearly ready to collapse with each step. the recording had been a nightmare — a mic malfunction right in the middle of his best take, a last-minute script revision that completely changed the character’s tone, and a sound engineer who wouldn’t stop fussing over the tiniest background noises. all he wanted was a strong drink and a bed to crash in. 

maybe both, at this rate.

as he turned the key in the door and stepped inside his suite, though, he heard... giggles? his eyes blinked, adjusting to the dim light. in the middle of the room, megumi was squealing, running from none other than you, who were wearing an iron man mask, arms outstretched like you were going to scoop him up at any second. the sight stopped him dead in his tracks, exhaustion washing away in an instant. 

of course, he remembered giving you a spare key, but it still surprised him to see you here, like a surprise balm to his long day.

“daddy!” megumi yelled, darting over to him, grabbing onto his leg. “look, it’s iron man!”

toji huffed a laugh, setting his bag down. “yeah? well, iron man better be careful before he gets ambushed.”

you lifted the mask, peering at him with a grin. “hey, dragon king. long day?”

“you have no idea,” he muttered, shaking his head, but he couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto his face. 

seeing you here, with megumi so happily engaged in a silly game, felt like walking into a whole new world, one where he could just breathe.

“want me to blast him with my repulsor beams?” you joked, wiggling your fingers in megumi’s direction. the little guy shrieked, pretending to hide behind toji’s leg but clearly loving every second of it.

“better not,” toji chuckled. “he’s got a long night of running around ahead of him, looks like.”

“oh, come on,” you teased, tossing the mask aside and crossing the room to wrap your arms around his waist. “i think the dragon king deserves a break.”

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “yeah, i’d say so. didn’t expect to find you here tonight.”

you smiled, looking up at him. “thought i’d surprise you. guess it worked?”

“yeah,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “worked a little too well. can’t say i’m not happy about it.”

“okay, ew,” megumi said, tugging at toji’s pant leg. “can we go back to iron man now?”

toji laughed, ruffling his hair. “yeah, yeah, don’t get jealous, kiddo. why don’t you show her the move i taught you earlier?”

megumi’s face lit up as he immediately struck a pose, fists clenched, trying to look all tough. “look, iron man! i can fight like daddy!”

“oh, wow!” you gasped, feigning surprise. “i don’t stand a chance, do i?”

“nope!” megumi declared, clearly proud.

toji watched you both with a softness he rarely let show. 

somehow, you just fit right in here, with him and megumi, in a way he didn’t think was possible. his life was so often filled with tension and challenges, but seeing you like this, in his space, making megumi laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world... well, it did something to him. 

the world outside could keep its troubles. right here, right now, this was all he needed.

“y’know, i was about to make myself a drink,” he said, glancing at you. “but this... this might be better.”

you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “well, lucky for you, i already poured you one. just sitting there on the counter waiting for you to notice.”

toji raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the drink he’d completely missed. “oh, so you’re full of surprises tonight?”

“just for you,” you murmured.

toji sank onto the sofa, cradling the glass you'd poured for him. as he took a sip, he let out a satisfied hum, leaning back and watching as megumi raced around the room, still brimming with energy. you were crouched down, arms out and dramatically dodging his attacks, fully committing to the role of iron man battling his formidable opponent, the "evil dragon." 

toji couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing his son’s face alight with happiness, and decided he’d add a little fuel to this game.

he cleared his throat, straightening up on the couch as if on a stage, and dropped his voice to a low, gravelly tone. "ah, iron man! you’ve come to challenge the mighty dragon!" he boomed, lifting his drink dramatically. "but little do you know... i have an army of minions at my command!"

"oh no!" you gasped, feigning shock, as you glanced at megumi. "the mighty dragon has backup?"

megumi cackled with delight, waving his arms around. "yeah! and i’m the strongest one!”

toji held his hand to his chest, fighting back laughter as he leaned into his role. "you’ll never defeat us, iron man. my son, the evil dragon prince, will make sure of it."

megumi, now fully invested, stomped his foot. "get her, dad!"

"aha, but iron man has a few tricks up her sleeve!" you declared, lunging forward with playful swipes, causing megumi to dart behind the sofa for cover.

toji watched, transfixed, as you and megumi continued the game, your laughter blending together in a way that filled every corner of his suite. his heart swelled as he saw the ease with which you fell into this little world with them. 

he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d started to imagine it, but in this moment, the thought fully settled in him: this was what he wanted. 

a life where you were more than just a visitor, where you were there every day, filling their home with laughter and warmth, where megumi had a mother he adored just as much as his father.

"don’t think you can escape my wrath that easily, iron man!" he called out, smirking as he put on an exaggerated serious face, holding back a laugh. "this villain is relentless!"

"oh, we’ll see about that!" you shot back, now crawling over to the sofa, reaching for toji’s leg as if to pull him into the fray.

toji raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. "wait, no! not me! i’m just an innocent bystander!"

"yeah, right!" megumi giggled, pushing toji’s knee to “trap” him. "you’re on my team, daddy, you’re evil too!"

"right, right!" toji winked at you, lowering his voice. "well, if i must play the villain… then let it be known that the evil dragon prince and i have one weakness."

megumi’s eyes widened, and he immediately looked to you, curious. "what is it?"

toji glanced at you, a soft smile on his lips. "our only weakness is… iron man’s hug attack."

"ah-ha!" you shouted triumphantly, launching yourself forward and wrapping both of them in a bear hug. megumi squealed in delight as toji laughed, caught up in the warmth of your arms around him. for a moment, the three of you were just tangled up on the couch, the room filled with the sound of giggles and breathless laughter.

as he held you close, toji let himself fully sink into the feeling. 

he knew then and there, more clearly than ever, that he wanted this to be his life. 

he wanted you as his wife, as megumi’s mom. 

he wanted this laughter, this warmth, every single day. his hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent promise he hoped you’d understand.

you looked at him, your gaze softening, a knowing smile on your face. "thanks for the assist, dragon king," you murmured, squeezing his hand back.

"anything for iron man," he replied, his voice low and affectionate. "besides, someone’s gotta keep this dragon prince in line."

megumi pulled back just enough to look up at you both, an innocent grin on his face as he pointed between you. "you two should team up more often," he declared, clearly oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words, but making toji’s heart race nonetheless.

toji chuckled, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulder. "you know, kid… i think you’re right."

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[melancholy-of-nadia]

la la lost you (m) | cyj

title: la la lost you  pairing: yeonjun x f. reader  rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff, smut ; rivals to lovers au; fake relationship au summary: choi yeonjun was simply just your academic rival, competing for honors at graduation during your senior year. however, when one of your (distant) friends’ brothers is getting married, your 3 guy best friends all have dates to the event except you. in order not to feel like a loser, you decide to call up the only other tolerable male you know: Yeonjun, to be your fake date. what will happen when a childish fake date scheme actually ends up turning into your first real relationship lasting an entire summer. it may ultimately.. not end well. warnings: fluff, smut, language, underage drinking, summer fling, riding, fake relationship, oral s*x, car s*x, multiple dates, overprotective yoonminjoon, cameos of other idols, cumming, kisses, partying, angst, eventual break up note: this is a prequel one shot to the 'love u lately' series. however you don't need to read that series to understand this one shot. honestly might be better if you haven’t read it! it will heavily focus on the mentioned previous relationship reader had with yeonjun before starting college (which explains certain events and character thoughts in the series) and well as the perspectives of yoonminjoon and their attitudes towards it as they were still struggling with how they feel towards reader, which is explored in 'love u lately' I hope my btxt lovers can enjoy this fic! (please note that this is about 15% unedited, so apologies for any grammatical errors in advances) total word count: 21.5k drop date: September 13th, 2023 12:30PM PST ao3 link | fic is named after NIKI's song La La Lost You (2019)

–

Daniel Yeonjun Choi.

You encountered him in your Honors English class during freshman year, and somehow, he's always been in the same AP or Honors classes as you.

On the contrary, Jimin’s only been in five classes with you throughout high school. So this opened up and lot of time for you to get to know Yeonjun. He has been a constant presence after all, vying with you for the highest grades in your shared classes. He’s also very blunt and teased you a lot, just out of pure enjoyment to see your reaction. If he couldn’t beat you in academics, he found other ways to torture you.

"Wait you didn't go to prom?" Yeonjun's voice cut through the classroom, drawing the attention of your AP Government class.

You let out a sigh, trying to deflect the conversation. "Can we drop that? We have a project to work on," you said, gesturing towards the thick stack of papers detailing famous court cases.

Yeonjun persisted, his curiosity apparent. "But why didn't you go?" His tone bordered on obnoxious, earning a laugh from Mark, who sat nearby. Mark knew he was enabling his behavior, but didn’t care.

From what you recall, Jimin went to prom with some girl you don’t know. You didn’t have a date, nor close female friends without dates to spend the night at the Grand Strawberry Hill Golf Course. Tickets were $50. You would rather spend the night bussing down tables at the cafe you work out and use that money on something else. The list goes on.

"I just didn't feel like it, okay? Plus, I had work," you replied, hoping to end the discussion.

Yeonjun's response was simple but cutting. "Lame."

You rolled your eyes at Yeonjun's comment, feeling the urge to defend yourself against their teasing. 

Mark chimed in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Come on, Y/N, you missed out on the highlight of senior year!"

"Yeah, Y/N, how could you skip out on the chance to dance the night away with the love of your life?" Yeonjun added, his tone teasing but playful.

You sighed, feeling slightly exasperated. "It's not that big of a deal. Just an expensive dance. Plus I don’t have a ‘love of my life’ anyway." 

You don’t. You’ve crushed on a guy here or there, but no one to actually feel compelled to be with. Wonwoo was cute though, but he transferred schools not long after you two fucked due to the Virginity Race. And no, there’s no correlation between what happened and him transferring.

Sensing that his comment had struck a chord within you, he stopped pressing on. 

“Anyway, so about the case study, should we do the supreme court case where…” Yeonjun sighed loudly, changing the topic to the assignment you had been so keen to work on.

He enjoyed seeing you get flustered, but not upset or sad. It was never his intention. That was because, maybe, somewhere in his little evil Virgo heart, he kind of liked you.

You don’t know when that seed of thought was planted in his mind. Maybe when you two had to do a Romeo and Juliet film project for Honors English class during your freshmen year? Or was it when you two were on the student council during junior year? He was just a side character in your life that would make big appearances here and there, but one thing you know for sure is that him becoming the main character in your life was due to one event. The event that truly kickstarted everything happened a week after this interaction.

The wedding invite.

“You’re inviting me to your brother’s wedding?” You say, dumbfounded.

“Yeah! You’re my friend after all!”

“Seokjin, I am the one who barely knows you out of the 4 of us.” You exclaim, making the other guys laugh.

The sun beats down mercilessly as you all sit outside In-N-Out, trying to seek refuge from the sweltering May heat. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Seokjin are enjoying a brief break from university life, having returned home for the weekend. They wanted to meet up with you and Jimin, who were already drinking milkshakes and scarfing down some animal fries before they arrived and joined you two.

Seokjin's mom had asked for Jin’s help in hand-delivering invitations for his brother's upcoming wedding. The ceremony is slated for the weekend before your and Jimin's high school graduation. She wants it to be huge, so she tells Jin to invite everyone and anyone he knows.

To be completely honest, you don’t know Jin that well. He didn’t even go to the same high school as you. It’s because your best friends’ parents go to the same church, Our Lady of Peace, as his parents. That’s how they all met. And eventually how you ended up meeting him/ There are these other guys in your extended friend group too, but you can’t remember their names right now.

As the conversation veers towards the wedding's details, you lean in with interest. "Where’s it happening at?" you ask, genuinely intrigued.

"Oak Creek Golf Club," 

"There? Wow, I heard that place is fancy!" you remark, a flicker of excitement igniting within you. "Wait, do we have to bring… a plus one to this?" The words stumble out awkwardly, earning you a questionable look from Jimin.

Jin's response is quick and jovial. "A plus one? You mean a date?" he clarifies, amusement coloring his tone.

You nod slowly.

"Yeah, you can bring a date if you want. My mom said the more the merrier! I know Namjoon is bringing Hyungseo—" Jin's words are cut off by Namjoon's interjection, his discomfort evident.

Hyungseo? Oh, must be another one of Joon’s flings, you think.

“Jin…” He warns the older man.

"It's not a secret, plus I'm sure they're bringing dates too, right?" Jin redirects the conversation smoothly, addressing you, Jimin and Yoongi.

Jimin jumps in with a sassy affirmation. "Yeah, of course we are!" he declares, nodding emphatically.

Yoongi's eyes dart to you, gauging your reaction subtly, causing a flutter of nerves in your stomach. With a nod, you confirm your attendance, feeling a surge of relief at joining in the banter.

 "Yeah! And I already have someone too!" you announce, met with a chorus of surprised responses from the three men.

“You do?” The three men question in unison.

You don’t.

You don’t even want to bring a date.

But if they’re bringing dates, then you must bring one or else you’re going to be the biggest loser there!

Plus, you already said you would bring one and if you don’t, you’ll be framed as a liar.

One major thing about this is that: You don’t want to get bombarded by random Korean aunties asking if you have a boyfriend or offering you their son who is in medical or law school to be your husband. You don’t want to get asked why you don’t have one either.

You just don’t. You never had time for it. 

Your parents drilled this into you since day 1 of preschool: Study hard. No boyfriend until college, and well, you followed through with that. Yup. We’re not going to talk about the “Amazing Virginity Race” you took part in last year with your three crazy best friends. You lost your virginity, but still, no boyfriend, right?

All you wanted was to be at the top of your class, and you are on track to be salutatorian right now. Jimin has had the valedictorian spot guaranteed since the first day he started high school, taking high-level classes meant for juniors. 

However, there was one man who poses a threat to your second spot among the top 10 honor students.

Daniel Yeonjun Choi.

Yet again another mention of this guy!

Despite your rivalry, you've formed an unexpected friendship with him, working successfully together on various school projects. There were a few times you would hang out after school with each other.. Well with some other mutual friends too.

Which is why… he is the best… and technically the only option you have.

To bring as a date.

“Daniel!” You call out to him as he walks out of the last period class you had together. He doesn’t turn around, distracted as he converses with Soobin and Mark, his close friends. But you know for a fact this boy can hear you. 

You call out to him repeatedly, but no reaction. You’re annoyed.

So what do you do? Keep following behind him waiting for a perfect moment to snatch his attention fully. You probably look like a creep, but that’s fine. 

You see him bid farewell to his two friends as he heads to his locker to put some books away. Now is your chance,

“Yeonjun!” And finally, he turns around, his eyes widen when you use his Korean name.

“Holy fuck, you caught me off guard with that L/N.” He scolds.

“And you didn’t hear me when I called out to you a thousand times before that?”

“No.” He smiles, which irks you, but you can’t let it be known. He finds this attractive, but you don’t know that yet.  “What did you want?”

“You remember that one time I helped you out by telling you the answer to the Calculus pop quiz and that you said you’d owe me a favor.” You pout your lips out, hoping he takes pity on you and hears you out.

“...Ugh. Can we save that for another day? I got dance practice.”

No, you cannot! Time is ticking. You’re going to have to be blunt.

"No! Look, Choi, I need you to-"

The pleading in the moment sounds very desperate and exasperated which you hope doesn’t–

"Need me? Sounds kinda erotic." The taller boy chuckles, and your face scowls, turning a heavy shade of red.

Dammit, that’s exactly what I didn’t want it to sound like!

"Huh? That’s not…You're gross! As if I would EVER do anything trashy with you!" You cross your arms, feeling impatient. You look away from him, seeing some of the passing students. Jimin’s supposed to meet you near this building and should be here any minute from his last class across campus so you can both go home together. You don’t want to get caught doing this. 

This isn't gonna work at this rate, and you don't have any more time for this. 

"You know what, never mind. I don't even know why I bothered to think of asking you. I should've asked Mark instead." You turn around, deciding to walk away from the situation. Maybe you'll take the L! You'll go to Seokjin's dumb brother's wedding by yourself like the loser you are while everyone else has dates.

"Hey, wait!" Yeonjun pulls your arm toward him, making you turn back around. You are now face to face with each other, which makes you suddenly feel nervous. "Alright. Fine, Princess, I'm listening. What is it?" He looks at you, finally with sincerity in his eyes.

God, I guess if he actually wants to listen now, then you'll say it. What could go wrong?

You tiptoe and lean in close to his ear, catching Yeonjun slightly off guard. "Okay. so I need you to be my fake date to my friend's brother's wedding."

Yeonjun blinks repeated, processing the request. After realizing he was frozen, he immediately goes back to his usual expression and smirks. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone couldn't resist the charm of Choi Yeonjun after all."

You roll your eyes, "Hell no. Please, you can be there looking all pretty, but I'd rather dance with a cactus."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure about that? Cacti can be quite prickly, you know."

You huff, "Just shut up and play along. I need you to act like a decent human being for one evening. You owe me anyways, remember?" 

Yeonjun smirks again, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Decent human being? That's a stretch," he grins, clearly enjoying this. "But sure, why not? It's not every day someone gets to be in the presence of greatness."

You scoff, shaking your head, "Greatness? Please. Just don't embarrass me, okay?"

Yeonjun's grin widens, "No promises, sweetheart. But I'll do my best. After all, I owe you."

"Yeah, yeah. Just be ready to suffer through a night of pretending to like me," you retort with a wry smile.

"Oh, the sacrifices I make for you," he replies, sarcasm dripping from every word.

As you walk away, hoping to meet Jimin halfway you can't help but mutter under your breath, "This is gonna be a disaster."

Yeonjun's laughter follows you from a very short distance after overhearing you, "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."

After Yeonjun agreed, you begin meeting with him regularly over the next two weeks leading up to the wedding. Your primary objective is to shop for outfits suitable for the event and to conduct some "etiquette" training. By "etiquette," you mean coaching him on how to handle questions from the guys or any of Seokjin's family members in a certain manner.

So this gives you guys a lot of time to get to know each other. 

You learn that he prefers to be called Yeonjun, as Daniel just feels like a persona he puts up in school. You learn that he lives with his aunt, uncle, and younger cousin at the Woodbridge Apartment complex. His parents wanted him to grow up in the US, so they left him here in their care and just told him to get through school and come back to Korea when he graduates college. He says that’s one of the main factors that has kept him motivated to keep working hard and getting into a good college. 

He gets to know you too. You tell him you live close to school, with your parents and younger sister for the majority of your life. You tell him about the business program you got into at a college where two of your best friends go. You tell him all your pet peeves, your likes and dislikes. 

And he listens.

“Bought these on my way here.” Yeonjun handed you a white bag, a small smile playing on his lips as he stepped into your house . You accepted it with a curious glance and opened it up, revealing an array of pastries nestled inside.

"Bread?" you asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah," Yeonjun replied. "I remember you mentioning that you were craving Tour Les Jours the other day. So, I got you a custard bun, a blueberry cream cheese bun—"

You interrupted him, incredulous. "Wait, you remembered that? I just blurted it out randomly in the middle of AP Lit a few days ago because I was hungry at the time. You really didn't have to get me anything."

"Nah, it was nothing," Yeonjun said casually, settling down comfortably on your living room couch. "I had gone to drop off Soobin at his house, so it was just a quick stop."

"Well, then, we can snack on it later," you replied with a smile, feeling touched by his thoughtful gesture. “So about the Seokjin’s brother…” 

Things like that made your heart become a bit softer for him after all thus time.

During this time, Jimin was too busy with the girl he is seeing (a dancer, actually) or with dance practice sessions after school. So he didn’t know you were hanging out with Yeonjun instead.

But there were still days throughout the week that you would hang out.

You’re best friends after all.

The scent of freshly baked pastries envelops you as you sit across from Jimin amidst the cozy ambiance of his dad's bakery cafe. Textbooks and notes are spread out between you, but your mind is elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts of the impending conversation.

Jimin glances up from his notes, furrowing his brows as he studies your slightly giddy expression. "Hey, Y/N," he begins tentatively, "Is everything okay? You've been acting kinda weird since that hangout at In-N-Out."

Despite him not knowing what you were doing, he could still feel tha something was different about you.

You feign innocence, offering a casual shrug. "Weird? I don't know what you're talking about, Jimin. I've just been busy with stuff."

But Jimin isn't convinced, his gaze probing as he leans in slightly. "Come on, Darling, I know when something's up. You can tell me."

You maintain your facade of nonchalance, avoiding his penetrating stare. "Honestly, Jimin, there's nothing to tell. Just stressed about exams, that's all!"

"Fine, okay, be that way. But don't think I'll stop trying to figure it out." He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

You offer him a small smile, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I know you won't."

After a moment of silence, Jimin's curiosity continues. "So, about that wedding... Do you really have a date lined up?"

You pause momentarily from writing your final notes on a cheat sheet. "Yeah, I do," you reply casually. "You'll meet him soon."

Jimin's eyes widen with interest, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Oh, really? The Y/N who’s never had a boyfriend before got the courage to ask someone as their wedding date."

You offer him a playful shove, laughing softly. "Maybe the virginity competition last year changed me, but don't get too excited, Jimin. He's just a…friend."

In the back of your mind, you start to wonder otherwise.

Standing outside in your brown UO Samara Mesh Strapless Midi Dress, you nervously glance around, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. Namjoon's absence offers you some  temporary relief from your anxiety about being seen with Yeonjun. He stayed the night at Jin’s, so you’ll see him at the venue.

Suddenly, the sound of an engine draws your attention, and you turn to see Yeonjun's 1998 Red Subaru Impreza pulling up to the curb. It's not the first time you've laid eyes on his car, having been in it several times before when he’d give you a ride to your house or take you to his. But you can't help but admire the vintage charm it exudes every time you see it. It’s just so, Yeonjun.

As Yeonjun's gaze meets yours, he's momentarily struck silent, his eyes roaming over your dress. "Uh, ready for the show...sweetheart?" he finally manages to say.

A giggle escapes your lips as you saunter over to the car. "Oh, you know I was born ready." you tease, flashing him a playful grin as you slide into the passenger seat.

Feeling a rush of excitement and nerves, you hurry to find seats in the pews set up at the outdoor ceremonial venue at the country club, your fingers instinctively reaching out to grasp Yeonjun's wrists for support. As you settle into your chosen spot, you cast a quick glance around and realize that the place is packed to the brim with guests, the air humming with anticipation and excitement.

Your heart skips a beat slightly as you lock eyes with Namjoon across the crowded area. There's a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a swift glance toward the person seated next to you—Yeonjun. His expression remains inscrutable as he studies the two of you, leaving you to wonder what thoughts are running through his mind.

A wave of uncertainty washes over you as Namjoon offers a hesitant wave in your direction. Beside him, Yoongi and Jimin turn to look at you and share a similar surprised, yet confused expression, their eyes briefly meeting yours before Jimin leans in to say something to Yoongi. You strain to catch a glimpse of their conversation, but the distance and the din of the crowd make it impossible to decipher.

A sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you contemplate their reactions, a myriad of questions swirling in your mind. But with the ceremony about to begin, you push aside your apprehensions, focusing instead on Seokjin’s brother at the front with the priest, and his sister-in-law preparing to walk the aisle as the ceremony begins.

As you step into the wedding reception venue at Oak Creek Golf Club, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable introductions. 

“You good, Princess?” Yeonjun says gently, reassuring you from your nerves. You look at him, your eyes softening, “Yeah, just a bit of nerves, but I’m ready to get this over with.”

With Yeonjun by your side, you navigate through the crowd until you join your group of friends sitting at a large round table.

After greeting, you clear your throat nervously and gesture towards Yeonjun. "This is my date," you announce, hoping to break the ice.

Yeonjun stands beside you, momentarily speechless as he takes in the sight of your guy best friends and the other males at the table. Sensing his hesitation, you shoot him a subtle elbow, prompting him to snap out of his daze.

"Ow," he mutters, before regaining his composure and extending a hand towards the others. "Uh, hi, I'm Daniel Choi, but you can call me Yeonjun. Nice to meet you guys," he manages, his tone a blend of nervousness and politeness.

As the guys' inquisitive gazes shift between you and Yeonjun, they waste no time in launching into their interrogation.

Jimin leans in, his eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Y/N, what's going on? How did you end up bringing Yeonjun as your date?" He’s not shying away from the elephant in the room.

Jimin has been familiar with Yeonjun for a long time. They both are dancers, though Jimin does it competitively at school (and won competitions), while Yeonjun is a well-known dancer at your hometown’s community dance studio. Makes sense they would have crossed paths because of dance mutuals after all. Jimin has also he heard you complain about him and his teasing the last couple of years. He never paid him too much attention, until now.

You offer a practiced smile, reciting the rehearsed response you've prepared. "Oh, well, Yeonjun and I have been friends for a while, and when I needed a date for the wedding, he kindly offered to accompany me."

Jimin is immediately smelling that something is fishy. In his mind, he knows that you hate Yeonjun. Well, hate seems to be a strong word. More like, you have differences with one another.

Namjoon furrows his brow, his expression skeptical. "Friends, huh? I’ve never heard you mention him being your friend before. Weren’t you guys rivals?"

Shit. You know Namjoon knew him from being in the student leadership with him during his junior year of high school. He also heard Yeonjun ranting about you getting higher grades than you.

You shrug casually, masking your unease. "Well, you know how it is. Sometimes friendships develop unexpectedly."

Yoongi leans back in his chair, eyeing Yeonjun with a hint of suspicion. "Okay, so Yeonjun, how did you and Y/N become friends so suddenly?"

Yeonjun clears his throat nervously, his eyes darting between the three men and the others at the table overhearing their conversation. "Uh, well, you probably heard we had classes together over the years. And mutual friends," he begins, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "And, uh, we just hit it off, I guess."

Jimin raises an eyebrow, his gaze probing. "That’s funny because last time I recall, we were the only ones who were Y/N’s friends.”

He is right, you’re not really close to anyone else.

But Yeonjun does not know how to respond to that. Though he’s close to saying something sassy right back. But he knows it would be disrespectful, and he doesn’t want to cause any drama. You wouldn’t want him to start something with your best friends either.

There’s a brief pause as the guys absorb the answers Yeonjun spouts out during this interrogative ordeal, exchanging glances with each other. Sensing the tension, you interject quickly. "Okay! Enough with that. So, how about we grab some drinks. It's a celebration, after all!"

With a subtle shift in focus, the conversation veers away from the interrogation, allowing you and Yeonjun a momentary reprieve from their scrutiny.

You link arms with Yeonjun, guiding him towards the bar where champagne floats are being served, eager for a temporary escape from the intense interrogation. You sneakily grab two, worried that someone will say something about two underage teens drinking, but no one notices. You think no one cares. You hand one to Yeonjun, who only takes a sip of it but puts it aside as he remembers he’s driving you home tonight.

As you sip on your drink, you can't help but shake your head in disbelief. "I didn't think they would go off like that... I've never seen them do that," you remark, baffled by their sudden intensity.

Yeonjun glances at you and your drink and chuckles softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, looks like your friends are more protective than I thought. Guess I'll have to watch my back around them," he replies with a sassy smirk, his tone teasing yet lighthearted.

You can't help but laugh at his response, grateful for his ability to add some humor into the tense situation. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve left the moment they started questioning you. It’s not worth the hassle to make up a favor.

As you and Yeonjun return to the table, you finally notice Namjoon and Jimin's dates seated nearby and decide to seize the opportunity to meet them. With a friendly smile, you turn to Namjoon and Jimin, gesturing towards their dates. "Hey, mind introducing me to your lovely companions?" you inquire politely.

Namjoon and Jimin exchange knowing glances before obliging. "Uh yeah of course, Y/N," Namjoon replies, gesturing towards his date, wearing a long beige spaghetti-strapped dress. "This is Hyungseo."

"And this is Shuhua," Jimin adds, indicating his own companion wearing a navy blue satin mini dress.

You offer warm greetings to both Hyungseo and Shuhua, engaging them in conversation as you exchange pleasantries. Though, they both seem to be reluctant to talk to you and ignore your efforts. It leaves you feeling offended. You just met them and they’re being rude already. The guys take note of their behavior, but don’t say anything.

They’re lost causes, you think.

Turning to the rest of the group to continue your socializing, you notice Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jin accompanied by their respective dates. Their dates are fortunately, kinder than the other girls. You make your rounds, introducing yourself to each of them and exchanging friendly banter.

However, you can't help but notice that Yoongi is sitting alone, without a date by his side. Sensing his discomfort, you offer him a smile, silently acknowledging his solitude.

"Hey, Yoongi, couldn't find a date to save your life, huh?" Hoseok teases with a playful grin.

Taehyung chimes in, nudging Yoongi gently. "Come on, man, what happened? Couldn't charm anyone into accompanying you tonight?"

Jungkook adds with a smirk, "Looks like it's just you and the dance floor tonight, hyung."

Even Jin comments on it as he returns to the table after having to go help his mom with something. "Well, well, well, looks like the most eligible bachelor at the table is flying solo tonight."

Despite the teasing, Yoongi takes it all in stride, offering a nonchalant shrug and a smirk of his own. "Hey, I don't need a date to have a good time. Besides, who needs the drama, right?"

Maybe he’s right. Did you really need to be doing all of this just to prove some point? 

You continue your time, eating and conversing with your friends around you. The afternoon sunset changes to a night sky. Despite everyone having fun, drinking and celebrating, a part of you feels guilty for bringing Yeonjun as your “fake date”. You should’ve come by yourself or as Yoongi’s buddy. But you always feel the need to prove something, and feel dumb by the end of it.

The mood in your mind sombers, and you turn to Yeonjun and whisper in his ear. 

"I'm going to step out for a bit. You can stay here."

Yeonjun's concerned gaze meets yours, his brows furrowing in worry. "Hey, hey, something wrong?" he asks softly.

"Just feeling overwhelmed with the partying environment," you reply, attempting to brush off your unease. "Don't worry about—"

But before you can finish, Yeonjun cuts in determinedly. "I'll go with you."

You offer him a grateful smile, touched by his unwavering support, as you both make your way towards the entrance of the outdoor reception area. Finding solace in the quietude outside, you settle onto a bench next to a tree adorned with twinkling lights, the gentle rustle of leaves providing a comforting backdrop to your thoughts.

As you sit together on the bench, the soft glow of the lights casting a serene ambiance around you, you can't shake the feeling of guilt that weighs heavily on your chest. With a sigh, you turn to Yeonjun, your voice tinged with regret.

"Yeonjun, I’m gonna be honest with you. I've been feeling terrible about dragging you into this whole charade as my date," you begin, your words hesitant yet sincere.

Yeonjun's gaze softens, his expression filled with understanding. "It's okay. You don't need to apologize," he reassures you gently.

But you shake your head, a pang of guilt twisting in your stomach. "No, you don't understand. I feel like I've wasted your time, made you endure all of this just to satisfy some silly notion of mine," you confess, your voice laced with self-reproach.

Yeonjun reaches out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, listen to me. You didn't waste my time. I chose to be here and all those hang out sessions because I wanted to help you. I wanted to be by your side," he says earnestly.

You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of gratitude and warmth wash over you at his words. "But you shouldn't have had to endure all of this just for my sake," you protest softly.

Yeonjun smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Sometimes, we do things for the people we care about, even if it means stepping out of our comfort zone. And honestly, being here with you, even in this weird setup, has been worth it," he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

Touched by his unwavering support and understanding, you feel a lump form in your throat. "Thank you, Yeonjun. I really appreciate everything you've done for me," you say, your voice choked with emotion.

Yeonjun gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "Anytime, Y/N. Remember, I'm here for you, no matter what," he says softly.

In the serene ambiance of the evening, with the soft glow of lights casting a mesmerizing spell, Yeonjun shifts nervously beside you, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he finally gathers the courage to speak up.

"You know Y/N, there's something I've been thinking about lately," he begins, his voice laced with a hint of shyness yet buoyed by his characteristic sassiness. "We’ve been hanging out a lot lately, and I honestly feel like it’s changed a lot about how we behave around each other.”

Your curiosity piqued, you turn to him, prompting him to continue.

"What do you mean?" you inquire, your voice filled with genuine interest.

Yeonjun hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he continues, his words tinged with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"I know I did this as a favor, but I liked hanging out with you a lot," he confesses, his tone sincere. "Getting to know you. Seeing you more often."

A warmth spreads through your chest at his admission, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his.

"Well I... I feel the same way," you admit softly, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. "Spending time with you has been... different. In a good way."

For a moment, silence envelops you both, the tranquility of the night amplifying your heart beating fast. You find yourself lost in thought. What would happen if you started to like Yeonjun? Would it even be possible to be together? You feel crazy for thinking this. Your freshmen year self would kill you for having this thought.

Maybe this is all just in your head. It’s too late to start something just as you’re about to graduate high school and go your separate ways.

But before you can gather your thoughts, Yeonjun's voice breaks the silence, his tone laced with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings.

"I don't want this to end, Y/N," he confesses, his words tinged with sincerity. "I don't want to go back to how things were before. I actually think I’ve fallen in love with you."

What?

He also had similar thoughts as you?

You can't believe this. This is insane. I mean, you knew you were getting closer, but you never thought... you never thought he'd feel the same way. 

This is like something straight out of a movie. A rivals to lovers fic from Wattpad. Your mind is going a million miles an hour right now. What do you do now? It's like the whole world just shifted beneath your feet. 

But when you look into Yeonjun's eyes, you can see the sincerity there. It's kind of overwhelming. This was definitely not part of the plan when you set out to do this. I mean, how do you even deal with something like this? You’ve never dated anyone. But at the same time, there's a part of you that's curious, that's intrigued by the possibility of trying it. You’re 18 now, you studied hard and deserve to be in love.

This could change things for you.

But it’s not something you ever expected to happen in your life. Especially with Yeonjun.

As you grapple with the emotions swirling within you, you find yourself hesitantly voicing your doubts to Yeonjun.

"Yeonjun…I feel the same way but it just feels like... like it's too late." you murmur, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "If this happened way before graduation, things would’ve easier, but we’re just about to start college–"

But before you can continue, Yeonjun reaches out, gently taking your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with a steadfast determination. "I understand that things are different now, but I'm willing to try. I still have the rest of summer with you, and our colleges are somewhat close to each other. We can make it work."

His words wash over you like a soothing balm, calming the storm of uncertainty raging within your mind. Despite your fears and reservations, there's a part of you that's drawn to the possibility of exploring this newfound thing with Yeonjun, and stepping into something completely new in your life. A relationship.

As you gaze into his eyes, you realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this unexpected turn of events could be the beginning of something beautiful. Before you can dwell further on this realization, Yeonjun leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. At first, it's gentle, tentative, as if both of you are testing the waters. But soon, the kiss deepens, passion igniting between you as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Time seems to stand still as you both surrender to the intoxicating sensation of each other's touch. But eventually, you both mutually let go, the need for air becoming too urgent to ignore. With a shared understanding, Yeonjun suggests getting out of there, and you readily agree.

Taking control, Yeonjun grasps your hand firmly in his, leading the way as you rush away to his parked car. As you hurry along, you can't help but glance back at the entrance. You didn’t get to say bye to the guys and the bride and groom. But when you catch a glimpse of Namjoon and Yoongi witnessing your hasty departure with Yeonjun, your heart drops.

Oh shit.

Despite your immediate worries of your two best friends seeing all of that, you push it away once you arrive to Yeonjun’s apartment. 

The darkness envelops you as you step inside, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your breathing. Yeonjun explains that his cousin, aunt, and uncle are out of town for the weekend, leaving the apartment empty for the first time ever.

You can't help but tease him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Did you plan this, Yeonjun?" you quip, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Yeonjun responds with a smirk of his own, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Well, Y/N, I’m not supposed to kiss and tell," he retorts in a sassy tone, his playful banter sending a shiver down your spine.

With a coy smile, he takes your hand and leads you to his room, the tension between you palpable. He takes off his tuxedo jacket, placing it on his chair. As he pushes you gently onto the bed and gets on top of you, the rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, mingling with the electrifying sensation of his touch.

In that moment, as you lie together in the dimly lit room, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you lost in the intoxicating embrace of the night. You realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Are you sure about this though?” he asks you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips which are soon moving down to your jaw and neck. “If you don’t feel the same, we can end this. I’ll take you home sweetheart.” He leans into your ear.

You can’t hold back the whimper from the sensation his whispers give you. His hands pushes your dress out of the way, bunching around your waist and his long fingers dig into the skin of your ass.

“I think I made it clear I want this just as much as you,” you whisper back, pushing your hands under his collared shirt. You can’t help but marvel at the abs he has hidden under, muscles flexing beneath your palms. Yeonjun takes this time to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, fully revealing his torso to you.

Fuck, you’ve only seen this in his swim meet photos from last year, but never in person, and especially not like this.

“I want to see you naked too,” He grins pulling his hands away from your ass for a minute, pulling the zipper of the dress down and carefully sliding the strapless garment off you. You can’t suppress the shiver as the cooling air hits your heated skin, you feel like you’re blushing all over knowing he’s looking at you again.

“No bra? Fuck, you’re crazy,” Yeonjun groans dropping his face to your heaving chest, dragging his teeth and tongue over the swell of your breasts.

You grip the back of his head, fingers digging into his black hair as your other hand pushes between the two of you slightly awkwardly, popping the button of his slacks and tugging down his zipper. Pulling your hands away gently, Yeonjun moves down your body. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask breathlessly, trying to pull him back up but he shakes his head, a beautiful but dangerous smirk tugging at his lips.

Hooking his fingers in the sides of your black lace thong, he tugs them down your legs and removes them. You watch with wide eyes as he tucks them in his back pocket.

“Uh?! Y-Yeonjun?” 

“Call it a thank you for tonight. I survived your friends sending me daggers through the whole day, after all.” He winks up at you as he starts kissing and nipping his way up your inner thighs.

“H-Hey they so didn’t do that! G-Give them back to me or–” Your threat dies in your throat as Yeonjun pulls your leg over one of his shoulders. You can’t take your eyes off of him, his darkened eyes look up at you. It’s a lie if you say you never once thought about this sight. It was a nightmare for you at some point, but now, it’s reality. A good reality.

Yeonjun groans into you as his thick tongue drags through your wet folds, moving from your entrance to your throbbing clit and back again. Your body squirms as you grab his hair, feeling yourself sinking further and further into his bed as you roll your hips down into his face. Yeonjun growls as he sucks your clit between his plump lips. With one arm across your waist holding you still, the other moves between your leg. His two long fingers pushes into you, causing your back to arch, in an attempt to get closer to him.

In this moonlight shining through his room, his arms looked bigger than you remembered. Despite his tall and lanky-looking body, he’s definitely stronger than you previously thought. 

“F-Fuck Junnie!” you cry out, saying a new nickname for him in the process. The feeling is so intense as he starts thrusting his fingers into you, switching between scissoring and curling them against that sweet spot inside making your thighs shake.

Yeonjun groans once again as he feels your pussy starting to tighten around his fingers. He continues with faster movements, his tongue starting to flick back and forth over your sensitive bundle of nerves still trapped between his pouty lips.

Pulling away briefly, his tongue runs around his fingers pumping in and out of you. Your mind is beginning to get hazy. You’re so close, that you can feel the edge approaching.

“Tastes better than honey,” he groans low in his chest before sealing his lips back around your clit with renewed vigor, his tongue moving in time with his fingers.

“H-How the fuck are you so g-good at this?” You whimper as his fingers start digging into your hip, “So close, gonna c-come…. f-fuck!” You cry out as you feel the band holding your sanity together inside you snap, your pussy spasming around Yeonjun’s fingers as he works you through your orgasm. He moans around your clit, pushing vibrations through your body as you cling to his hair for dear life.

When you finally feel your body calm down, Yeonjun gently removes his fingers. He looks up at you with a smug look on his face. He’s teasing you. God, you can’t believe he just pulled an orgasm out of you. What the fuck. 

Also, why does he know how to do this so well? How many girls has he been with? 

“I can’t believe you’re teasing me because you made me cum,” You roll your eyes at him.

He climbs up your body once again and pulls you into a rough, but chaste kiss. It feels gross at first, but somehow intoxicating. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, yet it turns you on more than you thought it would.

“You ain’t seen anything yet, Princess,”

“Oh is that right? Show me what you’ve got then,” you smirk as your hand trails down his body, meeting his eyes when your hand pushes into his boxers. Yeonjun softly groans when your small hand wraps around his thick aching cock, tugging down his slacks and boxers until they’re around his knees. You start to pump his cock in your hand, loving the way his breathing picks up as his hands hold onto your hips. You feel so much power from doing this.

He leans over quickly to grab a condom from his bedside table and starts sliding it on until it fully encapsulates his dick.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun asks through a moan as you pull him closer, hooking your leg over his hip. His thick cock brushes through your slick pussy, and with every roll of his hips, the tip of his cock nudges your clit.

“Yes please just do it already,” You say urgently, which makes him chuckle. His hand wraps around his cock as he eases inside of you very slowly. His other hands roughly grabs your ass as you cry out against his lips.

“Holy shit, Yeonjun…Fuck”

“God, you’re tight, can’t wait to fuckin’ ruin you,” He groans when your pussy clenches around him. He can’t take it anymore, you practically scream his name as he snaps his hips forward, neighbors be damned. Both of you cling to each other as he waits for you to adjust to his size. His lips press to your ear, his breathing ragged as he speaks. 

“You’re only gonna want me now, sweetheart and I’ll make sure of it.”

Your nails drag down his back creating angry red lines against his soft skin. You nod your head slightly foggy, filled with just Yeonjun. 

“Do it! Please, move. I’m yours,” you breathe against his lips, your sweaty forehead up against his.

“Love the sound of you being so eager, ” Yeonjun grunts as he thrusts his hips up roughly, causing you to cry out into his open mouth. His hands feel like they’re everywhere as his hips start thrusting up into you wildly, the snap of his hips slapping loudly against your skin. You can feel every inch of his cock, as his lips tongue and teeth explore your neck, sucking dark purple marks into your skin. Cupping your breasts roughly, his plump lips seal around a hardened nipple. His warm mouth feels so amazing against you while you feel your pussy clamping down around his cock for the first time. 

You haven’t had sex since you lost your virginity to Wonwoo, and this being your second time feels so amazing.

“Hold it,” Yeonjun grunts pulling you back from the brink of cumming. You stare at him with your lustful bedroom eyes and mouth dropping open as he fucks into you harder than before.

“I-I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I’m gonna pull out in a minute and I wanna see you bounce on my cock.” The way he growls those words against your neck makes you whine, desperate for release you know you’re not allowed. Fuck, the horny and desperate hormones are taking over the both of you.

Yeonjun pulls out after another hard thrust that makes your legs weak, stumbling away from you. He grins like a cheshire cat when you glare at him. Laying down awkwardly next to you, he starts pumping his cock in his hand as he watches you crawl towards him. Your back aches and stings, much like the rest of your body in the best way, but all you can focus on is Yeonjun.

To his surprise you turn your back to him, getting to your knees and straddle his hips and thighs. With your hands resting on his thick thighs, you lean your ass back, moaning as he teases the tip of his cock against your entrance. It slips inside you with not much difficulty and you can’t help but push back into him. You slowly lower yourself, letting your tight wet heat envelope him, until your ass is pressed against his groin and lower stomach.

“D-Didn’t know you have a thing for my ass,” You tease.

Yeonjun growls low in his throat, squeezing your ass roughly as you lift almost off his cock before dropping back down. 

“Not such a good girl after all are you?” He questions roughly as you start a steady rhythm of rising and falling on his cock, nails digging into his thighs.

You pause to roll your hips over him, loving the way your clit rubs against him.

 “N-No, it was a persona for me too,” you cry out as he slaps your ass hard, quickly followed by another harsh slap to your other cheek.

“Y/N, you’re so hot,” Yeonjun groans as you start bouncing again. He feels your pussy beginning to clench again as your slick leaks down his shaft and balls. You hold on when you start to feel him bucking his hips up into you. “Don’t stop, let go Princess,” Yeonjun says roughly catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

Pushing a hand between your legs, you rub harsh circles into your clit. Your throat is hoarse from shouting out his name. Your eyes squeeze tightly shut as Yeonjun thrusts up hard, and you cry out as you come, clinging to him wherever you can.

You’ve barely come down from your euphoric high when Yeonjun eases you up, a rough bruising grip on your hips. He takes control guiding you up and down his length until he finally comes with a moaning whimper of your name falling from his lips.

You're panting hard when Yeonjun finally pulls out slowly, helping you lay down next to him gently.

“Fuck, I love you” Yeonjun whispers aggressively as he goes in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you. It takes a while for those words to sink in because you’re still in disbelief. When he pulls away he’s surprised to find you frowning.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly, his fingers brushing over the slowly forming bruises on your body. “Was I too rough,” he swallows hard, meeting your eyes. You shake your head.

“You mean you love me as a friend right?” you question nervously, just wanting to confirm that he actually isn’t playing with your heart.

You heard rumors that he kinda does this thing with a select few girls for fun. So you want to make sure if he is actually on the same wavelength as you.

“That’s what’s wrong?” He asks with a smile shaking his head and kissing you again. He grabs a blanket to cover your body with for warmth. 

You nod looking down at your fingers which are now linked with his.

“If it bothers you, Y/N, then yeah I can pretend I meant as friends but no. I meant it when I said I fell in love with you. I wish we could’ve done this sooner, but at least I didn’t wait any longer,” he chuckles, the blush on his cheeks brightening the more he speaks. “But it’s totally fine if you wanna chalk this up to–” You cover his mouth with your hand shaking your head.

You pull his lips to yours with tears in your eyes, feeling him smile into the kiss as a sigh of relief leaves his chest. “I’ve start to fall in love with you too,  if it wasn’t obvious the last couple of weeks we started talking more. I was so used to you being a flirty nerd, but this was very unexpected. I’m still speechless,” you giggle watching the smirk slip onto his plump lips.

“Funny how you said you’re never do anything trashy with me and look at us now,” he promises you as he gets up to discard the used up condom in the trash bin next to his bed.

You roll your eyes at him, “Shut up! Things change!”

They really do.

The next morning, Yeonjun drops you off at your home. Well, he drops you off at the street corner so you wouldn’t appear too suspicious. 

“I know you gotta study for finals this week before graduation on Saturday, so I won’t bother you. But text me if you need me.” 

You nod, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you look at Yeonjun. "Thanks, Yeonjun. I appreciate it," you say softly, your heart feeling lighter knowing he's there for you now as someone more than a rival, more than a friend.

Yeonjun returns your smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "Anytime, Y/N. I'll be waiting for your call," he replies, his voice tinged with sincerity.

As you step out of the car and onto the sidewalk, you turn back to wave at Yeonjun, watching as he drives away. 

When enter your house, your very nosey mother folding laundry in the living room asks you about the wedding and where you stayed the night, you tell her you stayed with Kyeongmin, Namjoon’s younger sister. Before she can ask you anything else, you tell her you’re going to rest up and study for your finals in your room.

Once safely in your room, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful to have dodged your mother's interrogation. But as you glance at your phone, you see messages from Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin, all undoubtedly asking about last night's events.

Shit. It seems like you have some explaining to do.

You open Namjoon's message, feeling a pang of guilt as you read his words. 

Namjoonie [Saturday 12:01AM]: Hey, tiny! Sorry about making you uncomfortable by interrogating you and Yeonjun. Are you really dating him?

You take a deep breath before composing your response. 

You [Sunday 8:11AM]: “Hey, Joon! Yeah… I'm with Yeonjun…

You [Sunday 8:12AM]: It’s a long story. Let’s talk more after finals and grad are done? You’re going on Saturday, right?

You weren’t expecting him to be up at this hour, but when he responds not long after you send your text out, you wonder what happened after he left.

Namjoon [Sunday 8:12AM]: Wouldn’t miss it for the world :)

Namjoon has always been overprotective over you, but surprisingly, he’s being patient right now. Maybe the year in college has changed him. A part of you kinda hoped he’d react differently.

You responded to the rest of the guys similarly, and also receive responses that oddly disappoint you a bit.

June 3rd, 20XX [Saturday]

Finals week goes by in a flash. You pass all your finals with flying colors, and before you know it, it's Saturday morning. The graduation ceremony is at 4PM, but you're at the school gym at the crack ass of dawn to practice sitting in assigned seats and walking for the ceremony at the football field later.  With your status as Salutatorian, you end up getting placed in the very front, along with Jimin who is the Valedictorian and Yeonjun who sits in the 3rd spot.  The rest of the spots are filled by Daisy, Mark, Soobin, Denise, Stephan, Felix, and Kevin.

"It's really happening," you say out loud to no one in particular, but Jimin and Yeonjun look at you.

Jimin offers you a reassuring smile. "Yeah, it is. Can you believe it?"

Yeonjun chimes in, his usual playful smirk adorning his lips. "Well, I mean, look at us, top of the class and all."

Jimin eyes him suspiciously. It’s unlike Yeonjun to just butt into a conversation with you and Jimin like that. You’re afraid Jimin’s going to pounce on him, especially after likely hearing about what you two did at the wedding from your other best friends.

You chuckle nervously, attempting to redirect Jimin’s focus from him. "Well I barely secured this spot. Thank God you got an A- in AP Calculus,"

Jimin laughs a little too hard at your comment, and Yeonjun rolls his eyes playfully. "Hey, we’re all going to college and that’s what matters," he says, flashing a grin. 

You nod, feeling a sense of camaraderie with your friends. "Yeah, we are."

As the morning progresses, you go through the motions of the graduation rehearsal, listening to the instructions from the faculty and practicing your entrance and exit. After an hour and thirty minutes of practicing, you’re all free to head home and get ready.

"I'll give you a ride," Yeonjun suggests to you casually, however Jimin suddenly grabs your wrist.

"Nope, I'm taking her!" Jimin chimes in. "See ya!"

"H-Hey! Wait!" You protest, but Jimin drags you away to his used black porsche parked in the student parking lot.

You stumble slightly as Jimin pulls you along, caught off guard by his sudden decision. "Jimin, what's going on?" you ask, trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Nothing.” He groans, “Just want to take you to my place to get ready with me for graduation. We'll drop by your house to get your stuff."

You're taken aback by Jimin's sudden assertiveness but decide to go along with it, intrigued by what he has planned. "Uhh right! Sounds good?" you reply, trying to keep up with his energetic pace.

Jimin unlocks his car, and you slide into the passenger seat beside him. The engine roars to life, and you two exit campus, leaving Yeonjun there as he left with a puzzled expression. What Jimin did would be considered war against Yeonjun. But yet again, you didn’t realize this at the time.

The sun beats down on the football field, casting a warm glow over the sea of graduates seated in neat rows. As you sit among your classmates, adorned in your purple cap and gown, you can't help but feel a surge of nerves coursing through you. The anticipation builds as you anxiously await your turn to present your short speech as the Salutatorian of your class.

The field is alive with the buzz of excitement and anticipation, friends and family members filling the stands to witness this momentous occasion. The scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the faint aroma of flowers carried on the breeze, creating an atmosphere of celebration and achievement.

Your eyes scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces among the sea of spectators. You catch sight of your parents and sister sitting in the middle row, and then see Yoongi, Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook and Taehyung sitting right in front of them, holding flowers and balloons. Their proud smiles warming your heart and easing some of your nerves.

Suddenly, your attention is drawn to the stage where Jimin stands, delivering his graduation speech with eloquence and passion. His words resonate with the audience, his voice carrying across the field as he imparts words of wisdom and reflection on the journey ahead.

As Jimin concludes his speech to thunderous applause, you feel a mixture of pride and apprehension. It's your turn now, and you rise to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way to the podium.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. You don’t remember what you said, but you did deliver your speech with poise and confidence, sharing words of gratitude and inspiration with your fellow graduates. And it was well received, so that’s all that matters.

As the ceremony draws to a close and the last diploma is handed out, the graduates are instructed to move their tassels from the right side of their caps to the left—a symbolic gesture marking their transition from students to graduates.

With a collective movement, the sea of caps is adorned with a new arrangement of tassels, signifying the culmination of years of hard work and dedication. The air is filled with the sound of cheers and applause from family and friends, along with the joyful noise of celebratory horns and whistles.

As your eyes scan the crowd, you spot your guy best friends rushing to the field to meet you and Jimin. With wide grins plastered across their faces, they weave through the throngs of people, their excitement palpable in the air.

Yoongi is the first to reach you in a rush, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "Well, well, look who's finally a high school graduate," he teases, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

Namjoon follows closely behind, his eyes sparkling with pride. "Congrats you two! You actually made it!" he exclaims, enveloping you and Jimin in a tight hug.

“With honors, too. You two are insane. Congrats you nerds!” Jin teased. “It’s called being competitive! And of course we were gonna graduate. We may have been gaming at times, but we still did our shit.” Jimin exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

Hoseok jumps in with his signature peppiness, practically bouncing on his toes. "Hey, I believed y’all could do it! Now, let's party!" he cheers, his enthusiasm infectious.

Taehyung joins the group with a mischievous grin, already planning the festivities. "Hey, hey, Jungkook and I’s high school graduation isn’t until 7 PM. We can't party yet," he interjects, his eyes still twinkling with anticipation despite the delay.

You smile at Taehyung's words, nodding in agreement. "Don’t worry. Jimin and I will definitely swing by your graduation and then we’ll party," you assure him, feeling the excitement building up again. The group chuckles, the prospect of double celebrations lifting their spirits even more.

As you bask in the joyous atmosphere, a pang of sadness washes over you as you remember Yeonjun. You quickly turn around to scan the crowd for him, but he's nowhere to be seen. Before you can dwell on it further, you're called out by your parents and surrounded by friends and teachers eager to congratulate you and bid you farewell. The momentary worry about Yeonjun is pushed aside as you immerse yourself in the festivities.

June 4th, 20XX [Sunday]

Despite the fact that you couldn't see him after the ceremony, Yeonjun shows up at your house the next morning. 

Your mom and sister are heavily caught off guard when they open the door because they've never seen him in their lives. Your sister rushes up stairs to wakes you from your slumber.

“Y/N! You need to go downstairs because there’s a pretty boy outside waiting for you with flowers!” She yells at you while removing your blankets.

You groggily rub your eyes as your sister's words register in your mind. "A pretty boy with flowers?" you mumble, still half asleep. For some reason, the thought of it being Yeonjun doesn’t click in your head. The first guy that comes to mind is Namjoon, but that wouldn’t make sense.

"Yeah, I've never seen him before," your sister replies with a curious expression. "He's, like, really handsome."

The fact that she’s never seen him before tells you otherwise.

Curiosity piqued, you quickly throw on a hoodie over your pajamas and rush downstairs to see who could possibly be waiting for you at your doorstep. As you descend the stairs, you hear the muffled voices of your mom and sister conversing with someone.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you freeze in surprise at the sight of Yeonjun standing in your foyer, holding a bouquet of flowers. Your mom and sister look equally bewildered by his presence.

"Yeonjun?" you exclaim, blinking in disbelief.

"Hey," Yeonjun greets you with a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. "I, uh, hope it's okay that I came over. I wanted to see you."

Your mom and sister exchange incredulous glances before your sister nudges you playfully. "Go on, Y/N, talk to your mysterious visitor," she whispers with a mischievous grin.

You shoot her a grateful, yet awkward smile before turning back to Yeonjun. "Yeah, of course it's okay. I'm just... surprised to see you here."

Yeonjun scratches the back of his neck nervously, his expression sheepish. "Yeah, uh, I wanted to apologize for disappearing after graduation. I got caught up with my friends and family… and I felt bad for not seeing you, so I wanted to make it up to you by taking you out for breakfast."

You raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised by his sudden appearance but also relieved. "Really? Well, I could definitely go for some breakfast right now," you say with a smile, feeling the tension ease between you.

"Get changed and we'll grab pancakes from Stacks. My treat," Yeonjun suggests with a grin.

Your eyes light up with excitement. "Bet! Just give me a sec to get ready," you reply, dashing upstairs to freshen up and swap your pajamas for a band t-shirt tucked into your med-wash jeans before heading out for breakfast.

You spent the morning talking with Yeonjun and eating breakfast before he took you back home. You talked to him about things you want to do over the summer with you and things of that sort. It felt so weird to finally be in a relationship. You didn’t think it would happen, let alone with someone you used to call your rival. He wanted to spend more time with you, but you told him you had to meet with Jimin to help Yoongi and Namjoon pack up and move out for the summer.

You also told him that you were going to let them know about your relationship with him, which he was fine with.

Jimin came to pick you up not long after and he drove to their college, which would soon become the same place you’ll be going to 2.5 months from now. 

“Congrats on whatever you and Yeonjun have.” Jimin said once you got in the car.

“Did Namjoon and Yoongi tell you?”

“Briefly, but there’s a few little birds in the dance community saying that Yeonjun was talking about you. Obviously don’t know all the details so you better tell me.” He eyes you for a second before looking back on the road.

“Obviously, you’re my best friend after all.” You say, and then proceed to tell him how this all started, where you are now, your fears, your excitement.

Jimin only nodded in response and smiled at your enthusiasm. But his smile hid a bit of sadness behind it. Though yet again, you didn’t realize the full extent about that at this time.

When you both arrived at the campus, You noticed Namjoon and Yoongi were already waiting for you outside of the dorm building with a good chunk of their stuff, cardboard boxes piled up as tall as them. Though, you think that there’s still more of it inside their dorm. Jimin parked the car in the dorm parking lot and got out to start loading the boxes in his car.

“Seokjin’s going to use his dad’s truck to help us pack some of the stuff that won’t fit in Jimin’s car. We’re waiting for him too.” Namjoon commented as he walked toward your window and leaned against it.

“Good to know! I was telling him earlier that most of this shit won’t fit in his small ass sports car.” You joked, which made Namjoon chuckle at your jab towards Jimin.

There was a pregnant pause after when you realized you hadn’t really talked this casually with Namjoon since the wedding. From the look in his eyes you realize that he also immediately had this thought as well.

You had talked to him last night at your graduation, but it was mainly celebratory exchanges and nothing directly related to your personal circumstances outside of that. He remained mostly around Hoseok’s side last night at the group grad party as he taught Namjoon about djaying.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” You begin as you break the silence, opening the car door to get out and shake your legs from the discomfort of sitting down for an hour. “Things happened pretty suddenly and quickly. There wasn’t really much time to bring it up—”

“It’s okay, Tiny.” Namjoon cut you off, knowing you were about to go on an apology tangent. He knows you do that whenever you feel really bad about something. “We’re all grown up. We’re bound to get into relationships. So don’t worry about it,” Namjoon smiled, however, his seemed more genuine than Jimins’. You’re not sure what this means… You expected more push and pull from him, but he’s being more understanding than you anticipated.

Yoongi tells the both of you to come inside the building so you can help him bring the last of the boxes out of their dorm. When you get to their room, Namjoon continues his thoughts.

“As long as Yeonjun doesn’t break your heart. I’m cool with him, I guess.” He carefully words out, seemingly trying to convince himself about that last sentence.

Yoongi catches chase of what Namjoon is talking about and nods, “I agree with that. If you’re happy, then we’re happy. It’s important to support each other. We’re best friends after all.”

“Right, but you better not leave us behind or start ignoring us for your boyfriend, alright?” Namjoon boops your nose with his index finger before hoisting up 3 big boxes in his arm, making you flustered. Looking at his arm strength has made you question if he’s gotten more buff recently.

“Obviously. You’re my best friends! No matter what, I’d never be an ass to you guys just because I have a boyfriend.” you spoke so matter-of-factly to them, like even the thought of you betraying them was pure blasphemy. You wouldn’t do that to them. You’ve known them for years, and have shed blood, sweat, and tears together. “You’re always one of my top priorities.”

There was a glow on their faces from simply hearing those words from you. You didn’t know the implications of that change of complexion. You were just being honest.

But you didn’t have any idea how much these words would haunt you later on.

The first month or so of dating Yeonjun has felt like a dream. 

A long awaited dream that you’ve had for so long. After graduating, you didn’t have much to do for the next three months you’re still in town. During the summer, you’d usually work a seasonal shift at a cafe near your local community college, but they were cutting costs and hiring less staff than usual. Jimin’s dad offered you a job at his bakery instead, which you decided to take, much to Jimin’s dismay. You assumed it’s because he didn’t want his dad to work you to the bone, which you didn’t mind. You wanted to have some extra cash to pay for college, as well as your outings with Yeonjun.

Yeonjun didn’t seem opposed to it either. Well, that’s what you thought at the time. Right before your shifts ended, Yeonjun would come by, get an injeolmi toast or an Iced Americano and then pick you up from work when your shift ended. It was a little embarrassing that Mr. Park would see him come by often. He’d even start to question you about the boy. At some point, he began conversations with him, asking him if he’s Korean, what school does he go to, what his parents do, etc. Jimin’s dad found him interesting, and would tease Jimin to “be more like Yeonjun”.

“Be more like Yeonjun?” Jimin scoffed, but didn’t continue his thought after looking at you and then looking away to continue with his task.

After he’d pick you up, you’d go on dates. Sometimes, you’d have a picnic at the lake or walk around the mall and talk about work, your parents, and your best friends with him. Other times, you’d come over to his apartment and help his aunt and cousin make mandu. When you were lucky, the apartment would be empty and you’d take the time to have sex with Yeonjun in his room.

Once, you tried to do the same thing and invite him to your place for sex. Your parents and sister had gone 2 cities over to shop at a bigger mall, so you didn’t miss the chance to text Yeonjun to come over. You were nervous the whole time, fearing that your parents could come home sooner than expected or sometimes even worse, Namjoon or his family would notice that Yeonjun came over. But your horny self pushed those thoughts away and let it happen.

Losing your sanity slowly for this man. But other thoughts remained on the back of your mind. 

July 4th, 20XX [Tuesday]

The afternoon sun was already high, casting a warm glow over the town as you called up Yeonjun to see if he wanted to join you at Hoseok's barbecue pool party. He had invited you and your best friends a last week, but you wanted your boyfriend to come along as well. It would help him get more familiar with your friend group and maybe your friends.

Yeonjun said he’s be down and confirmed that he would drive. Namjoon and Yoongi texted you not long after your call ended asking if they could get a ride from you since they were planning to drink at the party. Out of habit, you agreed, but then realized you fucked up.

When Yeonjun’s car pulled up to your front curb, there was a brief moment of reluctance as he saw Namjoon and Yoongi waiting with you. "Hey…didn't know we'd have a full car," Yeonjun said, trying to keep his tone light.

"I’m so sorry about that," you replied, sensing a bit of tension. "But they need a ride! And we’re going to the same place so it'll be fun!"

Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged glances, also hesitant but willing to go along. "As long as we get there," Yoongi muttered, sliding into the back seat, followed by a silent Namjoon.

You climbed into the passenger seat, buckling in while feeling the weight of the unspoken tension in the car. Yeonjun's usual playful demeanor was slightly subdued as he started driving, and the ride to Hoseok's house was filled with polite conversation and forced laughter, rather than the easy banter you were used to. You wore a black bikini, but covered it up with an orange Hawaiian shirt and short shorts. Despite the cover-up, your cleavage was noticeable, and you couldn't help but feel the eyes of Yeonjun, Namjoon, and Yoongi lingering on you throughout the ride when you’d turn to talk to them.

Upon arriving, Hoseok's backyard was already buzzing with commotion. The smell of grilled meats and the sound of upbeat music filled the air. Hoseok, busy DJ-ing, was nodding to the beat of the music ashis hands deftly adjusted the controls. His parents and sister were in Korea for the month, so he had the house to himself, which meant the party was full of his college friends and alcohol, adding to the lively atmosphere.

Jungkook was the first to greet you, his smile wide and welcoming. "Hey! You’re here!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Of course! Would never miss Hoseok’s party!” you replied, feeling the party’s energy start to lift your spirits.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin soon followed, each offering their own warm greetings. “Looking good,” Taehyung said, eyeing your outfit with a grin.

"You’re playing with fire Tae, but thanks," you replied, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you noticed him and the others sneaking glances at your attire.

Jimin laughed, clapping Yeonjun on the back. "Nice of you to bring our girl here safely."

"Our–?” Yeonjun said out loud without realizing, before he corrected himself. “Uh well, yeah, anything for her," Yeonjun said, his tone sounded off, but you didn’t try to think much of it.

The backyard was a lively scene, reminiscent of a typical college Fourth of July party. Brightly colored pool floats bobbed on the surface of the pool, people splashing and playing in the water. Tables were laden with a variety of foods: burgers, hot dogs, assorted fruits, and bowls of chips. Red, white, and blue decorations were everywhere, from streamers hanging from the porch to patriotic-themed tablecloths. Jungkook said he and Taehyung did most of the decor work.

People milled about, chatting, laughing, and dancing to the music Hoseok was mixing. Solo cups filled with various drinks were scattered around, and a beer pong table was set up near the garage, already attracting a competitive crowd.

"Grab a plate, y’all!" Taehyung called, waving you over to the food table.

As you approached, you noticed Yoongi and Namjoon heading straight for the grill, where Jin had gone back to. They started joking around with Jin, who was manning the grill, and soon the three of them were engaged in a playful banter about how Jin is so dad-like at times. Jin offered them some cold beers and they cracked them open.

Meanwhile, you filled your plate with a burger and some snacks and found a spot under a large umbrella with Yeonjun. He sat close enough that your knees touched under the table, and you could feel his gaze linger on you from time to time, sending shivers down your spine despite the warm summer air.

Sometimes, you wondered how Yeonjun felt being brought into this whole new world of yours. You were used to him hanging out with Soobin and Mark, and some of his other boys you realize you hadn’t met. And girls too. People from his dance community. You would like him to become friends with your friends, but does he feel uncomfortable here? You honestly don’t know deeply of his dating history to gauge how things must’ve been in the past for him. You turned to look at him, typing away on his phone.

“How are you liking the party?” You ask him, words leaving your mouth slowly. “It’s great.” He says simply, which makes you internally sigh in relief. “You truly have an interesting friend group, Princess.” He chuckles as he observes your friends playing an intense game of ninja across you two.

“I’m honestly not sure how I got stuck with these eggheads, but at least it’s been getting me out of the house and doing something for the last couple of years.” You respond, looking at the guys back.

The party continued to ramp up, with more people showing up, some familiar faces, as the day went on. Music filled the air, laughter was everywhere, and the smell of delicious food wafted through the yard. Hoseok, in his element, kept the energy high with his DJ skills, creating a festive atmosphere. You sit poolside, feet dipped in the water while watching your boyfriend and friends in the pool. Jungkook had convince Yeonjun to join them, which made him open up a bit than earlier,

"You’re not coming in the pool, Tiny?" Namjoon asked, nudging you slightly.

"Mmm," you replied with a coy smile. "Depends if I get a good enough reason to. Otherwise, I’ll chill here." "Oh? We'll give you plenty of reasons."

Just then, Jimin swam over with a mischievous grin. "You know, it's not a real pool party unless everyone's in the pool," he said.

Before you could react, Namjoon and Jimin each grabbed one of your arms. "Hey! Wait!" you squealed, but it was too late. They pulled you into the pool with a big splash.

You resurfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your face. The guys laughed, making you huff. "You guys are the worst!" you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

Yeonjun was about to swim over towards you, until Yoongi beat him to it, “Are you good, Y/N?”

You turned to see Yoongi offering you a hand. "Yeah, I'm okay!" you replied, reaching out to take his hand. With his help, you pulled yourself up to the edge of the pool, sitting there once again with your feet in the water.

"Thanks, Yoongs," you said, giving Yoongi a grateful smile. He nodded, his expression softening as he looked at you.

"No problem," he replied, his tone gentle. "Just making sure you're okay."

As you chatted with Yoongi, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering Yeonjun as he stood in the pool with the others. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of uncertainty that you couldn't quite place.

You caught his gaze for a moment, and you could sense a fear lingering in the pit of his stomach, something he couldn't find the courage to voice. It made you wonder what was going through his mind, what thoughts were swirling beneath that calm exterior he often wore.

Despite your curiosity, you didn't push him to share. Instead, you offered him a reassuring smile, hoping to convey that you were there for him if he ever needed to talk.

As the night wore on and darkness settled over the neighborhood, the sky erupted in bursts of color and light as fireworks filled the air. You and the guys gathered in the driveway, lighting sparklers and watching in awe as the vibrant displays lit up the night.

Yeonjun draped his arm around you, pulling you close as you both gazed up at the dazzling spectacle above. The warmth of his touch and the closeness between you brought a sense of comfort, momentarily easing the worries that had been nagging at you earlier.

As you and Yeonjun watched the fireworks together, he leaned in close, his voice low and smug over the noise of the festivities.

"These fireworks are pretty impressive," he remarked, his eyes flickering with amusement as he looked up at the sky. “Illegal though, but beautiful.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his teasing tone. "Ha, well I think they’re okay, I guess," you replied, feigning nonchalance.

Yeonjun chuckled, his arm sliding casually around your waist. "Just okay? Come on, Y/N. They’re just as pretty as you."

You couldn't help but laugh at his flirty comment, feeling a warm flush spread across your cheeks. "You’re such a smooth talker, aren't you?" you teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder.

He flashed you a cocky grin, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of mischief. "Hey, when you've got it, flaunt it," he quipped, his confidence shining through. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It was quick but electrifying, sending a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. When you pulled away, both of you were left grinning like fools, unable to contain your laughter.

But amidst your shared moment of joy, you couldn't help but notice Yoongi's subtle glance from the side, his expression unreadable in the dim light. A fleeting observation, without time to question it more before Jin called out to you to join them in a sparkler fest.

August 18, 20XX [Friday]

More time spent together with Yeonjun continues to keep you busy throughout the summer, and progressively, you start seeing less and less of specific people. You don’t know if it’s intentional on either end, but that’s just how things have been going. 

“I’m taking you to Knott’s Berry Farm.” Yeonjun says, driving and continuing to look at the road ahead of him.

The slow spiraling of thoughts scatter for a moment as your heart skips a beat at Yeonjun's announcement. Knott's Berry Farm? You hadn't been to an amusement park since the eighth-grade end-of-year trip. The memories flood back, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of nostalgia.

"Seriously?" you ask, unable to contain the grin spreading across your face.

Yeonjun nods, glancing at you with a playful smile. "Yep, seriously. Thought it'd be a fun way to spend the day with you. I love this place too."

You can hardly believe your luck. Knott's Berry Farm is no doubt the most fun place to be at, and with its thrilling rides, delicious food, and vibrant atmosphere, you knew it would be such a cute date to have. 

As you continue down the road, you can't help but chatter excitedly about all the rides you want to go on and the treats you can't wait to try. Yeonjun listens with a smile, occasionally interjecting with his own thoughts and memories of the park from when he was in middle school as well.

You and Yeonjun wander through the park, you come across a charming merry-go-round tucked away in a corner. Yeonjun's eyes light up with excitement, and he suggests taking a ride together. You agree, feeling a flutter of anticipation as you approach the carousel.

Once seated on the colorful wooden horses, you exchange smiles and playful glances with Yeonjun as the merry-go-round begins to spin. The cheerful music fills the air, and you can't help but giggle as you rise and fall with the gentle motion of the ride.

"You’re such a kid!" Yeonjun teases, his laughter mixing with yours.

"Well, what can I say? I just want to be young forever," you reply, feeling carefree in this moment with him. You wave your arm out, feeling so free and liberated.

Is this the korean drama relationship you’ve always dreamed up. After all this time, it feels like you’ve finally achieved it. All these cute dates. A loving boyfriend who was once your academic rival. A summer romance.

Though, when you remember that it’s not just you and Yeonjun in this little world you’ve crafted together, reality hits and you recall the words that your best friends once said: “Right, but you better not leave us behind or start ignoring us for your boyfriend, alright?” 

And then enters a sense of guilt and doubt you’ve felt earlier. 

As the ride slows to a stop, you catch sight of Namjoon, who coincidentally is staring right at you off the ride. He’s with a group of people, you can’t tell at the moment. Your heart skips a beat, and a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. You're not sure why you feel this way, especially around your best friends, but the thought of them seeing you with Yeonjun has progressively made you feel self-conscious. Why is this happening?

"Hey, isn't that Namjoon and the others?" Yeonjun asks, noticing your reaction.

"Yeah," you reply softly, unable to shake off the nerves.

Yeonjun looks at you with concern, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "Y/N, Are you okay?"

You nod, offering him a reassuring smile. "Oh, yeah. Just felt a little nauseous for a sec. Let's go say hi."

Together, you approach Namjoon who turns out to be hanging out with familiar faces like Jungkook and Jin. The other people in their party are unfamiliar to you, but you do see Namjoon’s fling and Jungkook’s fling behind him. 

Unease grows, but you try to push it aside. As you greet them with a smile and introduce yourself to the unknown faces, you can't help but wonder why being with Yeonjun in front of your friends feels so daunting.

You notice Namjoon's being a bit quiet, letting Jin and Jungkook excitedly converse with Yeonjun. You feel a pang of disappointment at the lack of words from him, but you try to brush it off, not wanting to make a scene.

“Jin hyung mentioned he wanted to come to an amusement park so he dragged us–” Jungkook is smacked on the back by the older man.

“You guys wanted to come with me voluntarily! So we brought some buddies. Yoongi and the rest of the guys hate theme parks.” Jin argued back, making you giggle slightly.

Namjoon offers a half-hearted nod while Jungkook and Jin give you bright smiles. Yeonjun stands beside you, his expression unreadable as he observes the interaction.

"Do you want to join us for some rides?" Jin suggests, breaking the awkward silence. "The lines don't look too bad today. The more the merrier right?" The other guys and girls happily agree.

"Yeah! Let’s do it Y/N!" Jungkook agrees, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

You glance at Yeonjun, silently asking for his opinion. He nods in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Sure, that sounds fun.”

"Great! Which ride should we go on first?" you ask, trying to steer the conversation away from the tension that still lingers between Namjoon and Yeonjun.

As you wait in line for the Ghostrider rollercoaster, you can't shake the feeling of tension between Namjoon and Yeonjun. Namjoon stands a little too close to you, pointedly ignoring Yeonjun's attempts at conversation and even the fling he’s here with. You exchange a concerned glance with Yeonjun, but he offers you a reassuring smile, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

You enjoy the thrill of five rides together, getting to talk to some of the college friends Jin and Namjoon brought along, as well as being silly with Jungkook. He reminds you a lot of Jimin at times, and it makes you miss him. You hadn’t seen him for sometime. 

Something else you’ve noticed during this little adventure is that Hyungseo has been trying to cling to Namjoon, however, he keeps kindly rejecting her advances. After some time, she sticks to a few of the other girls in the group, who she seems to gossip about you to. Jungkook’s fling (who you find out is named Tzuyu) is really kind, and probably the only girl to want to genuinely talk to you seeing how comfortable you are around Jungkook. And not in an overly-touchy way, 

After all the rides, the churning sensation in your stomach becomes too much to ignore. "I'm going to grab a water," you announce to the group, nodding towards the nearby concession stand. Yeonjun, Jungkook, and Jin nod in understanding, eager to continue their adventure.

“I can come with you,” Yeonjun suggests, but you shake your head slightly.

“It’s okay, Jjunie. Go join everyone else for another ride! I want you to have fun,” you assure him with a warm smile. 

“Yes, dear friend! Come join us on this quest!” Jin comments, pointing to the next ride, which looks like an insane rollercoaster.

Though he hesitates to leave you behind, he eventually nods and heads over to join Jin and the others.

As you wait in line to buy a bottle of water, Namjoon joins you, his expression unreadable. You sense his tension and decide to break the ice. "You didn’t go on the ride?” You ask.

“Nah, I’ve been feeling parched, so I wanted to grab something to drink,” he responds, his lips forming a straight line. Something is definitely amiss.

“Okay…” You reply before addressing the elephant in the room. "Hey Joonie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

Namjoon hesitates for a moment before replying, "Yeah, why?" His tone is curt, and you can't help but feel a pang of annoyance.

"Namjoon, you've been acting weird towards Yeonjun all day… Plus, you aren’t hanging out with Hyungseo?" you finally confront him, unable to ignore the tension any longer. "What's going on?"

"Surprised you even remembered her name.” He chuckles “We’re just friends, nothing serious. I don’t need to be glued to her all the time.”

That sounds like a slight jab to you hanging around Yeonjun, but you’re not gonna say that.

“Ignoring my main question, I see.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Hey, I’m not being weird. I just… don't like Yeonjun, isn’t that fair to feel? I don’t trust him either."

You furrow your brows in confusion. "What do you mean? Yeonjun is my boyfriend, and he's been nothing but kind to me."

Namjoon shakes his head, his expression firm. "I know, but I’ve heard from Jimin and the shit his dance friends said. I have a bad feeling about him. I don't want to see you get hurt."

It’s actually interesting that he brings this up right now, because you realized, that despite you hanging out with Yeonjun often, you haven’t met those dance friends. You’ve talked about wanting to dance, but he says he’ll bring you there eventually.

You feel a surge of frustration at Namjoon's stubbornness. “Namjoon, I appreciate your concern, but I'm capable of making my own decisions. Yeonjun cares about me, and I trust him.” You take the time to sigh now, “Plus, How do we know that whatever rumors they say are true. Maybe it could be some jealous ex?’

Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more of his unfounded suspicions. "Fine, let's just enjoy the rest of the day, okay? We can talk about this later."

“No… I want to talk about this right now. I know you, Yoongi, and Jimin might be worried that Yeonjun could be using me or even seeing someone else, but everything is going amazing right now. He’s been the sweetest boyfriend.” You sigh, feeling tears welling up in your eyes, “I just want my best friends to get along with my boyfriend. Please.”

Feeling the depth of your emotions, Namjoon's expression softens, his concern evident in his eyes. "I understand, Tiny. I'm sorry if I've made things uncomfortable," he says, his tone gentler now.

There. He says it again like he did back in June. It feels like walking on eggshells.

You nod, appreciating his willingness to listen. "It's okay, Joonie. I know you're just looking out for me," you reply, feeling some of the tension ease between you.

Namjoon lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just want what's best for you, you know? And if Yeonjun truly cares about you, then I'll do my best to support you both," he admits, his voice tinged with sincerity, but also a hint of frustration. You don’t want to comment on that. You wonder if you were in his position, would you do the same thing? Maybe.

Nonetheless, a sense of relief washes over you, grateful for Namjoon's willingness to put aside his reservations for your sake. "Thank you, Joonie. That means a lot to me," you say, offering him a small smile.

As the day comes to a close, you bid farewell to the guys, exchanging hugs and promises to hang out again soon. With Yeonjun by your side, you exit the park, the vibrant lights of the attractions fading into the distance as you make your way to his car.

The silence hangs between you for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the engine as Yeonjun starts the car. Then, breaking the quietude, Yeonjun speaks up, his voice laced with uncertainty, "Namjoon doesn't like me much, does he?"

You turn to look at him, noting the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders. Sighing softly, you reach out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "No! It's not that he doesn't like you, Jjunie," you assure him, using the affectionate nickname you've grown fond of. "He's just protective of me, that's all."

Which you initially thought wasn’t the case, but with time, you’re starting to see it come out.

Yeonjun nods, though his expression remains troubled. "I get that," he replies, his gaze fixed on the road ahead and recounting the many stories of your past with Namjoon that you’ve told him. "But I want him to know that I care about you too, and that I'll do everything I can to make you happy."

You offer him a reassuring smile, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. "I know you will, Jjunie," you say, squeezing his arm gently. "And I appreciate that more than you know." Yeonjun stops at an empty parking lot by the lake park by his place just to prove this simple fact to you. You're not sure when you ended up in his lap but you can't complain as you run your fingers through the waves of his hair. Pressed up against him in such a tight space. The flurry of emotions has goosebumps raising on your skin and he pulls away, panting harshly. Your foreheads are touching as you gaze at each other.

"I still can't believe you want me," he almost laughs in disbelief. "Is this real or am I dreaming?"

"Of course, you're not dreaming. I do want you. Always have. None of your other crushes ever want you?" You roll your hips as a test and Yeonjun’s low moan of your name only amplifies your confidence. "How could they when they weren't me?"

He slides his seat back, the sudden motion causing you to slam a hand against the window to try to steady yourself and avoid throwing your weight against him. But that's exactly what he wants. Using the momentum to cup the round cheeks of your ass under your skirt, he positions you right where the tip of his hard cock pokes against his jeans. You can feel him through the thin piece of fabric that is your already ruined panties.

"You're so wet, baby," he murmurs against your lips. "All for me, yeah? No one else, no other guy could soak your pussy like me, right?"

Even if it was a lie (which it wasn't), you can only agree because Yeonjun doesn't move an inch until a resounding yes leaves your lips. It's another scrambled blur as you fight to undo his belt and pull his jeans in the small space you have. 

Just like your love for him.

You let out a relieved sigh when his cock is in your hand and Yeonjun moans, throwing his head back. You'd moved down a bit so you could jerk him off easier, giggling at how he twitches when he feels the heat of your pulsating cunt leaking all over his thigh.

Then, once prepped, Yeonjun slides your panties to the side and prepares to roll a condom down on his length. He lets his head fall forehead and softly bumps your forehead with his as you attempt to sink down on his dick. He keeps his fingers splayed across both of your hips, bunching up the fabric of your short skirt so he can watch the way your puffy pussy lips part and wrap around the tip of his thick, hard cock.

And then eventually, after a series of thrusts, rolls, and moans of “jjunie” and “princess”,  you both reach orgasm.

Yes, this is the world you want to stay in. You don’t want this to end.

August 21st, 20XX [Monday]

The faint sounds of a video game’s battle music filled Yoongi’s living room, but none of the guys were paying attention. The controllers lay discarded on the couch, forgotten as they discussed a far more pressing issue.

"I feel like I'm gonna lose my mind," Namjoon groaned, throwing an arm over his face as he leaned back on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His frustration hanged in the air.

“Well, what can you do? She loves the guy and he seems to love her. We just gotta let them be.” Yoongi muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Yeah, and I found out that guy is really just a total dick! Are you really just going to ‘let them be’ while knowing that?” Jimin snapped from the other side of the room, his voice sharp with disbelief.

Taehyung, perched on the edge of the couch, chimed in, his tone more neutral. "Come on, he can't be that bad." He glanced at Hoseok, who nodded thoughtfully in agreement. Jimin, however, was having none of it. "Oh, he's that bad," he insisted, leaning forward with an intensity that had everyone’s attention. "Some of my dancer mutuals told me Yeonjun was completely head over heels for Y/N, but suddenly he's been cozying up to some of the college freshmen girls who just moved into the city for university. They go to the same dance center he trains at. If that doesn’t say something about him and a change in behavior, I don’t know what will."

"Maybe he's just being friendly?" Taehyung suggested, elbowing Jimin playfully. "Isn't he like that? Aren't you like that?"

Jimin shot him a glare, clearly annoyed. "You see, compared to me, I don’t act all friendly and even touchy with other people, especially girls, while I’m dating someone. That’s making it seem like I’m not interested in my partner, which is what Yeonjun’s showing.” “I thought you guys collectively agreed you wouldn't care about who she was seeing and wouldn't let it get in the way of your lives,” Hoseok pointed out, his voice calm but firm.

The pact. Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon made that to not let their feelings get in the way of your friendship with them, but they would also try to continue to support you in dating another man, even if it wasn’t them.

Emphasis on “try”, it wasn’t working. Hoseok had heard about this pact, but the other guys don’t know the details or extent of everything.

"I mean, we tried," Namjoon admitted with a heavy sigh, dragging his hand down his face. "But how can we just sit back and let this happen when we know he's... he's not good for her? She deserves better."

Yoongi's fingers drummed absentmindedly on his knee, his usually calm demeanor cracking ever so slightly. "Hoseok's right, though. We said we wouldn’t let this ruin things. But watching her with him? It’s harder than I thought. We don’t even talk to her as much as we used to. Even college had me feeling distanced."

Jimin threw his phone at the floor in frustration, stuttering. "B-But If Yeonjun’s messing around behind her back, we can’t just sit here and do nothing!"

The room fell into a heavy silence. Even the game’s background music seemed to fade into the distance. It was clear that the pact, once meant to protect their friendship and their feelings for you, was now a source of inner conflict when you’re with someone else.

Hoseok, who hadn’t been as deeply involved in the situation, finally spoke up. "So, what are you guys gonna do? Intervene and risk her getting mad at you all, or let it play out and see if she figures it out on her own?"

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with an emotion none of them could name. Deep down, he knew the answer to that question. And it wasn’t going to be easy.

Namjoon, staring at the ceiling again, said quietly, “Maybe Hoseok’s right. We’re the ones who need to figure out what we’re doing—before we lose her entirely. Let’s just let her be.” Yoongi and Jimin exchanged pained glances, both struggling to accept the decision they knew they had to make. Despite the knot tightening in their chests, it was clear that the only path left was to respect your choices. You seem to trust Yeonjun and Yeonjun seems to do that too, however with time, people’s true colors start to bleed through like the pages written in Sharpie ink. 

It’s only a matter of time before you’d see it too. That despite getting closer to Yeonjun, his spark would eventually flicker and dim.

And that’s what happened.

September 10, 20XX [Sunday]

Yeonjun drove you to campus for move-in day, his car filled to the brim with boxes filled with your things to move into college. Despite the conversations and silly banter you had with him throughout the two hour car ride to campus, something felt off about him. You couldn’t pin point it. Maybe he’s sad that you’re going to be apart for sometime? But his school is still relatively close enough for you to hang out on weekends. He’s being allowed to take his car to campus, so lucky of him.

For the stuff that didn’t fit in his car, you kindly begged Yoongi to add to his car filled with Jimin’s stuff. And he kindly allowed it. A win for you! 

You think back to when Yoongi arrived at your house to pick up your stuff, it had been the first time you saw him in over a month. He had cut his hair, styled it differently from the usually bowl cut style he’d sport. He looked… good.

Jimin had the longer bowl cut look, which he sat in the box trying to not get crushed by boxes. Namjoon stepped into the passenger seat, his hair short as well. It felt relieving to see them alive and well after some time. You hadn’t seen Namjoon since the amusement park date.

You’d thought you’d get to see them more often, but good thing is that you’ll be at the same school again.

“Thank you guys for helping Jimin and me move into our dorm,” you chirped, flashing a grin as you gave Namjoon and Yoongi a playful pat on the back. You walked beside them, rolling up a cart piled high with a ridiculous amount of boxes.

“Anytime, just for you,” Yoongi sang in his usual deadpan way, though the small smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

Namjoon chuckled, glancing over at the mountain of stuff. “You sure this is everything? Feels like you packed your whole life.”

You shrugged, grinning. "Gotta be prepared for anything."

Yoongi nods, smirking as he adds, “Yeah, just don’t forget who helped when it’s time to hang stuff up.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep that in mind. Decorating party at my place later, right?"

The campus had mostly quieted down by the afternoon, some students already attending some of the orientation/back to school festivities. Most of the freshmen had already moved in that morning, leaving the dorm halls a lot less chaotic. Jimin, who had been assigned to the same building as you but lived four doors down the hall, had already unpacked most of his things earlier. Yoongi and Namjoon, being sophomores, had moved into their dorm across the quad the day before, making them more than willing to lend a hand.

As you all approach the open door to your dorm, you see Yeonjun inside, standing in front of your roommate’s side of the room, helping unpack some things. His face brightens when he spots you. “Hey, Princess,” he greeted with a charming smile, lifting a small stack of books. “Where do you want these?”

You paused for a second, feeling your heart skip a beat at the sight of him in your space. "Oh, just put them on the desk for now," you said, trying to sound nonchalant as you wheeled the cart in.

Yoongi, walking in behind you, exchanged a glance with Namjoon. They didn’t say anything, but the tension was palpable. You could feel it hanging in the air between them and Yeonjun, though neither had the courage—or the willingness—to voice whatever was on their minds.

Jimin entered your room after finishing unpacking the major things he had boxed up in his dorm room, "Still can't believe we're neighbors now. You'll be crashing at my place in no time."

You laugh softly and punch his arm lightly. "We’ll see about that."

Namjoon, with his typical smirk, adds, "Don't let her get too comfortable, Jimin. She might just never leave."

“Haha, as if. I’ll be fine in the comfort of my own hut here, once I get everything set up, that is.”

As everyone helped unpack, the awkwardness lingered, though Yoongi and Namjoon seemed to make an effort to push through it. You couldn't help but notice their eyes occasionally flitting toward Yeonjun, especially when he got too close to you. And while Yeonjun remained his usual confident self, you couldn’t shake the feeling that even he sensed the underlying tension.

After a while, Yoongi cleared his throat. “Alright, I think we’ve done our part. Plus, I’m hungry. You guys want anything for a late lunch? I’ll go with Namjoon and bring it over to eat here.”

“Are you getting it from the dining hall or off campus?”

Namjoon chuckled. “We’ve got a Pizza My Heart right across the street at the university town center. I don’t think we should subject you to dining hall hell yet.”

You laughed. “Fair! Just get me whatever looks good, as long as it doesn’t have olives.”

“Okay, princess,” Yoongi teased sarcastically, earning a laugh from everyone—well, except Yeonjun, whose expression was unreadable.

“We’ll be back soon,” Yoongi added as he stood up, nudging Namjoon to follow.

Jimin stood up as well, stretching his arms. “I’m gonna be back. I need to grab my MacBook charger from Jungkook. He’s on the first floor.”

You nodded, “Alright, see you soon.”

As the others left, you were left alone with Yeonjun, and suddenly the room felt a bit quieter. You could sense the shift in the air, but decided not to address it yet. Instead, you turned to him and smiled. “Thanks again for all the help today.”

He smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, anything for you."

After setting up the bedding, you sat on your bed, cross-legged, while Yeonjun at on the floor, scrolling through his phone before going back to taking things out of your boxes. The energy in the room was quieter, almost unsettling, and even though nothing had really happened, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt… off. Maybe it was how distant Yeonjun had been, or how little he’d said since Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin left.

“So, are you going to rush for a frat?” you asked, trying to cut through the awkwardness in the air. He’d mentioned it before as a joke, but now that school was starting, you wonder if he was seriously considering it.

Yeonjun shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, some of the guys I know are rushing, so it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

You smiled, though it felt forced. “That's cool. I guess it’s like… a built-in social life, huh?”

“Yeah, and the connections, I heard, could be good for internships or something. I don’t know much yet, but I’ll figure it out,” he replied, his voice sounding unusually flat.

You shifted, adjusting the pillow behind your back. “I was looking into joining some clubs too. There's the Korean Student Association and Intramural Volleyball club that sound fun, and there’s also this creative collective for business students interested in marketing and branding. I think it could be a great way to meet people and maybe do something more hands-on.”

Yeonjun nodded, but you noticed his attention was drifting, like he wasn’t really invested in the conversation. That was when you felt the first pang of unease. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just nerves from the whole “new chapter” thing.

“So, what do you think? Should I go for all? I know it’s a lot, but I kind of want to try everything.”

Yeonjun glanced up at you, meeting your eyes for a split second before looking away again. His jaw tightened a little, and there was this flicker of something in his expression—something you couldn’t quite read. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, his voice strained, like he was forcing himself to sound supportive. “It’s… it’s really great that you’re finding your path.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, sensing the shift. He wasn’t being weird, not exactly, but something in his tone wasn’t right. It was like he was holding back. You weren’t sure whether to push him or let it go, but the knot in your stomach only grew tighter.

“Yeonjun, is everything good? You seem a little... off.” You laughed lightly, hoping to ease whatever tension was in the air.

He let out a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ve just been thinking about some stuff.”

Oh.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like…” His voice trailed off, the words hanging in the air between you. The pause felt longer than it should have, and your pulse quickened. 

He stood up from where he’d been sitting on the floor, crossing his arms as he looked at you—really looked at you—like he was trying to brace himself for whatever he was about to say.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and the dread that had been quietly bubbling up inside you suddenly spiked.

“Y/N…" His voice was serious, and when his eyes met yours, they didn’t hold the warmth you were used to. Instead, they were cold, distant, like he was already somewhere else. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to process the words that had come out of his mouth. Did he really just say what you thought he said? “…What?”

“I think we should break up,” he repeated, this time with more conviction, like he’d already made the decision long before this moment. His tone was so matter-of-fact, so detached, it almost didn’t feel real.

You blinked, frozen in place. Your brain was scrambling to catch up to the situation, but all you could do was stare at him, disbelief washing over you. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not like this. You had just been talking about school, about clubs, about the future—things that felt exciting. You’ve been dating all summer, and you were about to start a new chapter together after years of being rivals. And now, just like that, he was ending it?

“Yeonjun…” you finally managed to say, your voice quiet and shaky. “Where is this coming from? We were just—everything was fine…”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. We’re going to college, we’re going to meet new people… things are gonna change.”

His words hit you like a punch in the gut. “So… that’s it? You’ve been thinking about it for a while, and now you just… drop this on me? In the middle of you helping me move in to my dorm? Right before I start my first day of college tomorrow”

Yeonjun didn’t look at you, his jaw tightening as he stood there, silent. It was clear he had made up his mind, but that didn’t stop the confusion and hurt from flooding you.

Yeonjun looked down, avoiding your gaze. "I’m sorry, Y/N," he finally muttered, his voice soft but resolute.

You watched as he turned toward the door, his hands slipping into his pockets as if he’d already checked out of this moment. He was leaving. He was actually walking away.

You got off your bed, wanting to chase after him, hoping to somehow find out the real reason why. What he said can’t be the answer!

 However, because you were sitting cross-legged, your legs had fallen asleep, causing you to stumble and fall to the carpeted floor. You groan from the sudden contact, fists balling up.

“...After everything, you’re just gonna walk away, Yeonjun?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, a mix of anger and heartbreak clawing at your chest.

Yeonjun paused for a moment at the door but didn’t turn around. The silence felt crushing, like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the hollow space between you. He didn’t say anything, just opened the door and stepped out, leaving you sitting there in a daze.

Namjoon and Yoongi walked back into your dorm building after someone from inside buzzed them in. Each of them held a pizza box from Pizza My Heart, the one right across the street, with paper plates tucked under one arm and little packets of crushed red pepper and parmesan balanced on top. They were deep in conversation about Yoongi's music, as usual.

"I’m kinda jealous," Namjoon admitted, balancing the pizzas as they headed up the stairs. "You get to fully dive into that and make it your thing. Already producing amazing music at your age too. I don’t even know what my thing is yet."

Yoongi had been producing tracks for people on a freelance basis, just because he fell in love with it. Thanks to you encouraging him in the past. Namjoon had wanted to do a similar thing, however, he doesn’t think he could be as great at Yoongi. Plus there were other things he wanted to do on his mind.

Yoongi shrugged, his casual confidence showing through. "You’ll figure it out, man. You’ve got time. It’s not like everything’s set in stone."

Namjoon let out a soft chuckle, but it was tinged with uncertainty. "I’m leaning toward doing work in writing or art conservation… I just love how it connects culture and history, you know? But I’m majoring in polisci like my mom wanted. It feels more... secure, I guess. Something to lean on if I don’t find my footing elsewhere."

Yoongi nodded, understanding but focused. "That makes sense. You're always reading up on political theory in your free time, so it’s not like it’s a waste either."

As they climbed the stairs, they reached the hallway leading to your dorm when Namjoon noticed Yeonjun walking in the opposite direction, clearly in a hurry. Something about his rushed pace felt… wrong. Instinctively, Namjoon called out, "Yo, Yeonjun!"

But Yeonjun kept moving, not even glancing in their direction. He usually wasn’t the most chatty guy around Namjoon, but he always acknowledged him. This time? Nothing.

"That’s weird," Namjoon muttered, looking over at Yoongi, who was already watching him with raised eyebrows. Yoongi sensed it too—something was off.

They quickened their pace toward your dorm room. As they approached, they saw that the door was slightly ajar. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat, his fingers tightening on the pizza boxes. Why was the door open?

Pushing the door open, they stepped inside and immediately froze.

You were sitting on the floor, devastation clear in your eyes. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t make a sound. Your arms were limp, hands resting on your lap, and your eyes stared blankly ahead, as if everything around you had collapsed in that moment.

Namjoon’s heart sank to the floor, the pizza boxes feeling like dead weight in his hands. He didn’t need an explanation to understand what had just happened, but Yoongi was the one to break the heavy silence. “What… happened?” Yoongi’s voice was low and careful, as if even asking might shatter the fragile state you were in.

You didn’t look up, but your voice came out, flat and hollow. "He broke up with me."

Namjoon’s breath hitched. That was all you needed to say. He immediately set the pizza boxes down, shoving them into Yoongi’s arms without a word and rushed out of the room, determination in his steps.

What the hell, Yeonjun? Namjoon thought as he bolted down the hall. His mind raced, a mixture of anger and disbelief bubbling up inside him. How could you just do that? Out of nowhere?

Namjoon reached the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time as his thoughts continued to swirl. He barely registered his surroundings as he burst through the door and out into the parking lot, scanning the area for any sign of Yeonjun.

But he was already gone.

Namjoon stood there, breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His mind replayed the sight of you on the floor, shattered, and the empty hallway where Yeonjun had disappeared. He cursed under his breath, staring out into the empty parking lot, feeling utterly helpless.

Upon returning to your dorm, Namjoon stepped inside to find you crumpled against Yoongi’s shoulder, your sobs tearing through the quiet room. Yoongi sat there, his arm around you, giving gentle, soothing pats on your back. His expression was calm, but his eyes were clouded with concern

Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung had shown up, standing a few feet away, clearly unsure of how to approach the situation. They exchanged worried glances, but didn’t dare say anything, afraid to make things worse.

Namjoon stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking. “He’s gone,” he said flatly, his voice carrying the weight of disappointment and anger.

You didn’t even look up. Your voice, fragile and broken, managed to slip through the tears. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Namjoon could hear it in the way your voice cracked, in the way your body trembled against Yoongi. The room was silent, save for your quiet sobs, and the tension hung heavily between all of you.

Jimin stepped forward, kneeling down next to you. "Hey," he said softly, his tone as gentle as he could muster. "We’re here. You don’t have to go through this alone, alright?"

Taehyung, standing behind Jimin, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got us now too.” He referred to him, Jungkook, Hoseok and Seokjin. “Whatever you need, just say the word.”

"Should we go hunt Yeonjun down and beat the shit out of him?" Jungkook chimes in, his tone was both serious and protective. “Namjoon hyung and I will take care of it!”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, momentarily startled by the boldness, but the hint of anger in his eyes showed he wasn’t entirely against the idea. “It wouldn’t be that hard to find him, right?” he added, cracking his knuckles.

A part of you almost wanted to say yes, let them go after him. Let someone else feel this rage, this betrayal, the way you were feeling it now. But would it fix anything? The thought of them confronting Yeonjun, of this turning into something more, twisted in your stomach. You didn’t want that kind of drama. You didn’t want to give Yeonjun the satisfaction of knowing he’d affected you this deeply.

“As satisfying as that might sound, we probably shouldn’t resort to violence.” Jimin glanced at you, his soft gaze almost apologetic, as if he knew this was far from enough to make up for what just happened.

A small, dry laugh escaped your lips, surprising even yourself. “I don’t think beating him up will change anything. But… I appreciate the thought.”

You were trying to keep it together, but every breath felt heavier than the last. There was a numbness creeping into your limbs, a strange feeling of disassociation. Like you were watching everything from the outside, seeing your friends rally around you, but not fully present in your own skin. How did it get to this point? Just hours ago, everything seemed okay. You'd laughed with Yeonjun, talked about plans with your best friends, even looked forward to your classes... and then, out of nowhere, he tore everything apart.

Jungkook still looked like he was ready to throw down. “It’s not fair that he just walks away like that! You deserve better!”

Better. You nodded slowly, the reality of the situation starting to sink in. You did deserve better, didn’t you? But for some reason, it felt like you couldn’t quite believe it. Like a part of you was still stuck on the idea that maybe you’d done something wrong, that you weren’t enough. You shook off the thought before it could take root. “I know. It just… hurts.”

It really does.

Yoongi’s hand stayed firm on your shoulder, grounding you. “You’ve got us. That’s what matters right now.”

Namjoon sighed, letting go of some of the anger building up inside him. “We’ll handle Yeonjun another way if we need to,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “But for now, let’s focus on getting you through this.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. They were trying so hard to help you, to lift you up, and you appreciated it more than you could ever say. But even with their support, there was an ache inside you that you couldn’t shake. A part of you felt so small, so foolish, for letting Yeonjun in just for him to leave like this. 

Jimin and Taehyung, sensing the heavy atmosphere, suggested playing games or heading over to Hoseok and Seokjin’s off-campus rental to distract you. They were trying to lift the mood, and though you appreciated their efforts, you weren’t quite up for it. You mustered a small smile, grateful for how much they cared, but the weight of your heartbreak still anchored you. The thought of how lucky you were to have them by your side helped, but it didn’t ease the pain completely.

As the afternoon slowly bled into the evening, you left the dorm with your friends to explore the campus before classes began the next day. You did your best to seem like you were okay, like crying it out and eating pizza had made you feel better. But even though you laughed at their jokes and joined in the conversation, you couldn’t fool them. They knew you were struggling beneath the surface.

In the days that followed, despite the distraction of your new routine, the heartache lingered like a dull ache. You kept busy, throwing yourself into unpacking, attending orientation events, and exploring the campus with your friends. But no matter how much you tried to move on, Yeonjun's sudden departure haunted you, lingering in your thoughts when you least expected it. Even surrounded by friends and laughter, there was always a hollow space where he used to be.

You tried to shake it off, but the sadness crept in, even more as classes started and the reality of college life sank in. You knew it would take time, but for now, pretending to be fine was the best you could do.

Your first year of college was supposed to be exciting, but much of it blurred together, like walking through a fog. The daily routines, classes, and dorm life all seemed to meld into one long stretch of time, where the only thing that truly stood out were small, vivid memories—those moments where everything suddenly felt in color. One of those was the day you met Ahn Hyejin, known around campus as Hwasa. It was a week into the semester when you finally worked up the courage to go to the Fall Club Fair and join a club. The guys wanted you to go check it out, hoping this would get you out of your daze. And it kinda did help.

You’ve never had a female close friend before. Usually girls would steer clear of you out of jealousy for being friends with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin.

However, Hwasa was different. Hwasa was bold, unafraid to speak her mind, and had a way of making you feel like you were exactly where you needed to be. She didn’t care about the other guys, as she also had close guy friends too. She quickly became the friend you didn’t realize you needed. With her, you started feeling more like yourself again. Together, you explored the campus, hit up the best food spots, and even talked about bigger things, like what you wanted from life and what it meant to start fresh. Each step forward was a tiny rebellion against the lingering thoughts of Yeonjun.

Bit by bit, you immersed yourself in college life, finding comfort in new experiences, distractions, and laughter. Parties. Maybe a little bit of underage drinking in moderation, of course. Slowly, the weight of that breakup lifted, and you began to focus on your future, your passions, and the friends who were always there for you. In time, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, and the rest of the group became even more important to you. Their support, the inside jokes, and all the moments shared together filled the spaces that had once been occupied by the pain of Yeonjun leaving.

One afternoon in late spring, you found yourself sitting on the campus lawn with Yoongi, watching one of Yoongi’s band friends perform at the Spring Fling. Students sit around you two, while a gentle breeze swept through the budding trees. He was fixing the strings on his guitar, which he recently started to learn to play. He was lost in thought as usual, while you sat beside him, enjoying music and the warmth of the sun on your skin.

“You’ve changed,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned to look at him, a bit surprised by the observation. “In what way?”

He glanced up from his guitar, his eyes soft but serious. “I don’t know... you just seem lighter. More like yourself again.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of his words. “Is that so? I think I’m finally starting to let that thing go.”

Yoongi nodded, strumming another chord. “It’s good to see. We were all worried for a while... after Yeonjun.”

At the mention of his name, you expected to feel that familiar sting, the one that usually sat in your chest whenever you thought about him. But this time, it wasn’t as sharp. “Yeah,” you murmured, looking down at your hands, “I was a mess for a while, but that’s life. I thought the relationship meant something bigger, but ”

“You weren’t a mess,” Yoongi corrected, his voice calm and measured, “you were healing.”

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Healing. That’s exactly what it was. Slowly but surely, piece by piece, you were putting yourself back together. And in that moment, sitting beside Yoongi on the grass, watching the band play, you realized just how far you’d come. The fog had started to lift.

Spring had a way of bringing new beginnings, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were ready for yours.

But that was just the beginning of another story—the one you wouldn’t fully understand until much later.

–

A/N: thank you for reading! if you're be interested, please check out my 'love u lately' series focused on Yoongi x Namjoon x Jimin x Reader. happy yeonjun day!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ love u lately series masterlist

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices — Part Two

For @erisweekofficial Day 2: Legacy

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris Vanserra carries a legacy of cruelty, a reputation forged in whispers and fear. But something doesn't quite fit anymore. You’re beginning to think that the male doesn't truly match the legend he's left behind.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, cruelty, injury, battling to death, introspection? like a lot, readers head is soooo big from these big thoughts

Word Count: 3.1k

did someone say eris week mini series???? technically can be read as a stand alone, just squint

Part One | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

When Eris Vanserra was born, his mother wept in the bathroom for hours after.

Her trembling hands muffled her soft cries as her handmaidens swaddled a newborn Eris in fine cloth. Beron hadn’t been there for most of the birth—hadn’t held her hand the way her father had held her mother’s. He came only at the end, just in time to praise the heir as he left her womb, presenting him like a trophy before promptly leaving for court business.

She was still young, felt like a child herself— at least in her own mind. So, while she loved her son dearly, his birth had cemented her fate to a male she didn’t love, a male whose hands she feared more than death itself.

His mother loved him, this Eris knew. Even at a young age, he felt that love. It burned in him like a comforting flame, the same warmth as the heavy blanket she would tuck around him at night or the sunlight that seeped into his skin on warm afternoons.

And yet, even surrounded by that love, Eris grew up lonely.

His loneliness led him to finding a home in curiosity, in sticking his pointed nose into matters that often didn’t concern him, picking out small details he'd unconsciously store for later. He was a collector from the beginning—of people, of excuses, of emotions he had yet to name.

Perhaps that was why he was so sickeningly fond of you, so starkly different from the others, equally curious, equally lonely.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn't Eris who people met first.

It was his reputation.

Eldest son of the High Lord, equal parts cunning and cruel, a loyal soldier with the venom of a viper. Anguish seemed to follow him, seemed to follow any with Vanserra blood, but there was something distinct about Eris, something divinely alluring. Terrifyingly sinful.

It was all true. So you weren't sure why it bothered you so much when your patrons talked about him, when his name was thrown into conversations surrounding the High Lord.

Your family's tavern was always filled with stories. Its dimly lit, worn wooden tables had overheard more whispered secrets and slurred confessions than you could ever count. Most nights were like this, with drinks spilling over into the laps of locals, the hum of conversation swirling in the air like smoke from the hearth. Tucked in a corner of the court’s lands, it was a place for those not high enough to feast in grand halls but not low enough to beg in the streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. A comfortable middle ground.

You placed a handful foaming drinks before the three males at the bar, taking a moment to analyze their appearance. They were relatively large, muscular builds hinting at some form of laborious profession. The callouses on their hands told you that they handled weapons often. But their clothes weren't nice enough to be one of Beron's men, weren't tailored enough to be one of Eris's either. Perhaps they were border patrollers, the lowest and grimiest of the forces.

They thanked you with lingering, appraising eyes as you moved away to fetch more drinks.

“I heard,” one of the them said, leaning closer to his companions, “that the eldest boy has a new game he plays with those who cross him. A real spectacle.”

The male next to him, the oldest of the three, nodded eagerly. “They say he’s got a private arena where he forces traitors to fight each other to the death. It’s supposed to be brutal—nothing but blood and screams. And Eris just sits there, like it’s a grand show.”

You clenched your teeth, turning around to face the wall behind you, forcing yourself to attend to the pile of glasses waiting to be wiped down. You tried to focus on your task, hoping to drown out their disturbing conversation, but it was no use. You could feel your grip tightening on the material of the rag, knuckles white as they continued to talk, their voices growing louder and louder with every drink they took.

It was a lie. A rumor. Nothing more.

Yes, Eris was cruel. He was manipulative and calculated. But you'd seen slivers of something else, something brighter, kinder, even. While you believed that a male should face the consequences of his actions, there was no honor in perpetuating lies that simply weren’t true.

It made no sense, anyway. Eris had done plenty of questionable things. There were multitudes of actions to choose from, many things worthy of criticism. There was no need to indulge in falsehoods. The image they painted of Eris—a male reduced to a sadistic spectator in a grotesque spectacle—seemed far removed even from him.

“A grand show?” the third scoffed. “He’s not just watching. He’s placing bets on who’ll survive, like it’s some sick sport. It’s all for his amusement. I’ve heard he gets pleasure out of the carnage. Let's his hounds ravage the bodies.”

A knot tightened in your chest and you gripped the glassware harder, cloth bunching in your grasp. Before you could register the motion yourself, you spun around, the movement abrupt enough to make the males flinch.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you sneered. The males stiffened, large angry eyes boring into yours. You continued. "Bold of you to traverse around spreading rumors of a High Lord's son. Be grateful he isn't around to correct you himself."

You blinked, the anger draining away as quickly as it had surged, leaving a wave of embarrassment in its place. You took in the male’s faces—initially stunned, then quickly morphing into anger. It was an expected reaction from those who felt their pride wounded, especially from males who had just been scolded by a low-court fae like yourself.

You straightened, trying to regain your composure as you cleared your throat.

The largest of the men leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a sneer. “Well, well, boys,” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I think our pretty little bartender might be one of the Princeling’s whores.”

You weighed your options as you stood there, hand still gripping the glass. For a fleeting moment, you were tempted to shatter it over his head. The thought of the glass breaking, of the shards embedding themselves in his skin, was almost satisfying.

But you didn't. Your father would be angry, would be disappointed above all. You needed the business.

You took a deep breath and your grip on the glass loosened.

“Allow me to apologize,” you said. “It seems I’m more sensitive about our court’s reputation than I realized. I don’t know what came over me. How about a round on the house?”

Their faces shifted to smug satisfaction as they accepted the offer with eager grins and, soon, their cups were filled once more. As they happily downed their next round of drinks, you slipped out from behind the bar.

The door’s bell chimed softly as you stepped outside, itching to find the heir that was imprinted into your mind.

Strangely enough, you knew exactly where he'd be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You found him in a clearing south of The Forest House, an expansive area bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was a dedicated space for the hounds, adorned in various obstacles that Eris used during their training—wooden jumps, tunnels, and agility courses set up with careful precision. You'd seen the area of land a handful of times before, times when Lucien found Eris to argue or hurl curses.

You approached carefully, watching as Eris kneeled by one of the hounds, gently tending to what seemed to be a cut on its paw.

After a moment, he finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and a playful glint manifested in his eyes.

"Even after all these years, a vixen without a fox at her side is still a strange sight."

You gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath as your eyes roamed the face of the male before you.

It was an unnecessary jab.

Lucien hadn’t been by your side for centuries now. Though you had visited him as often as you could, the friendship you once shared had changed. He had changed. You had, too. You'd grown into your life at Autumn—managing the tavern that bore your family’s name and living vicariously through the stories that came your way.

The last time you had seen Lucien was marked by a change. You'd looked into his eyes and somehow understood that things were different beyond what had been anticipated.

"Why do you do that?" You asked. "Be a dick when you don't need to be?"

Eris stood, brushing his hands clean as the hound trotted away to rejoin the rest. He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, a scrutinizing, analyzing moment. Then he offered you a shrug, something so casual and dismissive. You were sure it would've warded off anyone else, that his disinterestedness would have begun to tired them already, turn them the other way.

"Maybe it's part of my charm," he finally responded, "Or maybe I'm just a dick."

He made no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice as he emphasized your insult. Eris had been called many things— you'd heard them, even delivered a few of the titles. But so far, you were the only one to call him two things: a dick, and a prick. Perhaps it was delusion, but you swore that he seemed to enjoy it when you said such things, seemed to smirk in a way that wasn't just cruel, but impressed.

You rolled your eyes. "Most wouldn't wear that title with such pride."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "What's the use in denying my nature?"

You sighed, a sound of frustration, of annoyance. "Do you not grow bored of your little games?"

Eris rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He always had immaculate posture, his stature was often so perfect that it was almost uncomfortable to witness. It emphasized his wealth, somehow— emphasized his power. He towered over you even more now.

"Did you seek me out solely to criticize me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No."

"Then why?"

You still weren't entirely sure why you had come.

"Perhaps I was bored."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Do you not have any friends?"

You bristled. "I have plenty." You paused, allowing your gaze to settle on the view before you, on the open land and the animals that in the open expanse. You turned back to Eris. "It's you that doesn't seem to have any. Your only companionship recently seems to be those hounds. I'm surprised you're not running on all fours."

Eris's expression shifted. He let out a small chuckle and you fought against the twitch in your lips, cursed the warmth that blossomed in your chest. But the amusement dissipated from his face soon after, replaced be a resolve of cold indifference. His eyes seemed tired in this light.

"As much as I…enjoy our little talks," He began after a moment, "I didn't ask for company. You should find someone who wants it."

A small sense of rejection passed through your skin like a cold, morning chill. You were never foolish enough to think Eris would welcome your presence with open arms and a smile, never naive enough to consider yourself anything more than semi-peaceful acquaintances. But still, there was something deep within you that wished he’d show you something beyond the disregard he showed others.

That wasn't a fool's wish— because you knew it was possible.

You'd seen it.

Strangely enough, you had. In the stolen glances when he thought no one was looking, how he lingered after you stumbled, offered a hand before quickly retracting it. There had been flowers at your door after your mother passed of Autumn fever, an unusual number of wealthy patrons who had frequented your father’s tavern for months afterward, tipping generously despite only having a drink or two. They all adorned attire of a specific, deep green that you’d come to recognize easily—the shade often worn by Eris’s personal guard.

His name was never attached to any of it, but you could trace it back to him. You'd always wondered why he'd never taken credit, never basked in somehow proving your presumptions about him wrong.

Twenty-nine year old you, freshly bonded to Lucien after he'd stumbled across your father's tavern, would be shocked that centuries later, she'd be spending more time alongside his cruel brother than Lucien himself.

You’d had an image of Eris back then—an image painted by Lucien’s words. It was accurate, to an extent. You never doubted your best friend’s judgment, never questioned the stories of cruelty and ambition that followed Eris like a shadow. He had, indeed, made Lucien suffer. There were reasons he disliked his brothers so deeply, reasons you knew were valid.

But you were curious by nature, always craving to understand things deeply, intricately. And Eris Vanserra called to you like a riddle from an ancient tale—dangerous, alluring, and impossible to ignore.

Above all else, you wanted answers. Throughout the years, Eris had never called upon your bargain, never asked for a favor, never even mentioned the price you’d paid for that first visit with Lucien. Not once.

It unnerved you.

"I don't understand you," you said, without realizing the words had fallen from your lips.

You hadn't intended on voicing it so blatantly. You weren't quite sure how Eris would respond, how he would interpret your words. It was a tossup, really, between a snarky response or something condescending, something to make you feel silly, naive.

Silence.

Eris shifted, turning his body to look out into the horizon before him.

"Not everything in life is meant to be understood."

You paused.

Eris was complicated. Unfortunately for you, you loved complicated. It wasn't boring. It made you think, made you wonder. You gravitated towards the eldest Vanserra more often than you'd like to admit. It was easier now, you decided, since Lucien's watchful eye wasn't around. He didn't have to witness your betrayal first hand, didn't have to see as you attempted to find something in his brother. You weren't sure what that something was, but you were certain you were searching for it. You had been for years.

"That's not true. I can understand things if I try hard enough."

Eris played idly with the rings on his hands. "You set yourself up for disappointment, Vixen," he said to the empty air before him, not turning to look at you. "Why does everything need to have a deeper meaning?"

You studied his face further. Noting the lines etched around his eyes and the set of his jaw. He was beautiful. You weren’t one to deny it—all of the Vanserras were. But where Lucien had been handsome, radiating a gentle charm that made you blush with every lingering gaze, Eris was more akin to the sharp edge of the season’s chill—striking, with an air of regal severity. His amber eyes alone seemed to hold the crisp, unyielding essence of autumn itself—beautiful, but not without its bite.

"It doesn't need to," you replied. "But it often does. I think details are important."

He didn't respond as he turned to face you. You glanced up at him, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed almost tangible.

"You've never lied to me," you stated. It was a statement more than it was a question.

"No," Eris replied.

His gaze didn't waver. You were almost impressed that you'd managed to hold his stare for so long. No one had ever looked at you like this before—so deeply, so penetrating. You understood now how his mere gaze could make people crumble, understood the rumors of how he only took his partners from behind, how he never made eye contact.

You pushed away the burning thoughts that arose.

"Is it true?" Your gaze bounced around his face. "Do you force your traitors to fight for your amusement? Place bets on them like animals?"

Eris's eyes flickered with something dark, but he didn't move.

"Do you think it is?" he countered.

You shook your head. You were certain of your answer, but you needed to hear his. "No. I don't."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Then it’s not," he said simply.

His expression revealed nothing more as you scanned his face. He didn't seem startled by your question, didn't seem confused at the context. He was aware of the rumors, of the stories circulating like the last morsels of food at a feast—passed around, savored, and eagerly consumed.

"It doesn't bother you? That these lies exist?"

A hint of confusion crossed his features, as if the question itself was somewhat absurd.

"Why would it?"

You blinked, momentarily retracting into yourself.

As a hound trotted up to Eris, his attention shifted. He crouched down, meeting the beast at its level. The gentle manner with which the hound regarded him, the affection in its eyes, stirred something inside you, deep within your gut. Your father had always said that a male’s nature could be understood through how animals responded to him.

Eris clearly cared for his hounds, and they, in turn, cared for him.

You found yourself wondering if, deep down, Eris was ever troubled by his reputation.

Lucien always had been.

He cursed the blood than ran through his veins, spent every moment trying to prove himself to be better than the legacy of his family— he did everything he could to avoid the curse of a wicked kin.

But then there was the male before you.

Eris, the rightful heir and firstborn son, was different.

You had always assumed he was bestowed with the legacy of the kingdom, that he was born for the role of High Lord, eagerly embracing the title and its accompanying glory. He seemed built for it, seemed to thrive under its weight.

You watched as more hounds approached him, watched as they surrounded him like a loyal fleet.

Could it be possible, you thought, that perhaps it wasn't all gifted. That it was possible Eris was burdened with the legacy of a Court?

You realized, then, that you'd never truly acknowledged that what he had become allowed for a kinder brother to grow in his wake.

The thoughts came faster, hazy, so many that your vision began to blur. It all made you itch, made you uncomfortable, made you overwhelmed and desperate for more.

None of this felt right.

You stared at Eris for a few more moments. When he stood up straight once more, about to turn toward you, you turned and ran to your horse.

You could feel his stare burning into you as you left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

reader panicking when she has deep intellectual thoughts about sexy man as he tends for his dogs. shes so me fr

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I’d like to dedicate this Chapter to Eric Kripke. This one’s for you. Bitch. Chapter Title from Under Pressure By Queen & David Bowie.

Word Count: 21.6k (I'm crazy. I'm on a roll. I haven't slept more than 4 hours.)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben get's a phone, and Victoria Neuman undergoes big changes. Usual warnings. Also somnophilia? Kind of? You'll see.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst, pining

Read on A03!

Chapter 12 - Chapter 14

This was going to be a very long, entertaining day.

You get up early in the morning, sneaking downstairs to grab the phones you’d left abandoned after last night’s fight and subsequent not-fight. Kissing. You’d kissed Ben.

A lot. 

It didn’t feel real. It had been real—you were sure of it—because you woke up on Ben’s chest and could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. It was real because his arms were wrapped around your waist, and his hands were slightly under your shirt so his fingers brushed your skin. He hadn’t done that before, touched you like that in his sleep. He’d mostly rolled up to you like a very large dog, never touching your skin unless you fell asleep with him already doing so. You’d never been sure if it was purposeful, subconscious, or just something you were overthinking. Just coincidental, simply a byproduct of how he’d essentially throw himself on top of you, tangling blankets and creating natural barriers between your bodies.

But this touch felt purposeful. This touch felt important. Careful and low on your back and different. It was undeniable evidence that last night had been real and not simply another dream.

It took a lot of effort to get out of bed. There was the physical game, where you had to remove yourself from Ben’s grasp without waking him up. It involved slow and measured movements, a lot of stopping and waiting when he shifted or snored a little too loud, and several reevaluations of your methods when Ben just pulled you tighter against him.

Then there was the mental game. Where the question wasn’t could you leave the bed, logistically, but did you even want to? Was it really worth it for two stupid phones? Here you had to convince yourself that you’d woken up to Ben holding you many times before, and this wasn’t any different. This was the same, really. Semantically. You’d be back soon anyway. It would barely be three minutes to go to the living room, grab the phones, and return. But he wasn’t making it easy. He kept bringing you closer, kept making disgruntled sounds when you got a little too far away, and his warm and rough hands on your skin made it hard to do anything that would take them away from you. At one point you were pushing yourself away from Ben’s chest—so close to being home free and able to roll out of the bed—and you brushed up against his morning wood.

You had to take a few deep breaths before you could start moving again.

After a tremendous amount of mental effort, some very strategic and well-timed squirming, and another quarter hour you’d gotten out of Ben’s arms and fallen down to the floor. You’d stood up slowly, tiptoed to the door, and all but ran down the stairs. The phones had fallen under the couch and between the cushions during last night’s events, and you managed to fish them out in only a few minutes. The mission was successful, because you’d gotten the phones in faster than you’d thought you would and Ben was still none the wiser to your absence. Sure, your phone was dead and Ben’s was covered in dust, but you had a charger on your bedside table and Ben would have to just be grateful he got a phone.

Now, you’re climbing up the stairs in soft steps, both phones in hand. When you open the door to your room you start a little, because you see Ben sitting up against the headboard and giving you a frown that borders on a pout, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Good morning,” you say cautiously, scanning his face as you lean against the now-closed door with your hands behind your back.

“Where did you go?”

You blink at Ben’s grumble. “Downstairs? I didn’t mean to wake you-” 

“Why,” Ben snaps, and you realize that—despite the sleep lingering in his eyes—he’s upright, hands clenched at his side, leaning forwards slightly. You can even hear something edged into his voice as he continues. “What the fuck were you doing.”

There’s a warm, humming feeling of need and comfort in your gut. It’s trying to move you towards Ben, to pull the frown off his face with your lips, but it’s not stronger than the spark in your chest. The little, bright desire that makes you feel light. That feeds off of Ben’s deep voice and surly behavior and just him.

“Aw,” you tilt your head at him with a mocking smile. “Did you miss me?”

His frown deepens. “No.” 

“I think you missed me. I think you’re grumpy because you woke up and I wasn’t there.”

His scowl is almost adorable. “I’m not fucking grumpy.” You raised your brows at him with a light, teasing grin on your face. “Shut up.”

You hum. “If you keep whining I’m not giving you your gift.”

“Gift?”

You give Ben a grin. “Guess who earned phone privileges.” You don’t wait for his response before pushing off the door and presenting the phone dramatically. “It starts with you and ends with cunt.”

You throw the phone to him, walking towards the bed as you do, and he catches it with ease. “Brat.”

“Just for that I’m not telling you what your passcode is.”

 “Passcode?” 

“Oh shut up,” you give him a flat look, dropping on the edge of the mattresses. “You know what a passcode is.”

“Phones don’t have passcodes. You open them with your face.”

You snort at Ben’s indignant expression. “Your face?”

“That’s how you fucking open yours,” Ben glances between the phone in his hand and you, holding his gaze as you slowly scooting across the bed to plug your own phone in. “I’m not a goddamn idiot-“

“Then open it.” You nod at the phone, clenched in Ben’s hand. “If I’m wrong, just open it.”

He gives you one last glare, tapping the screen roughly. The phone lights on, displaying a picture of his shield where it's still resting in your bathroom. Ben blinks at the screen, before looking up at you with a frown.

“That’s my shield.”

“I know,” you scan his face, trying to gauge his reaction without touching him. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to choose a wallpaper for Ben’s phone. A band logo felt weird, you’d considered just a stock photo of the Grand Canyon several times, and there was no way you were about to just put his face there. That would’ve meant scrolling through a lot of old Soldier Boy promotional photo shoots, and you had already missed him enough. That would’ve just been cruel to you. Eventually you’d decided the shield was a safe bet, and just taken a photo of it as a placeholder. He could change it later, but you still really wanted him to like it. Which was annoying, because it was just a photo, and he didn’t even know—nor did he have to ever know—how much effort had gone into it. You’d deleted several angles you deemed bad and shots you thought were blurry. He better like it, because that was fifteen minutes of your life you’d never get back.

Ben looked back at the photo with a frown. “How did you get that?”

You blink. “What, the photo?”

He grunts in affirmation, still staring at the screen.

“I took it?” You say slowly, and he looks up at you.

“With what. How did it get there.”

“With a camera? You’re not that old,” you meet Ben’s surly frown with a small smile, nudging his shoulder. A mistake, because his confusion runs through you with something rough and easy that sits in your chest. “You’ve definitely seen a camera before. You lived in front of cameras.”

 “Cameras are big. I’d have fucking notice if you had one.”

“Welcome to the wonders of modern technology,” you reach over his body, flipping the phone over in his hand and tapping the lenses. “Phones have cameras now.”

 You look back up at Ben with a grin, and find him still watching you. The rough and easy thing is growing strong through where you’re touching, and your faces are a lot closer together than you’d realized.

“So, um,” you can’t make yourself move, the intensity of Ben’s gaze locking you against him. “I took the photo. I can show you how-“ 

From the corner of your eye, you see Ben drop the phone just before he kisses you. His hand moves up, cupping your face to angle it where he wants you, and you let him. Because this is real, and it makes your head spin happily. There’s no noise in your head about trying to notice everything around you and fit it into a puzzle, no reeling about what Ben’s thinking. Because you’re falling against his back, leaning over his shoulder, and his lips are soft against yours. All you feel is Ben.

When he pulls back, he has a smug grin on his face. “I can’t believe it’s that easy to shut you up. I should’ve done this months ago.”

“Fuck you,” you try and snap, but the words come out breathless and lustful. “Stop trying to distract me-“

“You don’t seem to be stopping me,” he winks, and you knee him in the back.

“Shut it. Open the phone.”

He rolls his eyes, but picks it up from his lap. He manages to figure out that you need to swipe up himself, and you feel the tight frustration grow in him when the passcode display pops up. You wait several minutes, letting Ben glower at the screen as he aggressively taps it. That frustration builds in him and you feel it move to coil in your stomach from where you still lean over his shoulder. 

“Ready to admit defeat?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, hitting another set of random numbers with a rigid hand. The words too many failed attempts, try again in 1 minute cover the screen, and Ben’s grip on the phone tenses, enough that you’re surprised the screen doesn’t crack. “What does that fucking mean.”

“It means you don’t know the passcode, so the phone is locked for a minute. If you get it wrong four more times, all the data gets erased.”

He turns his head to glare at you. “Fix it.”

“Say you were wrong.”

“No.”

You shrug, “then I’m not fixing it.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Right back at you, Pretty Boy. Say you were wrong.”

“I was fucking wrong. Fix it.” His voice is low, gravely and annoyed with clipped words, but you can still feel the jagged affection in him. So you smile sweetly, grabbing the phone from his hand as the minute ends.

You’re hanging around him, body pressed right against his back, head resting on his shoulder, and arms reaching around his neck as you hold the phone up for you both to see. “It’s 696969,” you enter each number as you speak. “Easy to remember. I can set up the face thing for you later, if you want.”

He grunts, taking the phone back as you return it to his hand. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with it.”

“Whatever you want, I guess. I put in all the contacts you need, and downloaded some apps-“

“Apps? What the fuck are apps?”

“Jesus,” you mutter to yourself, fully realizing you’re going to have to walk Ben through this like he’s a toddler. “Apps are an abbreviation for applications. You put them on your phone for different things, like texting or entertainment or shopping.”

“I don’t need entertainment. I have you.”

His words, paired with the firm way he says them—like simple and obvious fact—make you feel warm and dizzy, but you just hum. “Then just don’t use it for that. It’s your phone, Ben, you do what you want with it.”

“What do you use it for?” His hand comes up to hold your arm around him as he frowns at you.

“My phone?” You have to clarify, because he’s so close and there’s no way he’s not touching you like that on purpose. Trying to make it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Fucking obviously.”

You whack his chest with your free arm. “Shut up.”

“Answer my question.”

You try to tune out how his hand is starting to rub against your arm, now certain he’s doing it deliberately. “I don’t know, what does anyone use phones for? Texting, music, photos, social media, porn-“

“Porn? You use this for porn?”

“Everyone does. There’s lots of porn on the internet, and the internet is on your phone.”

“What kind of porn?”

“All of it,” you shrug. “If you can think of it, it’s a safe bet it’s on there.”

“No,” Ben tugs you forward a little further, grinning cockily. “What kind of porn do you use?”

You gape at him like a fish. “I, uh, I dunno. Regular porn?”

“You can be more fucking specific than that,” his smile is growing, and you can feel his amusement growing with lust. You have to stop yourself drooling as you respond, because his hunger in your gut is making you thirsty, and his face is so unfairly attractive and distractingly close to yours.

“I am not sharing my porn habits with you, Ben.”

“Why the hell not?” He says your name and it vibrates through you. “I can promise you, it won’t be something I haven’t fucking seen before. If it’s porn, I’ve seen it.”

That makes you snort. “I doubt that.”

The hunger in Ben grows, moving down, down, down into you. “What kind of freaky shit are you into that I wouldn’t have seen, Sunshine?”

“No, that’s not-“ you take a deep breath, because you need to defend yourself, and that’s hard to do when everything feels hot and aching. “There’s like, a lot of porn on the internet. A lot. And I can promise you there’s some shit that even you’ve never seen.”

“Promise?” You can’t meet Ben’s eyes as he teases you, because you can feel the strength of his desire and that alone is making you feel faint and feverish. Looking at him would be counterproductive. “That’s a dangerous fucking promise to make, beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

He hums. “I think you need to prove it.” You don’t answer, still refusing to let yourself look at him, and Ben tugs at your arm slightly. “Can you fucking prove it?”

“It is not my job to prove that the internet has porn,” you manage to mumble, and he chuckles.

“Maybe not, but I think we’re a little fucking past only doing things for our jobs.”

“Fuck you.”

Suddenly, Ben is pulling you around his body, using his hold on your arm to spin you into his lap. His other hand moves up, running through your hair and pulling your head up to look at him, and his whole face is alight with almost ravenous hunger. You can’t look away, even if you wanted to.  He leans forward, until he’s just a fraction of an inch from you, and whispers, “All you have to do is fucking ask, and you can.”

You can’t stop yourself from grabbing his shirt, forcing him forward to close the space between you. This kiss isn’t quite as brutal as last night, but that doesn’t mean it’s not just as desperate. Your legs wrap around Ben’s torso, trying to bring him closer as he tugs at your hair to make your head move further back. His arm is back around you, pushing you up against him as he groans into your mouth, and it makes you moan in response. You can feel him, growing hard against your ass as he sucks on your lower lip, and you’ve never felt a devouring need as strong as the one in Ben that’s climbing through your blood and up your spine. It takes every single sliver and bit of willpower you possess to not just give into him, let Ben just keep going until every part of you is flooded with just him and his body.

It’s just lust, a small voice ringings in your head. Not what you have. Only lust. 

But that sharp and loud feeling in Ben’s chest is still there. It’s pushing against the lust, making it bigger. And he’s right here, and breathing raggedly into your mouth. His muscles are rippling around you, and his whole body is controlled like he’s holding himself back. He feels so good, and all he’s doing is kissing you. It would be so easy to make him feel like this, to return all he’s giving you by touching him where he’s pushing into your skin.

But if you do that, you’ll just be falling further. You’d already failed to stop yourself just tasting him in the simplest way. If you reached down, even if you were just giving him your hand, that would be another thing you’d need to have forever. Another thing that made you need more.

So when Ben pulls back, first just taking a sharp breath before leaning back down for one last, wet, heavy kiss before resting his forehead against yours, you have to chose your words carefully, picking them out and saying them slowly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?“ You ask, your heart still pounding in your ears.

“Okay with what?” He grunts, and you almost moan just from his voice. Deep and hoarse and just as needy as you feel.

“This being it right now. Not, you know,” you glance down pointedly. “More.”

“Of fucking course I am.” Ben sounds offended, like the answer no is unfathomable to him. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be.” 

“Because, uh,” you lean back a little to fully meet his eyes, your voice unsteady. “You’re you.”

He scowls, and you can feel his frustration return like a train crashing into you. Tight and sour in his chest. “What the fuck does that mean.”

It’s hard to keep looking at him. “You founded herogasm. 40% of what you say is some sort of innuendo. It’s not bad,” your own voice is anxious, because you think, know, that you want Ben—just physically, not to mention the other part—more than he wants you. If this pushes him away, makes him stop kissing you until your mouth is slightly swollen and you’re aching, you’d hate yourself for taking that away from you. “It’s really not. But I just, I can’t do the uh, bigger stuff,” bad word choice, because you can still feel him against your thigh and now all you can think about is shifting to bring him closer. “So I just, I just want to make sure this is enough. For you.”

The sourness is still in him, but his voice isn’t bitter or angry when he speaks. It’s almost stern. “You fucking trust me, yeah?” 

“Of course I do.” The words had barely left his mouth when you answer, your response almost instinctual.

“Then believe me when I say that I’m more than damn fine with this.”

You shake your head. “It’s more complicated than that, Ben-“

“No it’s not. I want this, you want this. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t also want to fuck you, because I’m not a damn pussy and I really fucking do.” He pushes his hips upwards to emphasize the evidence against you, and you have to bite down a whine. “You don’t have a goddamn clue how fucking bad I want you. But I’m not going to make you do a damn thing you don’t want.”

“I do want,” your words are weak, and you can’t stop them falling out of you. “Want you. I want you. But it’s just, I can’t-“

“Is this enough for you?” Ben says your name, scanning your face with that look that strings every piece of you apart for him to have.

No.

“Yes.”

He nods roughly, moving you a little further up against his chest. “Then stop asking stupid questions.”

Being so close to him makes every part of you a little higher—a little—and it’s easy to say, “make me.” 

Ben laughs, and it’s loud and smooth and comfortable. “Brat.”

You open your mouth to say something, probably, but any and all words are forgotten when his mouth slams back into yours. In only a heartbeat his arms tighten under yours as his knee is pushing you further upwards by your ass, standing up off the bed with one steady and fluid movement. You can hear the sound of his phone falling to the ground, but can’t really bring yourself to care because Ben’s dropping his head to your neck and sucking at it as he walks you backwards, sitting you with surprising care against the dresser. He’s running his hands up your back, into your hair, holding you still while his mouth finds your collarbone. Kissing a line across it and making you moan right into his ear-

A small, annoyed sound escapes your throat when he pulls back with a lazy grin. “Yogurt and toast?”

“Wha…” You trail off, your brain struggling to return to speech in the fog of Ben still holding your thigh and tracing a thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Yogurt and toast.”

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

Ben moves forwards just a quarter-step, and you’re made aware of the fact that he’s standing between your legs. “Breakfast. What the fuck else could I be talking about.”

“I don’t know, I just wasn’t thinking about breakfast.” 

“What were you thinking about?” 

You shove at his chest, and he doesn’t even pretend to be affected. “Fuck you.” 

“I could’ve guessed that,” Ben winks, and your whole face becomes heated. 

“You can’t just make that same joke every time I say that,” you manage to grumble. “It’s not going to get funnier.” 

“It’s not supposed to be funny, it’s supposed to make you horny,” he scans your body slowly, leaning into his, thighs pressed together, hands grabbing at his shirt. “And I’d say it’s doing its job real fucking well.”

“Fuck-“ you scowl as you cut yourself off. His eyes return to yours, glowing with the smug, satisfied feeling you can feel near his gut. You stick your tongue out at him as a backup plan, which immediately backfires because Ben nips at it quickly before kissing you one last time. It’s messy and long and the moment you completely give into it he’s gone.

“Get changed,” Ben tells you as he walks towards the hallway door. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“You’re a fucking tease!” you call after him, and his snort echoes through the house.

It only takes you a minute to change, time that is mostly spent collecting yourself and checking your now-charged phone. There’s a testing message from Mallory that you give thumbs up to, a simple hi from Kimiko you respond to with a smile, and a very long and detailed text from Annie about the details of Stand Edgar’s deal that you decide to read later in favor of Butchers more to-the-point words.

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

Soldier Boy’s blasting Neuman for Edgar. Need a day to set it up, then we move. Can’t let word get to her.

You pick Ben’s phone up from where it had landed just under the bed, and make your way downstairs. Ben is waiting for you in the kitchen, sitting at the counter and glaring at the doorway before he sees you. His mouth opens to say something when you come into view, but before he can you’re throwing his phone to his face without warning.

He catches it—You’d hadn’t bothered to worry about if he would, because you’d see him catch a knife out of the air while stomping up the stairs—and gives you an annoyed frown. “You changed too slow.”

“You didn’t give me a time limit,” you walk around to sit beside him as you speak. “Butcher says they only need a day before we move on Neuman.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Lovely. Open your phone.” 

“Why,” he grumbles, and you shrug.

“To prove you were listening and remember the passcode.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but glares down at the device in his hand. You watch in amusement as his face draws into a focused frown, angrily smashing the numbers on the display with his forefinger. When it unlocks he looks at you with a self-satisfied grin. “Fucking piece of cake.”

“Uh huh,” you give him a mocking nod and smile. “Now send a text.” 

“A text?” 

“If you’re such a tech savant, send a text,” your smile becomes genuine and toothy as his eyes narrow at your teasing. “One, simple fucking text. Whatever you want, to whoever you want.”

Ben holds your grin with his glower before glancing back at the phone. “Whatever I want?”

“That’s what I said. I can help if you ask very nicely.”

Ben looks back at you, his expression remarkably determined. “I can do it my fucking self. Shut up and eat your breakfast.” 

Only as Ben’s pushing the food closer towards you—attention now entirely focused on the phone—do you see it. He’s put yogurt on a plate, something that he’s done several times before and seems to have no interest in stopping, no matter how many times you tell him it’s just plain weird. There’s a slight improvement in that he has made some sort of attempt to separate the yogurt from the toast, laying the spoon between them in an attempted barrier. The result is almost nothing, if anything now you just have to deal with a yogurt-covered spoon, but it’s still confusingly heart-warming. The gentle feeling that grows in your chest is only spurred on by glancing at Ben’s plate—hardly touched and forgotten in front of him—and seeing that he has just a little less yogurt than you and that there’s no jam on his toast.

“Ben?” you ask slowly, and he grunts in a signal to keep talking. “Where’s your jam?”

“What the fuck are you talking about. Is this slang I’m supposed to learn, because I’d rather you shove a fucking bomb up my ass-“

“It’s not slang, dummy. Your literal jam. That you always put on your toast. Where is it?”

“We ran out.” 

You stare at your own toast, almost drowning in red jam. “And the yogurt?” 

“What about the yogurt?”

“You barely have any.”

He’s not looking up as he responds, “Out of that shit as well.” 

You blink at him. “We got groceries yesterday.” 

“It’s not my goddamn fault Mallory’s a terrible fucking shopper-“ 

“No, I don’t care about that. I can just text her later. Why’d you give me all the stuff?”

“You need to eat.” Ben’s answer is flat and bored.

“So do you. You have the metabolism of a hummingbird-“ 

That makes him look up. “A hummingbird?”

“They have famously high metabolism, they have to eat two times their body weight daily. But that’s not the point-“

“Why do you know that?” He sounds bemused, frowning at you.

You give a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, why does anyone know anything. Ben, you need to eat as-“

“You know so much weird shit.” You can’t read his tone, and have to fight the urge to touch him and find out if he’s annoyed or bored or amused-

Shaking your head, you manage to move on. “You’re trying to distract me.” 

“Maybe.” Ben’s shoulder nudges yours. “But it’s not my fault it’s real fucking easy to do it.” 

You’re gaping at him a little—he’s looking at the phone again with a thin-lipped frown of concentration—because all you felt when your shoulders connected, arms brushing, was simple affection. Pure and sitting in his chest and head like air. It’s making the small voice reminding you not to try and make this go further harder to hear, making you need to know more. You’re about to say something, push him for what he meant by his comment, why he put the extra food on your plate, maybe circle back to the question pounding in your head of why are you okay with just this. I’m glad you are, I’m unspeakably grateful, but why. You shouldn’t be. Fucking hell, Ben, I’m barely okay with this. I haven’t told you why I need this, not really, so why in living hell are you happy with just this?

But your phone buzzes before you can. 

Ben looks up at you with a pleased, cocky smirk. “Check your phone, Sunshine.” 

You pick it up off the table—angling the screen away from Ben so he can’t see his contact name—and glance up at his straight, self-satisfied posture and smug face before you read his text. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You look hot when your being annoying 

You read it a few times before you look up at him. “You used the wrong you’re. It should have an apostrophe, it’s a contraction.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“What am I supposed to say?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Thank you?” 

“Or that I’m hot. Return the fucking compliment. I worked hard on it, and texting is fucking stupid.” 

You roll your eyes. “Your compliment sounds like you're a teenager who just found out his dick wasn’t just for pissing.”

Ben frowns, picking up his phone again. You watch him type at little faster this time, still one finger at a time but with an almost zealous focus. Your phone buzzes again, and he looks up at you with an intense gaze and speaks with sharp words. “Read that one.”

You sigh, but do. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You are so beautiful that if I got to fuck you a thousand times it would only make you more beautiful so I’d keep fucking you forever 

You stare at it for a second, because it’s so shockingly sweet and graphic it’s making your body incredibly confused. Half of you is moved, and wants to kiss him gently and smile at him until he says something like that again. The other half want him to fuck you right here, then on the floor, then in the hallway, then on the stairs, and on and on until you’ve covered the whole house.

“Better?” He grunts, and you look up at him with a heated face.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” You give a dry laugh. “And here I thought I wasn’t your type.”

That makes him scowl, and his voice is an annoyed grumble. “What made you fucking think that.”

“For one, all my teeth are real and I can walk without a cane.”

Ben’s face becomes a little lighter. “I fuck one old lady in front of Butcher and Cocksucker and all you dumbass idiot pussies think I only fuck old ladies.” 

“No, I just think it’s hilarious.”

“Well, you’re not a fucking idiot,” He mutters, and your smile must look downright insane.

“And your compliment game is getting better by the second,” you bite into your toast, speaking through crumbs. “Am I allowed to teach you about internet slang? Or are you going to shove a bomb up your ass.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you fucking want, Sunshine,” Ben shrugs.

“So that’s a yes?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

You roll your eyes. “Ben,” you exaggerate his name in your drawl, leaning forward as you swallow. “If I were to try and teach you about the internet, would you listen to me or be a huge fucking baby about it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I am not a fucking baby-“ 

“I said huge fucking baby.” 

“Shut the fuck up. And you couldn’t make me learn about internet slang if you cut off my dick,” Ben winks. “Which, as I’ve been damn telling you, would hurt you more than me.”

“I don’t think you know how pain works,” you mutter, taking another bite. 

“My point still fucking stands.” 

You examine Ben carefully. “What if I asked nicely? Would you listen then?” 

“No.” 

“What if I said please.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Why not?” You pout. “What if I said it’s important to me?” 

Ben snorts. “This isn’t fucking important to you.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah, I do.” Ben leans forward until he’s only a breath away. “You just want to try and teach me shit. Even though it never fucking works out for you.” 

“Really?” You hum. “Because you just sent me a text on a phone, Pretty Boy. Could you do that in December?” 

“You sure think mighty high of yourself, Sunshine. I could’ve figured it out my goddamn self.” 

“I think highly of myself,” you smile, moving close enough that your lips are brushing Ben’s but never fully touching. “Because I’m right.” 

Ben grunts, staring at your mouth like he can will it to be closer. “Brat.” 

You don’t miss a beat. “Cunt. You know, I wouldn’t just teach you about slang. I could show you where to find the porn.”

“I thought that wasn’t your fucking job?” 

“It isn’t,” Neither of you will close that final gap. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat from Ben’s body, hear his breathing turn heavy. “But I can see a few ways in which it could benefit me.”

Ben’s eyes shoot to yours, and his voice is a growl. “Like what.” 

“I could tell you, or just show you,” you twist your face in mock concern. “But that would be teaching you and that never works out for me-“ 

You know you’ve won—the game you’d fallen into and the argument—because Ben kisses you. Rough and consuming, pushing his mouth to yours with a feral sound and holding your jaw with a firm hand. You let him pull you closer, relaxing into his touch and taste and smell and everything. It’s all just Ben. Picking you up with one arm, standing without ever parting from you, letting your hands scratch at his back and neck as he only kisses you more. You might be grinding against him because he groans, and his grip starts to crush you into his body. You whimper when he bounces you further up his body, making you angle your head down to stay connected to his mouth. To keep that hunger eating you in the best possible way. To keep the roar in your heart climbing up into your head and making everything so simply Ben. Coffee and salt and strawberries and Ben. 

He pulls back so abruptly you whine, and scans your face with narrow eyes. “We’re going to try something.” 

“How specific,” your grumble is breathless, but your glare at least feels strong. “Are you going to tell me what that means?” 

“If you would be patient for once in your damn life, I’d have told you already.”

“Fuck yo-“ His splits into a wide grin, and you know you didn’t cut yourself off in time.

“That’s actually a part of this, Sunshine.” Ben starts to walk out of the kitchen, still holding you slightly above him. “Aren’t you just a fucking genius.”

You frown at him. “I thought you were okay without-“ 

“I told you to stop fucking asking that,” Ben snaps, squeezing his grip around your waist and on your thighs. You can feel the resolved stone feeling running around you with that same bitterness from before. “You told me you trust me, prove it. Stop asking stupid questions about if I’m okay with this when I obviously fucking am.” He stops in the middle of the dining room. “Understood?” 

“Understood,” you mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes before kissing you again. This one is quick, and even though it only lasts a second you’re still burning when he pulls away. 

“Try again, like you actually fucking mean it this time.” 

Even as you wrinkle your nose at him, your voice becomes louder and you believe you more. “Understood.” 

“Good,” Ben nods, but still doesn’t let you go. “We’re going to do a new reward system.” 

You blink at him—your head still in a little of a daze—unsure if you heard correctly. “What?” 

“No more favors. You keep using them for stupid shit like TV and making me read.” Ben’s face scrunches in disgust at the very memory of books. “This will be more effective anyway.” 

“You still haven’t told me what this is. It might be dogshit. It might get you burnt a lot today.” Even as you snark at him, you have a feeling you know exactly what he’s talking about. And you will never tell him that he’s right. If this is going where you think it’s going, it will definitely be effective. 

“It’s not,” Ben lowers you down his body, not letting go until your feet are steady on the ground. “And I’m not too worried about burns. We’re not working on that today.” 

That catches you off guard. “We’re not?” 

“Nope,” Ben leans down to your eye level with a wide, cocky smile. “You’re going to sing, whatever the hell you want, and you’re going to control it.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can.” Ben’s tone is firm. “You will. Even if it takes us a hundred goddamn years, you will.”

You want to argue. You might just literally not be able to control it. That might simply be a part of the power. But Ben also said a hundred years. A hundred years that you would get to have him. So you can only mumble a protest of, “I really can’t control it now. I might, uh, make stuff happen you don’t want to see.”

“What could I possibly not want to see,” Ben says, giving you an incredulous look. “Sex? Death? Torture? Which of those do you think would make me gasp like a pussy grasping their fucking Sunday pearls.” 

“That’s not what I meant, you dick. It might be emotional. More than just lights and dancing. Intim-“ You stumble over yourself, because that word might be too much. “It might just be parts of me you don’t want to see.” 

“I think I’ll fucking manage,” Ben drawls, and you sigh. 

“Benjamin-“ 

“Don’t Benjamin me,” Ben snaps your name. “There’s not a thing you could show me that would make me walk away now. You burn, I burn. Not controlling this is something that makes you more afraid Homelander.” 

Not a question, but you nod nervously. “I guess, yeah.” 

“Then we’re going to make it better.” Ben takes a large step back, and you tilt your head at him. 

“You still haven’t actually told me what the new reward system is.” 

He winks, “do one thing on purpose, and I’ll let you teach me two things about my phone.”

“You’ll let me?” You scoff. “That feels like it’s more beneficial to you than me.” 

“Well, I’ll also suck on your beautiful fucking face until you’re begging me to fuck you. And then I won’t, because I’m a gentleman. And you wouldn’t be of sound mind.” 

“Cunt.” You grumble, and he just shrugs with a smirk. 

“Brat.” 

“How will you know I did something on purpose?” You cross your arms, wrinkling your nose at him. “I could just lie.” 

“What a good fucking point,” Ben says your name, grin never dropping. “This is why you’re the brains.” 

“I thought I was the beauty. You were very bitchy about that.” 

“You’re all three, and I’m the pimp. Tell me what you’re going to be trying to make happen.”

You scowl. “I don’t fucking know, I didn’t have time to prepare an idea-“ 

“It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just whatever pops into your damn head.”

“But-“ 

“We can fight about this all fucking day,” Ben shrugs. “Or you can say what you’re thinking in three, two-“ 

“Strawberries!” You blurt, glaring at him. “Fucking strawberries.” 

His brows raise. “Strawberries?” 

“You said whatever pops into my head. I’m making a grocery list, fucking sue me.”

“You think you can make strawberries work?” Ben watches you, trying to pick you apart with slow words and a stupidly handsome face. 

“No. Because this won’t work.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Can you fucking try to make it work?” 

“Maybe.”

“Then get a move on.” 

You cross your arms. “What the hell am I supposed to sing?” 

“Whatever the hell you want,” he grins. “But could you let me know ahead of time if my clone will be joining us?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, and Ben laughs, leaning back against the wall. “Are you just going to watch me?” 

Ben shrugs, still smiling widely at you. You told me to shut up. Deal with the consequences, Sunshine.

You stick your tongue out at him, flipping him off at the same time, and he just snorts. 

It takes you a full minute to choose a song. Can’t do a sex song, can’t do a romance song, can’t do any that opens up the chance of Fake Ben showing up again. Not when Real Ben is watching you on the other side of the room and might explode if his ego gets any bigger. Can’t do a song about pain or abuse, can’t do Smash Mouth, can’t do anything that makes you think of Homelander. You could do a recession-type pop song, but that just feels weird.

There’s—as there always is—an easy and obvious solution. Moon River. You know, at least in theory, what will happen. Ben knows the song, knows about what it means to you. Moon River, plain and simple. 

You don’t bother trying to look at Ben when you start. You have no interest in seeing him, seeing his reaction or demeanor as you do this. So you chose a scorch mark on the wall, glue your eyes to it, and sing. Quietly at first, but you find a rhythm and it builds until your voice feels clear and strong. The instrumentals kick in faster this time, smooth guitar and strings and cymbals. The changes to the world are a little different this go, however. You’re not in your childhood bedroom, but a distorted version of the safe house bedroom. The horse paintings are blurred, and it’s not clean anymore—small signs of both you and Ben scattered across the area in shirts and towels, a book on your nightstand and a ben’s supe suit across the bed—but it feels more comfortable. More natural. The sky does open again, flooding the area with light from stars that are a little closer than they should be, and you can feel a warm breeze moving in from above. You can smell pine trees and rain and coffee and the ocean and strawberries- 

Strawberries. The song is almost over and you haven’t even tried to make strawberries appear. You could write off the smell as your attempt, Ben doesn’t know how this works and you could likely sell it, but you want to win. You don’t want to trick him and come out on top. You want to win and fucking earn it.

Which is really annoying. Cheating is easier.

You try to focus. Strawberries. Maybe a field of them, maybe just a large vine of their flowers that climbs up the wall. Anywhere they want to be, as long as there’s strawberries. But no matter how hard you think strawberries. All across the room, or on the floor, or sprouting out of your face, strawberries, nothing happens.

The song draws to a close, and the world fades back into you and Ben in the dining room.

“It didn’t work,” you say flatly.

“Go again,” Ben pushes off the wall, walking to sit in one of the less-than sturdy chairs in the corner of the room. “We’ve got all fucking day.” 

You sigh. “It’s only 10:30.” 

“And we’ll be here until you get this.” 

“You’re a fucking cunt.” 

“You love it, brat. Go again.” 

You scoff, even as your heart becomes a little faster in your chest, and start the song over. This time, you glare at Ben the whole way, and nothing happens. 

“Again.” 

It takes seven hours. You don’t bother changing the song, half because you’re stubborn and half because it’s established a clean pattern of events. Bedroom, instruments, sky, wind, comfort. Over and over and over, slowly becoming more solid, the images and sensations in less of a haze. It’s not purposeful, so you haven’t won, but the practice is—annoyingly—making you stronger. Ben notices, you can tell by his stupidly pleased smirk, but doesn’t say anything. Around 1, he leaves the room with only a short order for you to keep going and returns with two bagels. He passes one to you wordlessly, and when you drop to the floor—eating with your legs crossed beneath you—Ben scoffs. But he also lowers himself to your side, inhaling his bagel with his knee pressed against yours and a hand on your thigh. You can feel that content, smooth and effortless in Ben’s chest. Flowing in time with that stone resolve wrapping around you, around him. Neither of you speak—you don’t really feel like you need to—and when you finish your bagels within seconds of each other, Ben squeezes his hand once before standing and returning to his chair.

It’s 5:30 when it happens. You’ve been at this all day, you’re tired, but you kept going and going and now, when your illusions have become a clear and perfect replica of the world, it happens. A single strawberry flower, sprouting in a glowing rainbow mist on the mattress. You can hear Ben’s chair squeak when he sees it, even if the sound only echoes distantly over your orchestra, and you almost stutter to halt in shock. But when you push forwards—voice becoming a little frantic, a little off-pitched—the plant grows. Overtaking the bed, covering the sheets and pillows until it’s all green leaves and blooming red fruit.

When the song finds its natural conclusion, you look over at Ben with wide-eyes. He’s staring at where the bed was, now dissipated into a colorful mist through the dining room. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” His voice is gruff, looking at you with an intense, unblinking stare.

“I don’t know, it just sort of happened-“ 

“Can you do it again?” 

“I don’t know, Ben.” You rub your face, your eyes becoming heavy. “I’m tired-“ 

He stands so suddenly it almost makes you start. Without warning Ben crosses the room, picks you up, and carries you out of the dining room.

“What are you-“

Ben cuts off your mumbled protest. “You look like shit.” 

“Rude,” you grumble, shoving his chest. “You’re the asshole who made me work all day.” 

“And I’d fucking do it again,” Ben holds you a little tighter as you climb the stairs. “You got stronger. You controlled it. And now you’re going to take a shower, because you look like shit.” 

“Again, that’s rude-“ 

Ben kisses your nose, pushing the door to your room open with his foot. “Beautiful shit. But shit.” 

“You’re real lucky I don’t kick your ass, Pretty Boy.” You huff, and Ben chuckles against you. 

“I don’t think you’ve got the energy to kick anyone’s ass right now,” Ben drawls your name as he sets you down on the mattress. 

“And whose fault is that?” 

Ben ignores you. “Go shower, Sunshine. I’ll bring up dinner, and then you’re going the hell to bed.”

“You’re a dick, Benjamin!” Your voice raises to a half-hearted shout as he leaves the room, and you can hear the amusement in his voice when he shouts back.

“Fucking shower!” 

You roll your eyes—sticking your tongue out at the empty hallway—but stand and walk to the bathroom. Not because Ben told you, but because you’re sweaty and gross and somehow sore despite only standing. It’s a tight feeling running along your muscles, stronger under your arms and circling your forehead, aching behind your knees. You take your time with the shower, letting steam fill the room and simply standing in the hot, gentle fall of the water until you hear Ben’s loud steps re-enter the room.

When you leave the bathroom, changed into a sleep shirt and your hair wrapped in a towel, Ben’s standing tall and rigid in the middle of the room. There’s a plate of something that might be spaghetti in one hand, and your phone in the other. 

“You got a text from Hughie,” he grunts, passing you both the plate and the phone. 

“Oh, what did he-“ you stop yourself, looking up at Ben with a gaping smile. “Did you just say Hughie?” 

“Shut up.” 

“No, no. You said Hughie. You’ve never called him Hughie.” 

“Shut up,” Ben mutters, stomping past you to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.” 

You set the plate down on the dresser, spinning to grab his arm. He stops, turning to look at you with a glare, and you push through the haze of his care and hunger and annoyance and there’s that strange tightness again- “Are you okay?” 

Ben scoffs. “I’m fucking fine. I’m not a weak-“ 

“Pussy, I know. You’re being grumpy again.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“Uh huh,” you raise your brows at him, letting disbelief coat your voice and cover your face. “Why’d you call Hughie his name?” 

“Am I not allowed to call people their damn names?”

“Not when you’ve only called them Cocksucker before.” 

Ben yanks his arm from you, taking a long, labored breath before grumbling, “That kid is the only one of those pussies who seems to genuinely mean it when he says shit. I can respect that.” He walks into the bathroom, glancing back at you once. “Read his fucking text.”

You stare at the door for a second after it closes before picking up the fork Ben had stuck into the spaghetti, taking a large bite as you open your phone. 

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

Are you okay? Just wanted to check after all the Tek Knight shit.

I’m really sorry about that. I should’ve pushed Butcher.

Kimiko wants to know too, but she threw her phone at The Deep during a fight and it broke. 

You smile softly at the screen. 

I’m good. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow for Neuman.

Tell Kimiko I hope she kicked The Deep’s ass. 

“Ben!” you call, knocking on the door. “The shower’s not on, I know you can hear me!”

“What?!” He snaps, opening the door just enough for you to see his bare chest. 

“Um,” you swallow, trying not to look further down. “Do you want ice cream?” 

He scans your face. “Vanilla?” 

“Sure, old man,” you grin, and Ben scowls. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

He starts to close the door, but you stick your arm forward to stop him. “Thank you.” 

“You fucking volunteered to get me the ice cream, I don’t have thank you-“ 

“No, you dumbass.” You whack what you can reach of his shoulder. Mistake, because powerful heat and desire and something loud that makes everything sharp pieces through you. “I’m saying thank you.” 

He frowns, leaning forward a little. It takes active effort not to drop your gaze. “For what.” 

“The food. Bringing my phone up,” you give him a teasing grin. “Sitting with me tomorrow for internet lessons.” 

Ben snorts, opening the door to stand fully before you. By some sort of miracle, his pants are still on. He lets go of the door for a second, cupping your face in his hands and he examines your face. “Fucking brat,” he mutters, and you scoff. 

“I’m starting to you’ve forgotten my name-“

He all but picks you up off the ground, and this time he’s gentle. Every part of this kiss is soft, from his mouth to his hold on you. It’s long and careful and so tender it might break you. When he pulls back, he draws circles along your cheeks, smirking down at you. 

“Two things,” he says your name in that low, deep way that makes everything spin a little. “You get to teach me two things. If you try to pull three on me, the sucking face is off the table.”

He retreats back into the bathroom, closing the door, and you’re left dumbfounded in the bedroom, swaying slightly to nothing at all.

You go down stairs after inhaling your spaghetti, returning with two bowls of ice cream. You sit on the bed as you eat your small helping, having put practically the remainder of the pint in Ben’s bowl, which is waiting for him on the dresser. Taking the infinite amount of time provided by Ben’s shower, you run over the day in your head, trying to pin-point what had changed. How you had controlled it. Any small shift in the late afternoon that you could use. Implement further. But it only devolved into you playing Ben’s words and actions on loop in your head. How easy he was touching you, like it was the most absurdly natural thing for him in the world. How quickly he had, you had, fallen into the habit of it. Because it was natural. It was easy and everything, and you’d expected it to feel different. To be tense, or awkward, a strange dance you didn’t know how to navigate.

But it felt the same. Your thirst was stronger, trying to take root in your brain and make you pull Ben into you, but everything else felt the same. 

And that was terrifying. 

You hear the shower turn off, a chew at your tongue as you stare at the door. The moment it opens, Ben walking through with wet hair falling across his eyes and a bare chest, you speak. Because if you don’t blurt out your words now, you’d just get lost in him and his stupid face and stupid body and he smells so good- 

“What if I fucked a dog?” 

Ben stops in the middle of the room, staring at you in confusion. “What the actual fucking hell are you talking about.” 

“You said there wasn’t a thing that could make you walk away. What if I fucked a dog?” 

“Did you fuck a dog?” 

“No, that’s just an example.” 

“Why the hell is that your example?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head nervously. “That’s not the point. If I did fuck a dog, would you that make you walk away?” 

He snorts, picking his ice cream. “Are you going to fuck a dog?” 

“No, but that’s not the point-“ 

Ben says your name, bumping your thigh with his as he sits at your side. “If you fucked a dog I would have a fuck ton of questions. But I wouldn’t walk away.” 

“Really?” 

“I might check you into an asylum,” he shrugs, taking a large bite of ice cream. “But I’d make sure it’s one that offers conjugal visits.” 

You give a flat look. “I would not attend conjugal visits with the man who checked me into an asylum.” 

“You’re the one who fucked a dog in this scenario,” he speaks through his mouthful, and a little ice cream dribbles onto his beard. “I’m just being a responsible, upstanding citizen.” 

That makes you laugh. “Oh, fuck off. You’ve never been an upstanding citizen in your life.” 

“I work for the CIA, Sunshine.” Ben says smugly. “Not much more fucking upstanding than that.” 

“We both work for the CIA,” you try not to stare at where drops of ice cream are smeared on his face. You want to lick them off, but you are also not moving first. “And, as I’ve told you before, we don’t actually work for the CIA. We don’t get paid.” 

“We need to fucking talk to Mallory about that,” Ben grunts. “We’re carrying her whole pussy fucking team on our backs. We deserve to be paid.” 

“What part of legally dead still isn’t getting through to you?” 

“The part that means we don’t get paid. It’s fucking exploitation.” 

You snort. “Yeah, you’re really suffering in this arrangement. All you get is a free phone, free internet, free food, and a free house.” 

“And you,” he winks. “Free you.” 

That makes your whole body loose and hot. “Shut up.” 

“Are you going to show me porn tomorrow?” He muses, ignoring you. “I’ve well fucking earned it.” 

“Fuck you.” 

This time it’s purposeful. This time you can’t stop staring at Ben’s full lips, covered in vanilla, or stop leaning into his study, warm body. This time you’re setting him up, dangling the bait in front of him, daring him to take it. 

He does. 

Ben tugs you forward until you’re tucked right at your side, his arm around your shoulders so his hand can tilt your mouth up to his. You don’t hesitate to lick his lips when they find yours, taking the sweetness of the sugar combined with just him onto your tongue. Saltier, stronger, better than anything you’ve ever tasted before. He bites your tongue lightly when you do it again, pushing back with his own until you whimper, your hand darting to his face to try and get more. You’re vaguely aware of Ben setting the ice cream to the side, and suddenly he’s pulling you down, then over his chest once he’s flat on his back. You slide one hand into his hair, letting your weight rest entirely against him and grinding down on his abdomen until he groans your name. His hand grip your hips, stilling you completely, tugging you down just enough that you can feel him hard, prodding into your thigh. 

Ben looks down at you, eyes hooded, voice gravelly. “If you don’t want more right fucking now, you need to stop that.” 

Nothing is more difficult than nodding, trying to get a hold of your body and not just letting yourself crash forwards. Letting Ben take everything. “Sorry-“ 

“Don’t apologize,” he snaps, moving one hand up your back until it’s holding the back of your head, running fingers through your hair. “Never apologize to me.” 

You smile at him, toothy and careless. “Even if I fuck a dog?” 

He snorts. “Way to ruin the fucking mood.” 

“It’s a talent.” 

Ben lowers your head onto his chest in a slow movement, and you don’t stop him. When he speaks, you can feel his voice everywhere. “I think it’s bedtime for you, beautiful.” 

“Just because I ruined the mood?” You mumble a protest, but he’s warm and secure around you. Making you sleepy. 

“Because you’re actively fighting to stay the hell awake. Sleep.” 

You try to keep arguing, but all that comes out is an incoherent hum. This might become a problem, how if Ben just kisses you and holds you, your body will listen to him more than it ever listens to you. But it doesn’t feel like one now. It just feels safe, surrounded by the smell of pine and still tasting vanilla.

Just before your eyes close you feel Ben press one last kiss to the top of your head, and that’s all it takes for sleep to find you. 

You’re on the floor of the dining room, Ben above you, your hands scratch his back as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Ready for more, Sunshine?” His voice rolls through your whole body, and you nod almost manically. 

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” 

He pulls back, watching you lust-blown eyes, and everything is life and green and good and Ben. “Beg.” 

“You dick-“ 

He leans down so his nose is bumping yours. “Convince me you want everything. Beg.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t. Try again.” 

Dignity doesn’t really feel important right now. Not when you want everything. Not when Ben is offering. Offering everything. “Please. I want this. I’ve wanted this. Just fuck me, you fucking cunt.” 

He chuckles, kissing around your mouth. “That’s not very nice.” 

“Please fuck me. I want you, Benjamin, you insufferable asshole. I want you, I need you, I-“ 

That’s all it takes. He’s falling back onto you, into you, almost eating you because he’s everything and why did you even bother trying to fight that. Who cares if you can’t go back. Why would you even want to? You just want him, and now you have him, and he has you. Right now he has you, and maybe he wants to keep you the same way you want to keep him. It’s just you and Ben, and nothing else is real except you and Ben. 

You’re woken suddenly by Ben bucking up into you. When you blink away the fog of sleep from your eyes, he’s fast asleep, still holding you with his head pressed back into the pillow. You’d somehow moved up his body in the night, finding your head on Ben’s shoulder, your face pressed into his neck. 

He’s not having a nightmare. There’s no building light or heat in his chest, no pain or distress moving from his body to yours. Only hunger. Vast and aching hunger that moves between your legs. A deep, growling sound leaves Ben’s mouth, paired with another rough jerk into the air and his hand fisting into the ends of your hair. Then he moans, right into your ear, and any lingering drowsiness is burned out of your body. Because that moan was long and borderline incoherent, but it sounded like a word. Like your name. And this time when he pushes his groin into the air you can feel him, long and hard, poking against the lowest curve of your ass. 

Someone is out to get you. Some hidden facet of the universe has an agenda against you, because Ben is having a sex dream and moaning—as far as you can tell—your name. Because his sex dream just woke you up from your sex dream. About him. And you’re still horny and wet and thirsty and he’s hungry and his cock is only inches from where your desire for him is becoming painful. And to top it all off, Ben’s holding you against his body with such a confusing combination of reverence and strength that not a single chance you can wiggle away without waking him. 

And if you wake him, there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from giving every single part of yourself to him. So you have to ride it out, unable to fall back asleep, as Ben continues to fuck the air against you. Making the most pornographic sounds you’ve ever heard, sounds that echo through your body from where you’ve pressed your face into his neck, and leave imprints in your gut and heart and head. This qualifies as torture, you decide, because right now if Ben asked you any question, you’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear. You’d do whatever he wanted you to do. Anything to make him give you relief. Anything to turn this into something you don’t have to endure, your brain running wild with fantasies of giving Ben everything and him offering you even half as much. 

You’re dizzy with lust and need—your thirst fed by Ben’s unyielding hunger—when he finally makes the best sound you’ve heard in your life and satisfaction crashes through your body like a wave. Ben’s grip on you loosens, and you frantically roll off of him, climbing out of bed and moving to the bathroom on long but quiet steps. Locking the door, you fall to the floor and shove one hand into your shorts as the other raises to your mouth, biting down to stifle your moans and breaths of Ben’s name. Your back presses to the wall—unable to care as the fire starts to seep out of your skin—fingers moving fast against your clit because there’s not time for anything else. Not when you feel like you’re about to explode, and the aftermath of Ben’s own desire is still planted in your body. 

You double over when you cum, knees shooting up to your chest as you stare at the floor, eyes wide and heart racing. When your basic cognitive functions return—the chorus of just Ben fading into the back of your head and the smoke clearing the room—you realize that’s never happened before. You’ve never felt someone’s orgasm like you’d feel anger or joy or fear. To be fair, you hadn’t been with anyone since the empathy had become a part of you. Except Homelander, and that didn’t count. 

Some evil, loathsome part of you still goes there though. Back to the lab, where Homelander would- 

You can’t think about it. But he’d done it. After the empathy. And you hadn’t felt it. 

You’d also never felt pain from someone. Not like when you touched Ben in a nightmare. But Ben’s emotions were weird. You couldn’t decipher them on a normal day. This probably wasn’t something to note or worry about. Not worth dwelling on at all, not when you were already tearing yourself apart trying to figure out what the massively repressed, ancient man-child in the other room wanted from you. What you could afford to give to the impossible, frustrating, perfect man you- 

It wasn’t something to worry about. 

Collecting yourself off the floor, you realized you couldn’t go back to bed. You were wide awake, and even if you weren’t Ben had definitely stained the sheets, enough that he’d notice when he woke up. Guilt started to stab into you, because Ben might not have meant you to be there. That was private, his, and you’d just jerked off to it. You’d tell him. You had to tell him. But not right now. When he woke up.

So you move silently back to the bedroom, grabbing your phone before creeping into the hall and descending into the living room. You fall onto the couch, reading the text from MM, telling you that they’ll be at the safe house around noon. You give it a little thumbs up, and try to distract yourself from how remarkably horny you still are.

It’s another hour and half before Ben wakes up and walks down the stairs, his hair messy and eyes blurry as he squints at you. 

“How long have you been up?” Ben’s voice is hoarse, and he’s not moving to the couch, standing rigid at the foot of the steps. 

You shrug, playing it off in the way you’d been rehearsing over and over. “A few hours.” 

“What woke you up?” He’s still watching you intently, looking slightly more awake.

“Um,” you can’t lie. It feels wrong to lie. You couldn’t have moved or stopped it, but he needs to know you had been there. “You?”

“Me?” 

“You had a, uh, a wet dream? And weren’t letting me go, and I would've tried to go, because you were asleep, but you’re really strong and weren’t letting me go. I’m-” 

“Don’t say sorry.” Ben grunts, and finally walks to sit beside you. “And I don’t give a shit. It was about you anyway.”

���Oh.” You hadn't expected him to just say that, but you probably should’ve. “That’s doesn’t mean I get to just stay though-”

“Maybe not. But you didn’t chose to, and I don’t give a shit.” Ben leans back into the couch. “I’d fucking tell you if I did. And it sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”

“I’m still sor-”

Ben says your name firmly. “You told me. That’s what fucking matters. No lies.”

You nod slowly. “No lies.”

“You done freaking out?”

“I wasn’t freaking out-”

“I get why you were, with the shit that happened to you.” Ben shrugs. “But if I was worried about you seeing that I’d sleep in my old room.” Suddenly his eyes narrow at you. “It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

You answer fast. “No, I uh,” you shake your head. “No.”

“If it did, you need to fucking tell me. I know you don’t want more-”

“I didn’t mind,” you mumble. “Really. Promise. And it’s more complicated than not wanting more. I kind of, um.” No lies. “I liked it.”

His eyes flash. “Liked it?”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t fucking apologize.” Ben looks you up and down. “What did you like?”

“All of it.”

“How much.”

Stupid fucking handsome man and his deep voice that makes you answer. “A lot. I um, took care of myself?”

His voice is somehow deeper, and he won’t look away from you. “Took care of yourself?”

“In the bathroom-”

“Did you cum?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Ben grins, and you think he’s going to keep pushing. “I changed the sheets.” 

“Oh?” You feel a little lighter—it’s a little scary how easy this all is, how fast you feel better—and your tone becomes teasing. “Without me asking? Who even are you?”

“Shut up. I’m not making you change my cum sheets.” 

You poke Ben’s side with your foot, grinning and the disgruntled sound that escapes him. “You kiss a man a few times and suddenly he’s doing chores without being a bitch.” 

Ben catches your foot, yanking you forward until your legs are across his, leaning down until his smirk is hovering above your slack jaw. “You didn’t kiss me just a few times. You just told me you liked me dreaming about you. And as far as I recall, I owe you one more. But a pussy fucking bitch wouldn’t give you what you want, Sunshine, would he?” When you don’t respond, just staring at him in some sort of horny shock, Ben leans just slightly forward. “Would he?” 

“Cun-“ 

Ben catches your words with his mouth, and you gain just enough control to snap at his tongue between your teeth. Not biting it off, but drawing enough blood that the metallic taste overtakes the taste of Ben. He pulls back with a hiss, and you cross your arms across your chest. 

“I told you I’d do that, Pretty Boy.” You taunt. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, but you can feel his sharp amusement, and his hand has dropped to hold your thigh over his legs. Tracing small patterns on your bare skin. “You’re a piece of fucking work,” he says your name in something that sounds like awe, and something is leaving a mark inside you, on your ribs. 

“Would you have me any other way?” He snorts. “Fucking hell, no.” 

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and if the world ended right now you wouldn’t mind. Not when this is everything. “Good.” You lean back into the armrest of the couch, your eyes never leaving Ben’s. “Ready for your lesson?” 

“Right now?” Ben raises his brow at you. “It’s 8 in the goddamn morning.”

“And we have a long, busy day of internet lessons and hitting Victoria Neuman with your special sauce ahead of us. Might as well get started now.”

Ben glares at you. “Don’t call it special sauce."

“Hm,” you pause in mock thought. “No.”

“Brat.”

You knee his chest lightly. “Go get your phone, Benjamin.”

With a series of low grumbles and a strong pout on his face, Ben removes your legs from against him and stands, disappearing back up the stairs. You hum to yourself, foot tapping as you wait for his return, and don’t even realize what you’re doing until Ben’s voice sounds behind you. 

“Why does the whole room smell like vanilla.” 

You feel the flush of your face, freezing as you tip your head back to meet Ben’s eyes. “I dunno.” 

“Did you leave the ice cream out?” He walks back to his seat, glaring at your legs pointedly until you press them to your chest. “Because I could smell it upstairs as well.” 

You give an over exaggerated sniff. “Well, it’s gone now.” 

“No it’s-“ Ben pauses, scanning your body and face as his nose twitches. “You were fucking singing.” 

“Maybe,” you mumble, hugging your knees. “Shut up. Did you get your phone?” 

Ben scoffs, but shakes his hand, displaying the phone. “Your faith in me is astounding,” he grumbles your name, and you sit up a little with your shrug. 

“I know you’re being a dick, but yeah, it is.” You lean against your bent legs. “Open the phone.” 

He starts to enter the passcode, but looks up at you with a frown. “Are you going to stay over there?” 

“Um,” you blink at him, and shake your head slightly. “No?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just waiting expectantly for you to scoot over to him. Only once you do—thoroughly invading Ben’s space as he pulls your legs back up, making you half on his lap and half pressed into his side—does his attention return to the phone. When he opens it—after three tries, but who’s counting—Ben looks at you with a cocky grin. “That it?” 

“Nope,” you lean over him, taking the phone from his hand. “We’re going to learn about cameras.” 

“I fucking know about cameras-“ 

“Well, you clearly don’t, because you looked like you were going to have an aneurysm about your lock screen yesterday.” You swipe through the phone, keeping it in Ben’s view, and find the camera app. “That,” you point to the screen, finger hovering over the small, gray button. “Is the camera.” 

“That’s not a fucking camera,” he snorts. “That’s a button.” 

You roll your eyes. “And what, Benjamin, do you think the button does?” 

He scowls. “Shut up.” 

“Answer my question.” 

“Camera.” Ben’s answer is through gritted teeth, but—as far as you can tell from where you’re touching him—his annoyance is more for show than anything else. So you keep going, holding the phone a little higher up. 

“Press it,” you prompt him, shaking the phone slightly. 

Ben does so, his aggressive tap of the screen pushing your hand back slightly. The camera opens up, flipped to the self-view, and Ben starts backwards. “Why the fuck is it doing that.”

“It’s the front view.” 

“Why in living Christ would you need a front-view.” 

“For selfies.” 

“Selfies?” 

“Photos of one’s self,” you explain, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice. “It’s pretty self-descriptive.” 

“Why would you need that.” 

You sigh. “It’s not something you need to do. Most of this isn’t going to be stuff you need to do. It’s for fun.” 

“For fun,” Ben repeats slowly, still sounding like he doesn’t believe you. 

“Yep. And I think you’d like selfies. You get to pose, and stare at yourself. It’s right in your wheelhouse, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffs. “What would I do with them?” 

“Whatever you want,” you shrug. “Jerk off to them, print them out to hang around the house, post them on social media-“ 

“Social media?” 

“I am not explaining social media to you today,” you say flatly. “Cameras are already going to be a lot.” 

“It looks pretty fucking simple from here,” Ben grumbles, pulling the phone from your hand. “That big white button takes the photo, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah,” you try to push down a giggle as he presses the button repeatedly, taking a large amount of selfies from a low angle. He’ll still probably look hot in all of them, because he’s Ben and life is unfair, but that doesn’t make it less funny. “But there’s more to it.” 

He stops, giving you a frown. “What the hell do you mean more.” 

“Turn the camera.” 

Slowly, Ben angles the phone so you’re looking at your reflection on the display. 

“No,” you reach up, returning the screen to face him. “Turn the camera. It can switch between the front camera and the back camera,” you tap each one in turn for emphasis. “So switch them.”

He does. After almost eight minutes of swearing under his breath—and very much not under his breath—Ben finds the right button and flips the camera around. From there you make him stand, take several photos of random objects until he can do it without totally messing up the focus, then teach him about zooming. That takes a whole half hour, because he can’t seem to figure out how to get any sort of middle ground, either going all the way out or zooming in for far you can’t even tell what he took the photo of. You forgo filters, that’s a battle you don’t have the energy to take on today, and instead focus on flash—how to turn it on and off, when it needs to be on and off—and video. That one takes two hours. 

You start to wander the house, taking him to the kitchen and explaining how food photos work. 

“That’s fucking insane,” Ben mutters as you conclude your small speech. “Just eat the damn food.” 

“You’re still going to eat the food, this is for the memory of it. So you can look at it later and remember hey, that was a fucking delicious quiche.” 

“That dumb.” Ben snapped. “Just remember shit with your fucking brain.” 

You snort. “You’re going to hate Instagram.” 

“What the hell is Instagram.” 

You don’t explain or elaborate, simply linking your elbow through his and pulling him into the hallway, up the stairs. From there you spend a while in the bedroom, making Ben take photos in lower lighting to practice the flash and teaching him about mirror selfies. He takes that one a little easier, though it results in a lot of sex jokes about how mirrors are for two hot people fucking and how he’d be open to showing you what that means, beautiful, if you say please. 

When you enter the bathroom, making Ben take about three or four videos of the running water, you notice he keeps looking at his shield. Before you can ask what he’s doing it for, he looks at you in the mirror, “How did you put it on the screen?” 

“The shield?” You ask for clarity, even if you know what he means. He grunts, and you continue. “I set it as your wallpaper.” 

“How?” 

You pause, narrowing your eyes at his reflection. “If I show you, it doesn’t count as part of my winnings, because you asked.” 

“Fine,” Ben thrusts the phone into your hand. “Just do it.” 

You do, Ben hanging over your shoulder as you navigate to settings, then wallpaper, then slowly walk him through the functions. Eventually—after another hour or so of pointless photos and videos—you feel a little more comfortable in his capabilities, maybe even bordering on confident, and tug him back to the couch. 

“That’s thing one,” you take the phone back from Ben’s hand, scrolling to the app store. “Ready for thing two?” 

“That was more than one fucking thing,” he snaps. “That was a least damn fifty.” 

“Nope. That was just cameras. I get one more.” 

“Not if I just walk the hell away-“ 

“Ben,” you look up at him. “Just trust me. You’ll like this.” 

He scowls, but waits for you to return the phone to his hand. Ben’s eyes scan the screen for a second before he looks back up at you. “What the fuck is this.” 

“Candy Crush.” 

“What.” 

You scoot a little closer to him, resting your head against his arm as you look up at him with a smile. “It’s a game. Senior citizens everywhere love it.” 

“I am not-“ 

“Yeah, you are.” You dismiss him, drumming your fingers against his skin. “It’s a silly, stupid game with bright colors and an addictive design. It kills time, and-“ your grin grows until it’s toothy and covering your face. “If you spend money, it’s out of the CIA’s pocket.” 

“Spend money?”

“In-app purchases. You fail a level, pay to try again.” 

Ben says your name, a long drawl that sits in your stomach. “I am not playing this shit.” 

“Sure,” you shrug. “But if you change your mind, the app looks like that.” You return to the homescreen, pointing at the logo. 

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t fucking use it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

You grin. “And I said okay.” 

“Brat.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Cunt.” 

Ben drops his phone to the side, attention entirely scorching through you. “You want the second half of our deal?” 

“Yes,” you answer a little too fast, and your voice is suddenly weaker. You blame Ben’s lust, climbing into you, intertwining with your own, sitting happily in your gut and above your lungs. He’s almost on top of you, and you can see just a slight ring of green in his eyes. Watching you, coming closer. Closer, still closer. But not close enough.

You don’t think Ben could ever be close enough. Not when he finally touches you, not when he sucks on your mouth and tongue and neck like he’d promised, not even when he fully rolls on top of you. Because everything in the world is nothing compared to this. Just Ben. Touching you. Close, but not close enough. 

Your alarm from your phone barely breaks through your ears into your brain, because all your thoughts are being overtaken by just Ben. 

“Fuck,” you manage to pull back, grabbing your phone to turn off the repetitive ringing. “We need to get changed.” 

“Changed?” Ben frowns, still holding you. “The hell do we need to get changed for?” 

“Neuman,” you start to stand up, but Ben’s hand falls to grab yours, keeping you from leaving the couch. “The Boys will be here in like twenty, Ben. Probably more like ten with Butcher’s lack of respect for speed limits and police.” 

“And you’re coming on this one.” He scans your face, hand squeezing yours. 

“Yeah, I should be. We shouldn’t really be in public for this, so I don’t see why I can’t.” Ben nods, but still doesn’t let go, so you squeeze his hand back. “I’ll be fine. But we need to change.” 

That seems to get through to him, because he nods, rising from the couch. Still holding your hand. “You change first. I need to shit.” 

“Charming.” 

You start to move away, but Ben doesn’t let go of your hand, spinning you around into his chest. This last kiss is long. He’s taking his time, pulling you closer and closer, not stopping until you whimper, and then pulling back with a smirk. “You have seven minutes.” 

It takes a few seconds of blinking away the burn under your skin to understand what he means. When you do, though, you shove his chest and stomp up the stairs, yelling over your shoulder. “You’re a piece of shit, Benjamin.”

He doesn’t respond, but when you look back for only a second, he’s smiling after you. A toothy, content, easy grin that makes his eyes sparkle and face look like all he’s ever felt is joy. Never any cold Russian nights or sour, consuming revenge. Just joy. Warm, simple joy. 

You’ll never tell him. He’d hate that you used the word sparkle, because he’s a fucking man and not a glittery pussy, but it’s accurate. And it doesn’t matter, because you’ll never, ever tell him. You’ll keep him close, but not as close as you want, and touch him until he grows bored of you, and taste phantoms of vanilla and salt and strawberry forever. You’ll have him like this, and make it be enough. This will be enough. Because Ben is everything, and you don’t deserve everything. He wouldn’t give you everything anyway. 

So you’ll have this. You’ll have his joy and let it carry you everywhere. And that will fucking be enough.

————

Ben had never been so satisfied by just kissing. He didn’t think it was fucking possible to be this satisfied by just kissing. But it was Her. And she was perfect. Kissing Her was perfect. Hell, he’d even start to develop a strategy for how to kiss her. Ben was filing away every sound she made—the loud whines and quite whimpers and moans, and this one thing where she’d make a throaty, high noise that was half his name and half a squeal—and spending a lot of time trying to figure out what triggered each and every one. If he sucked on Her neck she’d make a hissing, needy sound. If it was her chin, the noise would become more breathless and she’d lean into him. If Ben was gentle the sounds were soft, when he let himself go just a fucking fraction, they were loud and desperate. 

He wasn’t going to stop until he had it all memorized. Until he knew every single thing that made Her tick and why. The why was fucking vital, because if Ben could figure out why She liked something, he could find a million new ways to do it. And keep going and going until She was singing for him, and he could play Her perfect mouth—and whatever part of her perfect body she’d offer him—like the symphony it was. Where he was the only conductor in the world that wasn’t a pretentious fucking pussy, because his orchestra was the most fucking perfect woman to ever exist. And then, unless She made him, he wouldn’t ever stop. 

Because kissing Her was addicting. Ben had thought that touching her was like a drug, but She had an annoying habit of making Ben look like a fucking idiot. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in touching Her before, he could’ve seen this coming. He could’ve realized that just brushing against Her skin was better than any kiss he’d ever had. He could’ve put together that kissing Her would feel like goddamn sex, hot and wet and savage, the most natural thing he’d ever done. Kissing Her made the Thing so big that it was no longer just in Ben’s chest. It was all over him, rooted where it had always been but burning through the rest of his body. 

If just kissing Her did this, made Ben become overtaken with an almost pious desire to keep going forever and ever, actually fucking Her might kill him. 

And he was okay with that. It would be a worthy death. 

She was still upstairs, and Ben could hear the even pattern of Her heartbeat as she changed, hear the shuffle of clothes falling to the floor and moving in the drawers. She was probably fucking naked up there, just a floor away. The Thing wanted to go to Her, just fucking offer more. But he wouldn’t because She didn’t want more right now. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why, not when She was kissing him back and fucking cumming to the thought of him. The Thing had almost exploded inside him when She’d told him that, and Ben was trying to just pretend he was very calm about it and not trying to figure out ways he could keep Her doing that without hurting her or pushing her away. Even if he couldn’t figure out why that was needed. She seemed almost as desperate for more as Ben was. Not as desperate, because that wasn’t fucking possible. Ben felt pretty fucking confident in saying that nobody had ever been this filled with need for another person in history. But everything he was throwing at Her, she was throwing back at him. Like she always fucking did.

Because She was perfect. 

The door to the safe house opened before She returned to the living room, and it occurred to Ben that he still needed to shit. That he’d been standing at the base of the stairs like a goddamn idiot, waiting for Her like a fucking puppy. He could only be more pathetic if he was right outside her door. If a single member of the Pussy Brigade commented on it, asked why he was just standing around like he was lost, he’d tie their tongue into a knot then cut it out. 

He heard Butcher first. “You two twats ready to go?” 

Ben glared at him down the hall. “Obviously we’re fucking not.” 

“Did MM not fucking text like I told him to?” Butcher’s eyes raked over Ben, taking in his sweatpants and wrinkled shirt. 

Wrinkled from Her, the Thing hummed in content. She did that. 

Ben told it to shut up. He was well fucking aware of that, and didn’t need the Thing to remind him, because it made him hard and he had no interest in explaining a boner right now. 

MM entered the safe house, saying Her name as he walked to stand beside Butcher. “Got the text. She even gave it a reaction.” MM scanned the living room with a frown. “The hell is she?” 

On perfect fucking clue—Ben was starting to think She had a fifth power that made her do everything better than anyone had any damn right to—the bedroom door opened and She descended down the stairs. 

“Ben, where the hell did you put my sunglasses? Because I definitely left them on the dresser and they’re not there anymore-“ She froze at the bottom of the stairs, spotting Butcher and MM. “Uh, hi.” 

“Afternoon, Love.” Butcher looked between Her and Ben, a taunting smirk tugging at his lips, and it took everything in Ben not to step forward and block Her from Butcher’s gaze. “You ready to rumble?” 

“Um,” She looked at Ben, addressing him solely, and it made the Thing swell through him. “Can you change fast?”

He nodded, shrugging. “Whatever.” Ben started to push past Her, but she caught his arm. Still only looking at him. 

“Sunglasses?” 

Ben knew exactly where those sunglasses were. They’d fallen under the bed yesterday morning when he’d swept half the dresser's contents to the floor to put her down, and he’d seen them this morning when he’d been cleaning up his mess. He’d cum in his sleep like a fucking teenager, and moved faster than almost any other point in his life to cover it up. But Ben didn’t say any of that out loud, because he didn’t know if She wanted the Pussy Brigade to know that he’d been eating her mouth like a feast for two days and fifteen hours. Ben didn’t give a shit if they did, he’d fuck Her in front of them if it made it clear to them that he wasn’t going anywhere. But this seemed like the type of thing She’d care about, and he didn’t want to risk her taking away what she’d given him so far. 

So he just said, “I think I remember where I put them.” And retreated to their room. 

Ben gets the sunglasses first, propping them back up on the dresser where he won’t be able to miss them when he leaves. He shits quickly, puts on his supe suit—if the Pussy Brigade had a problem with that they could suck his dick—and stared at his shield in the bathroom for a second before deciding to leave it. He’d just be blasting Neuman and leaving, no damn point in taking it where Cocksucker would try and pick it up again. He checked his hair in the mirror, and failed to not think about fucking Her against it. Or fucking Her on the bed. Or on the stairs. Maybe in the kitchen. Defiantly during training, and if she ever made good on Her promise to show Ben porn-

He grabbed the sunglasses and stormed back downstairs, shoving the Thing and his desires to let it—Her—keep consuming him deep, deep into him. Ben had a fucking job to do. She’d still be there to dream about fucking until the bed broke after. 

She was waiting for him, talking to Kimiko in silence with a smile splitting her face. MM had left, Butcher was watching them with a look like he’d tasted shit, and Ben didn’t think anyone would miss the asshole if he somehow got slammed, face first, into the wall over and over. Especially as She heard Ben’s step, looking up at him with the same smile she needed to stop giving him. The smile that Ben couldn’t stop himself from reading as oh, it’s you! Hello, Benjamin. I adore you and if you wanted to give me every fucking piece of you, covered in blood or not, I’d take them and keep them safe. 

But that didn’t sound like Her at all. For one, she’d never say every fucking piece of you. She might say every part of you, or all of you, good, bad, and ugly, but she wouldn’t say every fucking piece of you. Ben would say that. 

Also, She didn’t think that. She gave a shit about him, Ben knew that much, but she didn’t adore him. Not like he adored Her. She didn’t want to keep him safe, not like Ben needed Her to be safe. The Thing would keep every bloody and dark part of Her safe if she’d give them to him. It would hold them carefully until she wanted them back, and then care for the place She’d put them until they returned. 

So Ben just took Her smile as best he could when he wasn’t allowed to pull it up to his mouth, make it open into a moan, and keep going and going up he learned what Her orgasms sounded like.

If She ever let him hear what her orgasms sounded like, it would take a damn miracle of God to stop him from hearing them every single fucking day.

He took Her smile, returned it with his own, and passed her the sunglasses. “Found them under the bed,” he grunted, stopping at Her side. 

“Oh,” She frowned, opening them and placing them on her brow. “I thought I checked there.” 

“Did you say the bed.” Butcher’s voice was mocking and cold, but lined with what Ben pinned to be genuine, morbid curiosity. “Are you two sharing a bed.”

Ben is more than fucking ready to cut out Butcher’s tongue. Maybe stab him in the throat to finish damn the job. But She speaks first. 

“Yeah, we are. Because some of us have nightmares about Homelander raping us and feel safer when we're not alone. So shove it up your ass.” 

The Thing was boiling in Ben. Overflowing with warmth and power for Her. Her, Her, Her, it chanted, making the continuing conversation a little fucking hard to hear. Ben could see Her look at him from the corner of her eyes. Giving him the tiniest smile that says thank you for not leaving me alone. 

Ben couldn’t stop himself smiling back. Wouldn’t fucking dream of it. You’d be lost without me. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. You can’t even use a phone camera without my help. 

Not anymore, he winked. And you have not one to blame but your damn self for that, Sunshine. 

She stomped on his foot, hard enough that he sort of feels it, Ben had to cover his snort with a cough. 

Butcher wasn’t fooled. “Something funny, Gov?” 

“Not to you, you boring fucking pussy,” Ben drawled. “Are we going to actually fucking go or just wait for you to jerk yourself off?” 

“Suddenly his head is in the game,” Butcher sneered. “I wonder what fucking did it?” His gaze turns to Her. “Can I borrow your tits, Love? I think they might be bloody magic.” 

“Stop being a cunt, Butcher,” She snapped, just in time to stop Ben throwing Butcher out the door hard enough to break the Pussy-Mobile Ben could see in the driveway. “And Ben’s right, we should get moving.” 

Butcher muttered something that sounds like horny fucking bombs shouldn’t be allowed within ten miles of each other, and stalked out the door. Kimiko signed something to Her with a smile, and she signed back with a laugh. Before Ben could even ask what the fuck they’re saying, Her arm was linked through his and she started telling him. 

“Kimiko says my tits are magic, but not as magic as Butcher’s. Which proves he’s just a dick, because if it was about magic tits he’d have the game on lock.” 

“Huh,” Ben frowned, trying not to let the Thing overtake him with thoughts about how right it feels to be walking with Her looped against him. “I wouldn’t have pegged Butcher to have good tits.” 

“That’s because you,” She bumped her shoulder with his. “Are very unobservant.” 

“I’m incredibly fucking observant. I clocked your tits the first time we met.”

“I remember. You weren’t listening to Hughie because of it. Which is very unobservant.” 

“It’s not my fault you have such good tits,” Ben grumbled, savoring the way Her heart flutters as she tried to fight her giggle. Looking up at him with fucking perfect, happy eyes. “They’re fucking weapons of war.” 

She fully snorted. “I think your compliments are regressing again.” 

Ben rolled his eyes, just offering a hand to steady Her as she climbs into the van. She takes it with a grin, and doesn’t let go when Ben follows her.

“What’s the plan,” She asked, and the Thing hummed as she still didn’t drop Ben’s hand, pulling him into his place at her side. 

Butcher’s answer was short, clipped. “Blast Neuman.” 

She blinked, her body tensing against Ben. “And?” 

“That, um, that’s kind of it,” Cocksucker said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t have a huge window before Vicky gets word we’re up to something-“

She raised a hand, and Cocksucker fell silent. “What, exactly, did you use yesterday for.”

“Getting Neuman’s schedule,” MM answered this time, voice stronger than Cocksuckers but still lined with fucking guilt. “Those motherfuckers run a tight ship, we needed to know where she’d be-“

“But you didn’t come up with a plan. For when you would, inevitably, know?” 

Nobody answered this time, and She gave a long sigh. Her heart was fast in her chest, but it wasn’t the stumbling, unordered beat that signals fear or panic. It was moving because Her brain was moving, her perfect face scrunched in thought, the machine that was her brain practically audible. The Pussy Brigade even had the nerve to look afraid, despite the fact that She wasn't smoking or making the air of the van wave with heat.

She turned to Kimiko—sitting at the French Prick’s side—who was the only one watching with plain curiosity. They started to sign at each other—the French Prick jumping in to add something that was received with a frown and a nod—and when She turned back to the group her face was drawn in determination. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” She said slowly, staring ahead at the wall with her brows knit. Ben pulled Her a little closer into him, and her heart slowed slightly. “We’re catching Neuman at home. Off-guard. Do we know if other people live in the building?” 

“Only some other bureaucrat fuckers,” Butcher answered from the front, and Starlight shook her head. 

“And their fucking families, Butcher.” 

“Okay,” She nodded slowly. “Frenchie, you burned off your fingerprints a while ago, right?” 

“Oui,” the French Prick holds up his hands for display. 

“Good. You’re going to pull the fire alarm. Hughie,” Her sharp gaze turned to Cocksucker. “I need you on the cameras. Make sure everyone is out. MM will be on standby if there are stragglers. Kimiko and Annie will cover the exits, Butcher,” She paused, and Ben could hear the gnaw of her lip. “Scratch all of that. Annie can’t be seen participating in this, she’ll be on the cameras, and Butcher will take her spot on the exits. Hughie, you’ll come with Ben and I. I’ll cover you when he goes off.”

There’s a second of silence, and then the van erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about how he’s not going to cover a bloody exit, he wants to see Neuman get fucked. Starlight whining about how she doesn’t want to be useless in the van, she can really help. Cocksucker fretting about how he’s not sure this is a great idea, and might be better staying on the cameras. The French Prick and Kimiko are silent, exchanging a look with subtle gestures at Her, Kimiko’s face determined, gestures growing and growing until the French Prick raised his hands in surrender. Finally, MM seemed to be trying to do what he considered reasoning with Her, that they couldn’t just go off with only Hughie, what if you need backup, what if Soldier Boy goes nuclear. 

Ben opened his mouth—ready to defend himself, defend Her—but She caught his eye and shook her head. I can handle this. 

He gave a curt nod back, not hiding the scowl on his face. Fine. But don’t be fucking nice to them. 

Shut up, Her eyes narrowed at him before she turned back to the group, who was starting to tire themselves out like the fucking children they were. When the van was quiet once more, She spoke in a clear, bored voice. 

“Butcher, we’re not killing Neuman, so you’re not invited. Annie, I know you want to help. Staying here is helping. You’ll draw attention, and if the public realizes you’re associated with Soldier Boy then we’ll be assfucked. MM, Ben won’t just go nuclear. We’ve got it under control. Hughie, you’re the only one Neuman won’t try to pop on sight. She’ll talk to you, and it’ll be good to have a friend there for when Ben’s done. And-“ She sat up a little straighter, glaring around the van. “If any of you don’t like my plan, I’d love to hear your alternatives.” 

“How do you plan on getting into the bloody building?” Butcher snapped. “They ain’t just gonna let you in.” 

“Fire escapes are very real, dumbass.” She retorted. “And Hughie can do that shit where he makes their cameras play the same video so they don’t see us. We’ll corner Neuman, then Frenchie will pull the alarm, and Ben will go off once it’s just us and her and Zoe.” 

“What’s your escape plan?” Starlight asked, giving Cocksucker a worried look. “You two can just leave, but Hughie-“ 

“I can redirect Ben’s blast. Make sure it doesn’t destroy the building. Hughie will be fine.” Ben stiffens beside Her, because as far as he fucking knows she’d only done that once. And it had ended in Her small and sad and broken, curled up into herself and alone. 

She has you this time, the Thing reminded him. If this goes to shit, she’ll always fucking have you. 

“Are we good?” She was asking the van, and Ben saw each of the fucking pussies nod. “Awesome.”

She leaned back into Ben, and he frowned down at Her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “You can redirect my fucking blast?”

She shrugged, starting ahead with empty eyes. “Hypothetically, yeah.” 

“And you’re going to risk Hughie’s life on hypothetically?” Ben didn’t give a shit about Cocksucker’s life, but She did. And Ben gave a shit about Her life, about her not breaking down and tearing herself apart about accidentally killing Cocksucker.

“It’s an educated guess, Ben.” She muttered. “It’ll work. It has to. And don’t you dare say-“ She shot Ben a glare, voice dropping into her dogshit impression of him. “But what if it doesn’t.” 

Ben scoffed. “I wasn’t going to fucking say that.”

“Yes, you were. You always say that.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben felt the Thing become a little lighter as a smile tugged at Her mouth. “Do I have to do anything in your plan besides hit Neuman?” 

“You have to not be a dick to Hughie, let me do the talking, and stand around looking pretty until I tell you to be useful,” She counted her answers off one by one on her fingers, and Ben chuckled. 

“Be pretty, huh?” 

“Don’t fish for compliments, Benjamin,” She teased. “It’s unbecoming.” 

“If I give you one, will you give me one?” Ben leaned forward a little, fighting every instinct in his body to soothe Her lips where she’d been chewing them with his tongue. Any marks were gone, so he couldn’t really fucking pick out where She’d been biting, but that just meant he’d have to cover all his bases. Soothe Her whole fucking mouth. “A quid pro quo?” 

She hummed. “Good use of quid pro quo.” 

“Is that a fucking yes?” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “You look very nice in your stupid suit.” 

“Nice?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she gave him a flat glare. “Handsome.” 

“Say the whole thing.” 

“My compliment better blow Shakespeare out of the fucking water,” she muttered, but looked up at him with batting eyelashes and an over-sweet voice. “You look very handsome in your stupid fucking suit. Your turn.” 

Ben started to stall, because he couldn’t think of anything good enough for Her. “We should get you a suit.” 

She snorted. “I am not wearing a costume.” 

“It’s not a fucking costume, Sunshine, it’s a uniform.” 

“If I can buy a semi accurate version of it at Spirit Halloween, it’s a costume.” 

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween.” 

“It’s a costume store. Stop stalling and give me my compliment.” 

Ben sighed, scanning Her face and trying to make the Thing come up with something a little more fucking poetic than you, you, you it’s just you and if you liked we can go right fucking now and leave forever and I’d keep you safe and happy and smiling and fuck you wherever the hell you want whenever you want because it’s you and you’re perfect. 

“You…” Off to a remarkably fucking shit start. “Are…” Ben was going to find it, if it was the last thing he fucking did. He was going to keep staring at Her until he figured out exactly what say that would make her face all flushed and thighs clench and heart stutter.

“I am?” 

“You’re good.” Ben settled for simplicity. Poetry was not his fucking strong suit, and that was more than okay by him. 

“I’m good?” She frowned at him, and for a second Ben wanted to bring her into his chest, just show Her what he’d meant. He couldn’t show her with just words, and she was frowning, and just fucking showing her would be more fun anyways. It would make Her smile, make her understand, he was goddamn sure of it. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“You’re good,” Ben repeated, shrugging and his hands fisted to stop himself from grabbing Her. “It’s pretty fucking simple. Your pretty brain should be able to figure it out.” 

“Well congratulations, you’ve stumped me. Can you please be just the tiniest bit less cryptic.” 

“You’re good.” 

“Yeah, I heard you the first two times-“

“No,” Ben said Her name, too lost in trying to make her get it to stop himself grabbing her chin. “You’re good. You’re not what these pussies say you are. You’re a lot fucking more than whatever Homelander thinks you are. You’re better and more important than any politician, supe or no. You’re good.” 

“Oh,” She whispered. “Thanks.” 

Ben’s hand was still against Her jaw, and she wasn’t pushing it away. If anything She was leaning into it, keeping Ben touching her as if she didn’t care about the useless fucking onlookers either. And She was staring at him, keeping Ben with her just by fucking looking at him, her mouth just slightly open. If he wanted Ben could move his thumb up, trace Her perfect lips, see if she’d let him push it into her- 

Someone who Ben was going to have to kill later said Her name, and she looked away. 

The Thing was so absorbed in Her, in try to get back to Her, that Ben missed the entire first half of the conversation. MM was crouching in front of Her—holding onto the seat at her side to steady himself from Butcher’s fucking terrible driving—and talking without sparing Ben a glance. 

“-Even if Butcher doesn’t tip her off, what makes you absolutely so goddamn certain Soldier Boy won’t blow his load early and screw us,” MM was hissing, and Ben scowled. 

“I never fucking blow my load early-“ 

She caught his eye, her own flaring slightly to tell him, Shut up, Pretty Boy. 

Ben grunted, but fell silent with a clenched jaw, shooting Her a look of, I don’t blow my load early. 

She rolled her eyes. Now is not even remotely the time to start measuring your dick. Let me handle this. 

Fine, Ben winked. But you’re welcome to help me measure it later. 

She kicked Ben’s shin, addressing MM. “He won’t. I’ve been working on it.” 

“You’ve been working on it?” MM scoffed. “Just because you’re all smiley and gross at each other doesn’t mean you can control this motherfucker’s PTSD.” 

“No, but my fucking healing powers mean that I can get rid of it.” 

MM blinked at Her, glancing quickly at Ben before speaking in a low tone that Ben, for one, didn’t fucking appreciate. “You've been healing him.” 

“Allegedly,” Ben muttered under his breath, and earned a dirty look. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve only blown your load once this month. So shut the fuck up.” She looked back at MM. “He can control it.” 

“It’s your ass if he can’t,” MM snapped, and She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m aware. He can.”

Both Ben and the Thing were big fans of how clear and final She said those words. Ben could control it, that was it, no room for discussion. She had faith in him, she trusted him, and if anyone had any issue with that she’d defend him. Just like Ben would defend Her. To the ends of the fucking earth, until they burned together.

“Do you know where we’re putting Neuman and Zoe after this?” She was still talking to MM, but Her voice had raised enough for the whole shit team to hear. “She can’t just keep being Vice President. Homelander will kill her.” 

“About that,” it was Cocksucker who answered, rubbing his hands together like an anxious pussy. “They’re going to the safe house.” 

“The safe house?” She repeated with a frown. “Like, our safe house?” 

The Thing liked Her use of our. Ben did too. He did not like where this conversation was headed. “I am not living with Head-popper and her kid.” 

“Well, I’ve got fantastic fucking news,” Butcher drawled, standing and turning as the van came to a halt. “You ain’t gonna. You two,” Butcher pointed between Ben and Her. “Will be moving.” 

“To a different safe house?” She asked, and Butcher shook his head with a snake-like grin.

“To the new FBSA HQ,” Butcher winked at Ben, and Ben wanted to sew his eye shut. “In Jersey.”

“I am not living in fucking Jersey either,” Ben snapped, and She sighed. 

“Why not a new safe house?” 

“Because.”

She snorted at Butcher’s useless fucking response. “What, does the whole CIA somehow only have one safe house?” 

“Listen,” MM grunted. “You’ll get an apartment. Just a little fuckin smaller than the house. You’ll have more freedom-“ 

“We both still won’t be able to leave the house.” She pointed out, and MM shrugged. 

“But you’ll be able to fuckin order food. Get packages delivered without texting me or Mallory about it. Have visitors. Anything you order will have to be under a fake name, and visitors will have to be approved, but it’s more than what you have now.” 

“Why now? That building was finished in January, I saw it on the news. Why move us now?” 

“Because,” Butcher crossed the van with a shrug. “We bloody said so. Now are we ready to get a move on? Time is of the essence in this shit plan.” 

“Okay,” She took a deep breath. “Hughie, can you-“ 

“On it,” Cocksucker gave Her a thumbs up, starting to tap of his little laptop. “I’ll let you know when I’m good.” 

“Thanks. Just so we’re all on the same page, Butcher, what are you doing?” 

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Watching the exit. Why am I getting fucking cold called-“ 

She ignored Butcher’s whiny bitching, and turned to Starlight. “Annie?” 

“Stay in the van, make sure the building’s clear.” 

“MM?”

“Standby to help Annie get people out.” 

“Frenchie?” 

“Fire alarm.” 

She signed at Kimiko, who responded with a smile. 

“Good,” She looked around the van, and Ben realized she hadn’t asked him. 

Because She trusts you, the Thing rumbled. She isn’t worried about you fucking it. 

“Any questions?” She asked, and when she was met with shaking heads she nodded. “Hughie?”

“We're good. Annie, do you need help-“

Starlight shook her head, taking the computer from Cocksucker. “I’ve got it.”

Cocksucker gave a small nod, and turned to Her. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Ben could hear the tap of Her fingers in the familiar pattern, her heart speeding up as she took another breath. “We’ll go first. Annie, find exits for Butcher and Kimiko, and send them fast. If Neuman sees us coming we need to have our asses covered. I’ll text when Frenchie’s good to pull the alarm.”

She stood on unsteady feet, and Ben’s arm shot out instinctively to catch her around the waist. He was rewarded with a grateful smile and Her heart slowing ever so slightly. “Ready?” 

The question was for Ben. He knew it, because She wasn’t looking anywhere but him and her voice was soft. “Fucking born for it.” 

She huffed a small laugh, dropping the sunglasses onto the bridge of her perfect nose, and Ben didn’t bother to remove his arm from her as he stood. The Pussy Brigade’s confused and judgmental stares could go suck each other off if they wanted. She gave a small gesture to Cocksucker, who left Starlight’s side to follow them out the van and into the cold alleyway. 

They were silent for a second as She took in the tall brownstone building before them. Cocksucker kept shooting them both anxious fucking pussy looks as Ben held Her against him—using his body to block her from the chills of the wind—and would look away frantically whenever Ben held his gaze. 

“Ben,” She looked up at him with sharp eyes, over the frames of her sunglasses. “You need to throw us.”

“What?” 

Ben and Cocksucker spoke in almost perfect unison, though Cocksucker’s words were more panicked in comparison to Ben’s disbelief. 

“I am not fucking throwing you,” Ben snapped Her name. 

“You have to,” She looked back at the building, pointing as she spoke. “We can’t go through the emergency exit, alarms will go off. That,” Her finger moved to the iron stairs and grates lining the building. “Is our best bet. You can jump, me and Hughie can’t.” 

“Then I’ll go first and lower the damn ladder.” 

Cocksucker nodded. “I second Soldier Boy, that’s a better plan.” 

“No,” She elbowed Ben’s ribs, shaking her head. “It’s not. That’s something people might notice. We need to leave as little a trail as possible. Ben’s going to throw us. Me first, then Hughie, then he’ll jump.” 

Ben wanted to argue—tell Her that there had to be a better idea that didn’t involve Her just being chucked into the fucking air—but She had already detangled herself from Ben, and was moving towards the building. So Ben followed, Cocksucker stumbling behind him, and stopped at Her side. 

“This is fucking stupid, Sunshine.”

“Uh huh,” She looked up at the fire escape. “Whenever you’re ready, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffed, but picked Her up carefully, locking his arms firmly around her body and balancing on one leg as he propped up a knee. “Don’t die.” 

“Couldn’t if I tried. Go.” 

Ben squeezed Her slightly, then threw Her up. The half-second before she grabbed the rails—where she was suspended almost fucking cartoonishly in the sky—sucked all the air from Ben’s lungs. But She was fast, finding a grip and hauling herself onto the platform with only a small grunt that was carried away by the wind.

“All good!” She called down. “Send Hughie up.” 

Ben looked at Cocksucker, whose face was like a fucking deer about to be mauled by a wolf. 

“Uh, I’m not sure this is a good idea-“ 

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, walking to pick the gangly fucker up. “I’m not going to fucking kill you. And she’ll catch you.” 

“But-“ 

Ben grabbed Cocksucker under his arms and tossed him into the air with a yelp. As promised, She grabbed Cocksucker’s hand in the air, holding him steady until the little pussy got a hold on the bars himself and pulled up to Her side. Ben sighed, rolling his neck and trying to measure the jump as he backed up. 

“Ben-“ 

Her call was cut off as he lept into the air, landing pretty damn perfectly on the platform. Right in front of Her. “Yes?” He winked, tone mocking, and She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“Show off.” 

“You fucking told me to do that.” 

“Fuck you,” She turned away, and the Thing started brainstorming ways to get her back later for those words. “Hughie, what floor is Neuman on?” 

“The top one, I think.” 

“You think?” 

“I’m like 98% sure.” 

She sighed. “Then we better start climbing.” 

The walk up the stairs was silent, Her leading the way, Ben at the rear, and Cocksucker moving in small, quick steps between them. The wind was biting, howling in Ben’s ears louder and louder the closer they drew to the top, drowning out the sound of Her heartbeat. When they stopped, one level from the roof, She crouched below the window. Cocksucker followed suit, and Ben gave Her a flat look.

“I’m not-“

“Benjamin, get your ass down before I make you.” 

He glared at Her, only because this is important, and hunched to the floor.

“I’ll go in first. Ben, I’m going to have to keep my eyes on Neuman, so you need to text Butcher.” 

“I don’t have my fucking phone-“ 

She tossed it at Ben wordlessly, raising Her brows. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, and She stuck her tongue out. 

“Ready?” 

Ben grunted, and Cocksucker gave a barely perceptible nod. 

She exhaled through puffed lips, moving the sunglasses into her jacket as she looked at the window. “Here we fucking go.” 

Neuman’s apartment was nice. Cozy. If Ben didn’t have a fucking job to do, he’d ask for her interior decorator. Especially if he’d understood MM correctly and was going to be getting his own apartment soon. To share with Her. Their apartment. 

Would she like that carpet? The Thing was fixated on a deep blue, stupidly damn fluffy carpet thrown across Neuman’s floor. No, it’s blue. Fucking pussy color. She’d like the texture though- 

Job to do. Ben had a job to do. The Thing needed to shut the fuck up, because Ben had a job to do. 

A job that walked right into the hallway they were standing in. 

Neuman’s eyes widened, talking a stumbling step back as she yelped. “Hughie? The fuck are you doing here? In my home?” Nueman’s eyes darted to Ben, then Her. “With Soldier Boy and the Anomaly?” 

“It’s complicated,” Cocksucker rubbed his neck nervously. “You should, uh, you should get Zoe.” 

“Stay the hell away from my daughter. Whatever you’re doing here doesn’t fucking involve her.” 

“Vicki-“ 

Cocksucker’s pleading words were cut off by Her, tone firm. “Neuman, we’re not going to hurt you, or Zoe. We just need you both. Now.” 

Neuman laughed disbelievingly. “You’re not here to hurt me, but you brought Solider Boy?” 

“We’ll explain,” She answered, voice calm even as Her heart started to pick up. “But please get Zoe.” 

“Fuck no-“

“Neuman.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t pop me or Ben. You won’t pop Hughie. I swear we aren’t here to hurt you. Go get Zoe.” 

There was silence for a second, Ben could see Neuman looking around frantically, trying to find a way out where there wasn’t one, and eventually giving in. “Zo, baby? Can you come here please?” 

A girl, couldn’t be more than fucking twelve, entered the hall. “Mom, what’s-“ The kid’s words died with a gasp as she saw Ben, Cocksucker, and Her in the hall. “Mom?” 

Neuman moved the kid behind her, holding her hand with a white-knuckled grip. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“What is Hughie doing here, with Soldier Boy?!” The girl's voice was frantic, and Ben could hear her heart race. “And Homelander’s girlfriend? What the fuck is happening-“ 

“She’s not Homelander’s girlfriend,” Ben hissed, and She slapped Ben’s arm. 

She’s just a kid, Her glare said. And you said you’d let me do the talking. 

You’re not Homelander’s anything, Ben glared back. She should fucking know that. 

Just a kid, Ben. She gave the phone in his hand a pointed look. Text Butcher that we’re good. 

Ben scoffed, but opened the damn phone to tell Butcher that the French Prick needed to move as Neuman continued to comfort her daughter. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I can’t explain right now, but we’re going to be fine. I just need you to stay behind me.” 

“Mom-“ 

“Zoe,” Cocksucker said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, or your mom. We just need to talk.” 

“About what?” Neuman hissed. “I’d have taken a meeting, you didn’t have to resort to breaking into my home, Hughie.” 

“Well, uh-“ 

“And I fucking know you visited Stan on Monday. So don’t lie to me and say you’re not up to something-“ 

Neuman was cut off as a wailing, deafening siren rattled through the building. Turns out the French Prick moved impressively fast. Ben had barely hit send two seconds ago. 

“Ben,” She mumbled, eyes not leaving Neuman’s fearful expression. “Can you break the alarms?” 

Ben nodded with a grunt, walking to the red light above them as smashing it with his fist. That seemed to be enough, he could hear everyone’s breathing and heart again, so he returned to Her side. 

“Hughie, tell me when Annie says we’re good.” 

Cocksucker nodded, pulling out and fidgeting with his phone, and Neuman took a shaky step back. 

“Don’t try and leave, Neuman,” She said, voice tired and face bored. “I really don’t want to hurt you, so please just wait.” 

“Wait for what?! What the fuck is happening?!” 

She sighed. “As you probably figured out, we cut a deal with Edgar. He’s going to help us out, as long as we talk you and Zoe out of the game.” 

“Out of the game?” Neuman’s face twisted in determination. “You lay a hand on me, on Zoe, and I’ll blow Hughie’s brains up.” 

Cocksucker paled, “Vicki-“ 

“I phrased that poorly.” She addressed Neuman firmly, standing her ground. “We’re removing the V from your system. So you don’t have to be a part of this shit show. The CIA will keep you safe, and we’ll get what we need.” 

“No,” Neuman shook her head, taking another step back. “Fuck no. You’re not touching me, or Zoe, and whatever Stan said he’d give you I can give you as well-“ 

Neuman’s words choked him her throat as fire spread slowly along the floor. Controlled, careful flames that blocked the exits and never rose above a foot. 

“We’re not asking.” She said softly, almost fucking apologetic. “It might hurt for a second, but you’ll be fine. I promise.” 

“Um,” Cocksucker said Her name, looking up from his phone. “We’re ready.”

“I’m sorry,” She said to Neuman, and Ben knew She fucking meant it. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest, her breathing was labored, and her face was full of guilt when she looked at him. “Now, Ben.” 

Ben called the drums, pulling them as fast as he fucking could into his chest, into time with his heart. It was building, growing louder and brighter, and he angled his chest at Her right before everything fell in place inside him, and the world exploded. 

The Thing roared as the bomb caught Her, even if every conscious part of Ben knew she’d be fine. She was strong, she could handle it, she’d fucking told him to hit her. But that didn’t stop the Thing from trying to climb out of him, to get to Her as she floated off the ground, surrounded in golden light and fire with her eyes shut. Ben couldn’t hear Her heart, couldn’t read her face, couldn’t give shit about Neuman trying to run or Cocksucker backing up to the window. It was just Her, burning alone, impossible to reach. Impossible to help. 

She went out. For only a second all the light died, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat again. Then Her eyes opened, fucking wild and glowing, and everything exploded. Light shot from Her chest, hitting Neuman and Zoe head on, moving through their bodies as she levitated further off the floor. Ben even fucking stumbled, because the world shook. The ground moved and everything seemed to come to a screeching halt, suspended in time as She grew brighter. Time only resumed when the light—as fast as it had appeared—died, and She collapsed to the floor. 

Ben fucking dove to catch Her, grabbing around her chest right before she hit the floor. Her eyes were open, and Ben could see the exhaustion in them, hear the slowing of Her heart as the energy drained from Her body. He heard Cocksucker run past them, checking on Nueman,  but didn’t look away from Her. 

“Ben,” Her voice was weak, breathless. “I’m fine. Make sure it worked.” 

“I’m not fucking leaving you-“

“All you have to do is turn your head, check that Neuman and Zoe are alive, and tell me,” She gave a soft laugh. “Fucking drama queen.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben muttered, but glanced over his shoulder to where Cocksucker was standing awkwardly as Zoe climbed her feet, Neuman pulling her into a hug. “They look fucking fine.”

“Okay,” She sat up slowly, not trying to leave Ben’s hold as she called over him. “Hughie, are they-“ 

“We are,” Neuman answered. “I can’t feel it. Your blood or hearts. Zo?” 

The girl’s hands moved to her face. “They’re gone.” 

Neuman nodded, and looked back at Her. Ben could hear the race of Neuman’s heart, almost smell her fear. “Now what?” 

“Butcher and Kimiko are on their way up,” Cocksucker said, glancing at his phone. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” 

“What about my life,” Neuman shook her head. “Zoe’s life-“ 

“You both wouldn’t have fucking lives if Homelander decided you weren’t useful anymore,” Ben snapped. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Neuman looked at Ben with a frown, her eyes scanning over how he was still holding Her, keeping her carefully upright. “What did Edgar offer you.” 

“Help,” Ben hissed. “And it's not your fucking problem now.” 

“We need to move,” She tugged at Ben’s shirt, voice even quieter than before. “Homelander will have noticed this, we need to go-“ 

Ben nodded roughly, and scooped Her into his arms. Ben turned to Cocksucker as She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tell Butcher you pussies better fucking haul ass to get Neuman out.”

Cocksucker nodded nervously. “Um, where are you-“ 

“The van. We still have shit at the safe house, we’ll need to get it before you move us. But I’m not fucking waiting here until Butcher arrives.” Until Homelander arrives. Not when She’s about to pass out. Ben spoke the last words through gritted teeth. “I did my job. Do yours.” 

Ben didn’t wait for Cocksucker’s response, climbing back out of the window and studying the drop down the alley. He could just jump—it would be faster and they’d both be fine—but it would be loud. Crack the pavement. 

Get more unwelcome attention. 

So Ben climbed down the stairs, keeping Her secure against his chest. He jumped down from only the last platform, making sure Her hold on him was firm before did he, and moved to van in long, fast steps. He vaulted through the doors, dropping against the walls—not bothering with pointless fucking greetings to MM or Starlight—and listened to Her breathing fall, becoming slow and easy as her eyes drooped. She passed out in Ben’s arms, and he rubbed small circles on Her back because he fucking could. Because they had done it, She had done it, so Edgar would come through and she’d be safe.

It took a few minutes, but the remainder of the team—now joined by Nueman and her daughter—returned to the van. The door slammed behind them and MM took off, hightailing it away from the alley, from where Homelander would surely arrive any minute. But Ben didn’t give a shit, didn’t bother to listen to Butcher, Starlight, and Nueman talk about next steps, because She was here. Holding Ben, heartbeat in rhythm with his own.

She leaned against Ben the whole way back to the safe house. Face smushed into his chest, hair tickling Ben’s chin as she climbed up just a little closer in her sleep. Curled in his lap, a little bit of droll falling from her mouth. Ben had never seen something so fucking perfect in his life. She deserved to be like that for the rest of fucking time, comfortable and peaceful. Against Ben, if that’s what she wanted. 

Ben moved slowly, careful not to disturb Her, and pulled out his phone. 696969 was a fucking stupid passcode, but he’d noticed Her fight a giggle every time he had to enter it so it would stay like that forever. It took him a minute to find the camera app—there had to be a better way to navigate this piece of shit—but when he did he raised his free arm, holding the phone down at Her perfect face, and took a photo. It might be fucking creepy, he might be getting weird looks from the Pussy Brigade, but Ben didn’t give a single fuck. If She ever decided to leave him, if he had to let Her go, at least he’d have a memory of this. Of Her just needing him, just wanting him. 

Something of Her, forever.

End Note: My wife (Victoria Neuman) is home from war (s4 of the Boys)

Thank you guys for 100 followers!!! I want to do something but have literally no clue what. If you want to throw a snack into my writer enclosure, leave a comment with any thoughts or jokes or angry words for me about cockblocking our favorite horny idiots again. And if not just being here is always more than enough!

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[chrollogy]

iv. NEW YEAR BLUES

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: v. Misunderstandings | series masterlist

synopsis: After sending a risky text to Atsumu, you avoid your phone the next morning like a ticking time bomb until curiosity gnaws at your skin but it doesn’t take long before you cave. Thus, with a bated breath, you brace yourself for his response.

chapter content warning: college au, angst heh, shrine visit (poor depiction), implied alcohol use, tipsy reader (maybe a dumbass too), miya atsumu is an even bigger dumbass, hinata mention LMAO, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, miscommunication (it just got even worse. rip.), not beta read.

word count: 4.1k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. woweeee one more chapter and then we’re done ehehehehe >:)

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it.

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days—thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :) . .’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message.

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept reading,

‘. . . i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind—as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading your favourite manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you.

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way. .’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘. . . you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

‘I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.’

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequences of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat.

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You assumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

—

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