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osarina · 2 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you.

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then…

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before.

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him.

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man?

Who is that?

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering?

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia.

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it?

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know.

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake.

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust.

A mistake.

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake.

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that.

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake.

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors.

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless.

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself.

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki.

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him.

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye.

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him.

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him.

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did.

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently.

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.”

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?”

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild.

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy.

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him.

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused.

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth.

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has.

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could.

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away.

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached.

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is.

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum.

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.”

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before.

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar—Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia.

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born.

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City.

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go.

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings.

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone.

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly.

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive.

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in.

Odasaku saved him.

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed.

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat.

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it.

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out.

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying.

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway.

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed.

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building.

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him.

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports.

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks.

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place.

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead.

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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wonustars · 8 hours ago

Text

In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue.

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone.

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade.

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems.

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone.

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits.

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit.

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think.

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.”

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen.

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak.

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance.

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed.

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly.

“Good night, Wonwoo.”

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you?

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one.

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat.

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway.

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together.

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you.

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide.

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond.

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up.

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation.

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once.

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises.

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts.

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that.

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else.

two.

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way.

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite.

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear.

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people.

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend.

“What did he say?”

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye.

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate.

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms.

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice.

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three.

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried.

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch.

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him.

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging.

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache.

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension.

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone.

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another.

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table.

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins.

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken.

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions.

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats.

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?”

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there.

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen.

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch.

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest.

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything.

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression.

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head.

“Of course, what are best friends for?”

four.

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all.

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love.

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea.

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year.

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year.

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time.

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice.

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth.

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said.

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically.

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again.

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings.

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones.

five.

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you.

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him. The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him.

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios.

‘What if he likes you back?’

‘You never know until you try.’

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’

What if.

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit.

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality.

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen.

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5.

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary.

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends.

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza.

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is.

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar.

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night.

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car.

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you.

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough.

…

The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings.

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most.

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all.

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry.

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful.

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you.

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside.

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for.

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug.

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.”

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt.

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions.

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist.

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.”

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter.

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo.

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him.

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile.

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you.

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest.

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said.

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled.

“And I you.”

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night.

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them.

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened.

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ.

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead.

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters.

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics.

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you.

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep.

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok?

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one.

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him.

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning.

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing.

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two?

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling.

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been.

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it.

…

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him.

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them?

1:27 p.m. [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond.

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u. [1 photo attachment]

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today?

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed.

4:30 p.m. [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw.

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back.

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year.

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over.

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him.

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say.

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore.

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?”

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression.

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight.

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance.

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet.

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed.

[4:15 p.m. kst] [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved] [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards] [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit.

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat.

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all.

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment] [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing] [you: u better not snitch 😾] [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS] [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you.

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it.

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break.

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off.

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all.

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home.

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest.

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym.

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips.

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle.

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused.

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?”

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo.

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses.

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord.

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes.

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say?

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun.

“I’m Wonwoo.”

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep.

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number.

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer.

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation.

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon.

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for.

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on.

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time.

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them.

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested.

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks.

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out.

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.”

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday.

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together. It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend.

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do.

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts.

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence.

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on.

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer.

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that.

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him.

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table.

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop.

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted.

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you.

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end.

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs.

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses.

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice.

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest.

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny.

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare.

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend?

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression.

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself.

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you.

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more.

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?”

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it.

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses.

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you?

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything?

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be.

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you’d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him.

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.”

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs.

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy.

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests.

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought.

four.

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time.

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place.

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building?

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye.

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin.

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind.

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today.

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer.

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind. Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away.

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before.

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake.

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose?

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him.

[12:52 a.m.] [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?] [not delivered]

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list.

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms.

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions.

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off?

five.

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options.

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect.

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation.

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison.

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.”

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day.

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth.

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard.

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have.

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin.

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for.

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen.

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could.

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.”

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth.

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such.

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face.

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.”

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.”

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted.

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture.

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost.

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.”

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly.

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place.

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same.

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak.

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on?

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away.

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin.

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door.

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions.

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home.

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?” Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him.

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying.

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness.

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him.

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down.

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking.

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.”

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words.

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense.

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice.

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about? He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.”

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause.

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him.

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place.

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading.

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too.

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.” A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek.

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart.

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

#jeon wonwoo #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #svthub #Hiraya-M #thediamondlifenetwork #seventeen fic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #svt smut #svt fanfic #wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo seventeen #svt imagines

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runnning-outof-time · 2 days ago

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“You Came.” “You Called.” | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Solomons Sister!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons despise each other…….or do they?

Warnings: language, slight sexual situations, weapons, threats

Word Count: 1304

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t as long as the others have been. I need to get these requests finished and this is what I was able to come out with. I hope you’ll still enjoy! Also I’ve tried something a little different at the end - hopefully you’ll participate and not be too mad at me for it! :)

A/N 2: Oh and this is the story where the Solomons!Sister won the poll — I’m not sure if it’s angsty enough…I tried my best with it. Also I’m sorry if Alfie seems ooc here…it’s been a bit since I’ve written him and I’m rusty.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE STORY!

comment/message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"You came," she sounded surprised.

"You called," his response was nonchalant.

"Yeah, but I didn't call you."

The story of Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons is a long, complicated one.

To give a quick summary: they first met the day that Tommy showed up at Alfie's 'bakery. She was the first to greet him and instantly was able to realize that there was more to his motives than what he was letting on.

She was cautious when dealing with him at first, but his charm soon enough chipped away that hesitant exterior she'd put up.

Neither could help but cross the line one late evening after a successful business dinner.

She thought that that would be the end of Tommy Shelby. But now he'd shown up at her door...when she was expecting her brother.

"Where's my brother?" (Y/N) asked, looking to either side of the doorway, hoping that Alfie would be close by.

He wasn't.

"He's busy," Tommy answered.

"So he sent you?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Not exactly," he shook his head.

"I'm not understanding what you're saying. Ollie told me that he'd take a note down for Alfie and that he'd inform him as soon as he became available." (Y/N) was confused now.

"I saw the note," he began, "took it upon myself to see what was needed to be discussed."

(Y/N)'s jaw just about dropped. "Tommy, why did you...would you, you shouldn't, you..."

"My name was on the note, love," he cut off her attempt to string words together.

"Just because it was on the note does not mean you were to be involved!" she couldn't stop her voice from raising, her eyes widening as she spoke. Now she was wondering how Ollie had phrased his note to Alfie. A few beats passed before a sigh escaped her lips. She ran a frustrated hand across her face before asking, "what...what did the note say?" Her thoughts had gotten the best of her.

"It said that you needed to speak about Shelby...had some information you wanted to be made known," he answered her, his eyes boring into hers. (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her, taking a step inside, making her back up in the process. "What is it you wanted to tell him, hmm?"

His close proximity made her heartrate increase. She was quickly losing her ability to think. "Tommy, I..."

"What really was your goal last night, (Y/N)?" he asked her, his brows raising.

The willpower to keep her hands by her sides and not reach out to take hold of him was leaving (Y/N) by the second.

"I thought your intentions aligned with mine..." he trailed off, raising his hand so that he could run it down her jawline in a slow, teasing manner, "at least it seemed that way when you brought me back here."

Instead of dropping his hand when he reached her chin, he grasped it; taking it between his thumb and index finger so that he could raise her fleeing eyes to match his. This action made the breath get caught in (Y/N)'s throat, and every valid argument left her mind the second her eyes locked onto his icy blue ones. All hope was lost now.

"What are your intentions with me, (Y/N)?" he asked her.

"You know them, Tommy, I.." she couldn't quite string a thought together.

"Tell me."

"I.." she paused again, interally freaking out. Think of something, anything, (Y/N), come on! "I wanted to tell him about you...about us," she decided on telling him a lie, hoping that he would take it as the truth.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't decipher what he was truly thinking from his one word response. His widened eyes didn't help either, other than making her fall deeper into his trap with each second that passed. Now she was wracking her brain to think of ways to sell this.

The last thing she wanted to tell him was that she was going to sell him out...to tell Alfie what she felt his true intentions were.

"Yeah," she breathed, nodding her head as much as she could with his fingers still holding her chin. Sell it, (Y/N)!, her mind screamed before she raised her hands up to grip his lapels. All coherent thoughts flew out the window as she leaned in and kissed him.

This wasn't a loving kiss. It wasn't a slow one, unlike the ones they shared last night. She kissed him hard, hoping that the passion she put into it would be enough to get his mind off of the damn note and seal her lie for good.

His hold tightened on her chin, but he didn't break the kiss. In fact, his other hand moved from his side to her hip, where he began bunching up her skirt in order to make contact with her bare skin.

Success.

(Y/N) also became absorbed by the passion that they both were showing. It was hard not to given the fact that he was Tommy Shelby. The night they shared was one of the best she'd ever had. Conniving business man or not, she would remember it for the rest of her life.

"What in the bloody fucking hell is going on here?!"

What (Y/N) did not remember before getting sucked into this situation was to shut the door to her home.

Her eyes shot open and she became frantic, trying to break the kiss and move away from Tommy as quick as she could. "Alfie!" she shrieked, surprise clear on her face.

"Why're you fucking kissing my sister, mate?!" Alfie asked Tommy, speaking with a seething anger.

While (Y/N) was just about shaking from the shock of her brother showing up, Tommy didn't seem to be phased.

"Alfie he...he was just..."

"No," Alfie cut (Y/N) off, shaking his head and stopping her attempt to cover for the man now standing beside her, "I asked him not you. He knows family is off-fucking-limits, so I want him to answer me why."

Tommy said nothing. (Y/N) shrunk into herself more and more with each passing second. She'd never seen Alfie this angry.

"I said fucking answer me!" Alfie bellowed, drawing the revolver he had tucked into his waistband. He wasted no time in cocking it and holding it in Tommy's face.

Tommy still didn't move; didn't even flinch.

"You're going to fucking answer me," Alfie demanded, his voice low and menacing, "yeah, you're going to fucking answer me or it'll be your fucking brains blown out all over (Y/N)'s fucking foyer."

"Alfie, don't," (Y/N) begged her brother, reaching a shaky hand out in hopes that he would see it and lower his weapon.

"She called for you," Tommy spoke, his voice level and stoic.

"She fucking what?" Alfie asked, his brows furrowing slightly, confused by why Tommy was saying this.

“She called your office. You weren’t around. But my name was on the note,” Tommy shared more details.

“And what does that have fucking anything to do with you fucking kissing my sister?!” Alfie’s anger had returned.

“It has everything to do with it,” Tommy was still level-headed. “You see, she was going to tell you about this, about us,” he then dropped the bomb, motioning between himself and (Y/N) to emphasize the point he was making.

“I can explain,” (Y/N) was quick to blurt out, her eyes trained on the gun in Alfie’s hand, which he’d - thankfully - lowered from being aimed at Tommy’s head.

She couldn’t read the look in her brother’s eyes. The seconds felt like hours as they passed. She stood frozen as Alfie rose the revolver again and…….

Ok I’m evil, I know but……..

Don’t fret, if the poll’s closed by the time you’re reading this, you’re still more than welcome (and I’d encourage you, actually) to share what you think would happen next!!

p.s….this story won’t be getting continued. I’m just curious as to what y’all think.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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heart4caitlin · 1 day ago

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INJURED HEARTS / paige bueckers

Paige bueckers x injured!fem!reader

Synopsis: After an acl tear, y/n is out for the season. She finds solace in the main star, Paige.

NOT PROOFREAD !!!

The gym was buzzing with excitement. The sounds of sneakers squeaking against the court as you sat alone in the sidelines. Not really pay attention to the game, everything had felt distant to you. The dull ache in your knee, a constant reminder of what happened a few months ago.

Paige was The Star of the court. She had it all, the skill, the confidence, everything. Everyone had loved her at Uconn. She was everything that you wanted to be. Everything that you couldn't see yourself being. You'd been playing for years before but as you watched other players, the confidence wavered just a bit.

Watching the team play felt like a slap in the face, how the others moved on the court, every shot, every steal, everything was smooth and they played so well together.

The game was nearing the end, the score being a tie. Paige had just sunk a three-pointed, making the crowd go absolutely wild. The opposing team rushing to get the ball and going down the court, but they were too late. Game over. Uconn had won again.

You just couldn't shake the burden of being a failure, thinking you would never be as good as them. All because of an ACL tear.

As the crowd cheered, Paige kept looking over to you. She finally caved in and jogged over to you on the bench, taking the seat beside you and giving a soft smile.

"You good?"

"Yeah, just watching the game. Congrats on the final point, Paige." You smiled at her, a lump in your throat as the constant feeling of being a disappointment kept coming back.

She didn't answer right away, her hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing gently. "Come on, don't lie to me, Y/n. I know you are. Don't think so badly on yourself all because you're not playing, we’re still doing this together. So don’t shut yourself out, okay?”

Your heart ached for a second, you bite your lip and nod towards her. For the first time since her injury, you let yourself believe.

The locker room was loud, everyone cheering and talking above one another, as you were sitting on the side with your leg propped up. Paige was staring at you from where she was sitting. She made her way over towards you, slipping into the spot next to you as her hand moves to your thigh.

For a moment, it was silent before Paige started speaking. "I'm proud of you, ya know? You are apart of this team, whether you're playing or not. We all need you here. I need you here."

Your heart ached for a second, you stared at Paige for a few seconds. "I love you so much, Paige." The two of your hands intertwined, Paiges' thumb stroking the back of your hand as she smiled.

Before you know it, Paige is leaning forwards into you and her lips are on yours- soft and light, her hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

The two of you part, slightly breathing heavily as your foreheads rest together. "I love you too." Paige murmured against your lips, before smiling and pressing against you again, the team being forgotten in the background.

a/n: This was really short, i apologize!! I did only erite this in like an hour last night. please reblog and comment !!

#paige bueckers x fem reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige buckets #lesbian #wlw #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 days ago

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To Catch a Merman (m) | pjm

You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romance / tiny angst → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 17.7k → Warnings (general) + triggers: multiple povs (I tried to keep them apart, but there’s some sections where they mix), a shitty ex (not Jimin or one of the tannies), blackmail (because of said stupid ex), low female rage (it’s very minor, but let me just say that reader can defend herself if need be 🤭). → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), multiple orgasms, cockwarming, fingering, oral (male receiving), biting/marking, merfolk intercourse (it’s like a mating dance, lol), dirty talk. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: I’m baaaaack 🥳 I really love how this one turned out and I hope you love it as much as I do! And now there’s only two more mermaid stories left 🥹 This has truly been special, and i’m so glad I stuck with it and didn’t abandon it like I feared at one moment… Anyway, any kind of feedback will be very much appreciated—it fuels my inspiration, you know? Like just one single comment or reblog can make my heart soar, make me smile and feel like ‘yeah, someone on the internet likes my writing and stories as much as I do’ and it truly helps me to keep going, especially at times where I second guess myself (happens rather often I’m afraid). Please let me know okay? And happy reading ✨

[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 🤭

“Don’t you think we’ve gone too far out?” Jungkook’s voice wavers, uncertainty woven into each syllable. His dark eyes dart toward the fading silhouette of home, but Jimin doesn’t pause, doesn’t even glance back. His golden tail gleams like sunlight trapped in the sea, cutting through the azure depths with an effortless sway.

“Nah, don’t be such a guppy!” Jimin laughs, his voice buoyant with adventure, rippling through the water as he propels himself faster. Each stroke carries him farther into the unknown, where the current whispers secrets only the bold dare to uncover.

Jungkook lingers, his chest tight with unease. “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he calls, the words almost swallowed by the vastness. “We’re so far from home…”

Jimin suddenly halts mid-stroke, his brown eyes narrowing. Above them, a shadow looms, dark and colossal, breaking the soft shimmer of sunlight on the waves. The water feels heavier now, the salty tang sharper.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, dread curling in his gut.

“It’s a big boat,” Jimin murmurs, the words bubbling to the surface as if reluctant to leave his lips. His curiosity pulls him forward, closer to the shadow that stretches like a specter above them.

“Yeah, and we should stay away,” Jungkook snaps, his hand darting out to grab Jimin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

But Jimin shrugs him off, slipping through his grip like quicksilver. His golden tail fans wide, propelling him onward, closer to the unknown.

“Just a little closer!” Jimin calls, his voice light, but his gaze locked on the shadow overhead.

“Jimin!” Jungkook shouts, the name tumbling from his mouth like a plea. He spins in the water, struggling against the tide—and his rising anger. His voice cuts through the deep with raw emotion. “You’re going to get us killed!”

But Jimin only laughs again, a sound like the tinkling of glass against the endless blue, as the shadow above deepens, and the world below seems to hold its breath.

“It’s okay!” Jimin calls, his voice barely rising above the whispering waves. He hovers just beneath the surface, closer to danger than Jungkook would ever allow if he had his way. But Jimin’s curiosity burns brighter than his caution. The lure of the unknown pulls at him like a tide. Slowly, almost reverently, he lifts his head above the water, the ocean’s surface breaking around him in ripples of light.

His breath catches. The boat looms above him—a hulking beast of wood and iron, its hull painted in hues of brown and white, weathered by years of salt and sun. Massive cranes stretch skyward like skeletal arms, and heavy nets drape across its deck, glinting faintly under the midday sun. It is not beautiful, but it is powerful, a thing of human hands and ambition, utterly foreign to the delicate harmony of the sea.

Jungkook materializes silently at Jimin’s side, his presence a sudden ripple in the water that startles the older merman. Jimin glances at him, guilt flickering briefly in his wide eyes before giving way to fascination again.

“Jimin,” Jungkook hisses, his voice sharp, his gaze sharper still, like an anchor seeking to tether him. “Turn back.”

But Jimin doesn’t move. His voice trembles, not with fear but with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” His eyes dart to the figures moving along the deck, their shadows shifting like specters against the glare of sunlight. “There are people up there.”

“Hide!” Jungkook snaps, grabbing Jimin’s arm and pulling him sharply downward. The sea envelops them both again, cool and heavy, muffling the world above. “That’s a trawler,” Jungkook says, his voice low and urgent, every word a warning. “They catch fish, Jimin. You shouldn’t go near it.”

Jimin nods absently, his head bobbing like seaweed caught in the current, but his thoughts are far away, drifting beyond Jungkook’s grasp. The boat has hooked his curiosity like a lure, and no amount of scolding can break its hold.

Jungkook sighs, frustration etching lines into his usually calm expression. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s tail and tugging him backward with a determined kick of his fins. Jimin lets out a half-hearted protest but doesn’t fight him, his gaze lingering on the shadow of the boat until it fades into the distance.

As they swim back to Naraeum, Jungkook glances over his shoulder, his unease like a weight dragging him down. The ocean feels too still, too silent, as if even it is holding its breath. Beside him, Jimin smiles faintly, his mind adrift in a sea of wonder.

Days have passed, yet Jimin cannot shake the image of the trawler from his mind. The boat lingers in his thoughts like a siren’s call—an enigma draped in nets and cranes. He remembers the humans, their shadows etched against the light, and wonders what it would feel like to stand among them, to know the world above the waves. His curiosity churns like the tide, restless and unyielding.

Which is why, against better judgment, his whimsical heart leads him back to where he last saw it. Alone, this time. Jungkook’s warnings echo faintly in his memory, but he brushes them aside like grains of sand. Jungkook doesn’t understand—how could he? To Jimin, the pull of discovery is stronger than fear.

The sun is high, its warmth seeping through the water’s surface as he breaks through the shimmering line between ocean and air. The trawler looms in the distance, its silhouette stark against the azure sky. No voices, no footsteps. The deck looks empty, silent. Safe.

Jimin swims closer, his golden tail cutting through the waves with an eager flick. He dips beneath the surface again, the water cool against his skin as he circles to the far side of the vessel. His heart flutters with anticipation, the world narrowing to this single moment, this single mystery.

But as he moves to rise once more, something catches. A sudden, taut pressure coils around him—a net, rough and unyielding, tangling his tail and pinning his arms to his sides. Panic flares. He thrashes, but the more he struggles, the tighter the net pulls. The world tips and tilts as he’s dragged upward, the ocean slipping away below him, the sun blinding above.

When he finally breaks the surface, it is not in freedom but captivity. He is hoisted into the air, suspended with a writhing chaos of silver-scaled fish. Their bodies slap and squirm against him, cold and frantic. Jimin grunts, his pride stinging almost as much as his skin. Of course, he thinks bitterly. Of course I’d get caught. He’s the kind of merman who can’t even balance on a rock without sliding off. Clumsy to his core. Jungkook had warned him—warned him with exasperation and those sharp, knowing eyes—but he hadn’t listened.

Now, he lies in a heap on the deck, the net a coarse prison pressing against his skin. The trawler’s wood feels foreign beneath him, its surface warm from the sun. For a moment, there is no movement, no sound but the rhythmic creak of the boat and the faint slap of water against its hull.

No humans. Not yet. He exhales shakily, a flicker of relief warming him. Lucky, for now. But luck is fleeting, and the net is unrelenting. He twists and pulls, his tail flicking in frustration, yet the woven threads refuse to yield.

As he struggles, the vastness of his predicament begins to sink in. The boat, the net, the world of humans looming just beyond the corner of his vision—all of it feels too big, too foreign. Yet, even in the face of danger, a part of him remains defiant, his curiosity undimmed. I’ll get out of this, he thinks. I have to.

But the trawler sways beneath him, a silent giant, and the horizon stretches wide and uncaring. The sun blazes overhead, and the sea he loves feels suddenly, painfully far away.

You hate this job. The endless hours, the stench of fish, the grinding noise of the trawler’s machinery—it all gnaws at your soul. But the money is good, and good money keeps you coming back. Still, as you stretch awake in the middle of the day, the remnants of last night’s shift clinging to you like a haze, you can’t shake the feeling that you’d rather be anywhere else.

Weird noises from the deck break through your grogginess, jarring and unfamiliar. You yawn, dragging yourself from the cocoon of your cramped bed, the lazy heat of the cabin making every step feel like a chore. Rubbing your eyes, you shuffle to investigate, the bright daylight spilling through the doorway catching you off guard.

The moment you step outside, the world hits you. The sun blazes mercilessly above, its golden rays turning the sea into a blinding mosaic of light. The air hangs heavy, hot and thick, clinging to your skin like a second layer. And then you see him.

A man—no, an angel—caught in the center of the deck, tangled in the coarse weave of a fishing net. Blonde hair gleams like spun sunlight, cascading over his shoulders. His chest is sculpted, every curve and ridge kissed by the sun, tapering to a tiny waist. Your gaze falters at sturdy thighs, only for your brain to screech to a halt at his dick. Completely naked. Utterly surreal.

His head jerks up, startled brown eyes locking with yours. A loud, high-pitched shriek escapes him, the sound jarring and almost inhuman. He thrashes in the net, his movements frantic as the silver-scaled fish trapped with him flop and slide against his skin. You freeze, your breath caught in your throat, every nerve firing in chaotic confusion.

What the hell is happening? You want to ask something—anything. Maybe ‘do you need help?’ or ‘who are you?’ or even the more pressing ‘how the hell did you get here?’ But your words die on your lips as he suddenly wriggles free of the net. For a moment, he’s all unsteady limbs, rising awkwardly to his feet. Then, like a fleeting mirage, he dashes for the edge of the boat, his movements fluid and oddly graceful despite his wobbling steps.

He pauses just long enough to clap his hands together in a makeshift diving pose. And then he leaps. Quick, but slow enough that you catch a glimpse of a tattoo of moon phases down his spine.

Time slows as he arcs through the air, a golden blur against the deep blue horizon. The water accepts him in a shimmering burst, and he’s gone. You gape, your voice finally finding freedom in a startled yell. Heart pounding, you rush to the edge of the boat, gripping the sun-warmed railing as you peer over. The ocean is calm, indifferent, save for a few bubbles breaking its surface.

You scan the water, searching, your eyes desperate to confirm what you just saw—or to convince yourself it was some kind of sun-soaked fever dream. But there’s nothing. The waves ripple serenely, as if mocking your bewilderment.

No man. No trace. Just the endless expanse of sea, stretching into oblivion.

You stand there, stunned, the net still lying in a crumpled heap behind you, its captured fish glinting in the sunlight. The deck creaks beneath your feet, but the rest of the world seems to hold its breath. Who—or what—was that? And where did he go?

The sea offers no answers. Only silence.

The whole day, he lingers in your mind like a shadow you can’t shake. The golden-haired man, tangled in the net, his brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. Questions churn in your head, relentless as the tide. Is he okay? Did he make it? Why was he there in the first place? And the one you don’t want to ask but can’t silence—Did he drown after he leapt into the sea?

He hadn’t said a word, only that strange startled cry when your eyes met. The sound was raw, unguarded, like something wild caught between fight and flight. You replay it over and over, a haunting echo, as you try to piece him together from fragments: golden hair, sun-bronzed skin, a fleeting presence that disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. And those eyes—terrified, searching. You wonder what they saw in you.

A sudden hand at the small of your back drags you out of your thoughts, the warmth unwelcome and invasive. Riley. You shrug him off sharply, your frown a warning, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“What happened out there?” he asks, curiosity lacing his tone. He must have heard the ruckus earlier, but you’re in no mood to indulge him. “Nothing,” you snap, turning away. “And don’t touch me again. Ever.”

His hand retreats, but his presence lingers like a bad smell. Riley—your ex, your mistake. You curse the naïveté that led you to take this job, blind to the fact he’d be working here too. It felt like fate mocking you, trapping you on this swaying tin can with someone you can’t stand. Every day, you question your sanity for staying. But the paycheck binds you like chains, and so you endure.

Riley’s voice follows you, slick with false concern. “I can protect you, if you’re scared.” The words slither through the air, leaving a sickly taste in your mouth. You stiffen, his tone stirring something sharp and defensive in your chest.

You turn, arms crossing tightly over your body, your voice colder than the ocean below. “I don’t need your protection, Riley. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.” Each word is clipped, deliberate, your disdain evident.

He smirks, like your anger is a game he enjoys playing. It makes your stomach churn, and you glare at him before storming away, needing space, needing air.

Your thoughts drift again as you retreat to the edge of the boat, eyes scanning the endless sea. The sunlight dances on the waves, golden and playful, as if mocking your mood. But no matter how far you look, there’s no sign of him—the man who consumed your every thought today. Just water stretching endlessly, as inscrutable as it is vast.

A few days later, the quiet of dawn is shattered by a strange, rhythmic banging that echoes against the hull of the boat. The sound pulls you from sleep like a siren’s call, and before you can think, you’re on your feet, racing out in nothing but your pajamas, the early chill biting at your skin. The sky is a delicate canvas of pale pink and gold, the sea beneath it still dark and restless.

The deck is empty, the vast stretch of wood as silent as the horizon. But the sound persists—low, insistent, coming from the side of the boat. Heart thudding, you approach the railing, peering over cautiously.

And there he is.

Your breath hitches. For a moment, all you can do is stare, your mouth falling open as if to match the endless gape of the sea below. Caught in the coarse weave of the net, a merman thrashes against his bindings. Half of his shimmering tail—gold and flecked with iridescent yellows—remains submerged in the water, while his torso, lean and sunlit, glistens with droplets that catch the dawn light like scattered jewels. His blonde hair, unruly and windblown, clings to his face in wild streaks.

Familiar blonde hair. A face you’ve seen before.

He struggles, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, the net tangling tighter with every thrash. “Help!” he cries, his voice raw and desperate, carried over the waves to no one in particular. His gaze hasn’t found you yet, but his fear is palpable, written in every line of his body.

“I can help you!” you call out, your voice breaking through the morning stillness like a splash of cold water.

He freezes, flinching at the sound. Slowly, as if time itself has slowed, he turns his head. His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, the fight drains from his limbs. Shock overtakes him, his expression teetering between recognition and disbelief.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The sea murmurs below, the net creaks with the sway of the boat, and still, his gaze holds yours, weighing something unseen, something fragile.

“Can you help me out of this net?” he asks at last, his voice low, wary, the tension in his shoulders betraying his uncertainty.

You nod, steadying yourself against the railing. “I can,” you reply, your words measured, reassuring. “But I’ll need to raise you onto the deck first. The net—it’s too heavy to untangle in the water.”

His lips press into a thin line, his reluctance plain, but he nods, a flicker of trust crossing his features. The moment feels precarious, like balancing on the edge of a wave.

“All right,” he murmurs. “Just... be quick.”

You grip the railing tighter, your heart pounding as you prepare to pull him aboard. The world feels charged, like the air before a storm, and the sea watches silently, its secrets just beneath the surface.

You hear him sigh, a soft, defeated sound that seems to blend with the whisper of the waves against the hull. Slowly, he relents, letting you take control. With a steady pull, you drag him and the heavy net out of the water, your muscles straining as the glistening form of the merman rises onto the deck.

There he lays, sprawled and still, water pooling beneath him as it drips from his sleek, otherworldly form. You step closer, and for the first time, you truly see him. He isn’t just beautiful—he’s ethereal, like something conjured from the dreams of gods. His face is serene yet haunting, framed by unruly blonde locks that cling to his skin, while his shimmering tail catches the sun, reflecting colors that defy description.

Your breath hitches. It’s him. The man who has haunted your thoughts for days, the one you feared might have been claimed by the sea. Relief floods through you, mingled with awe. He didn’t drown. He didn’t vanish. He’s here—and he’s a merman.

Shaking off your daze, you kneel beside him, your hands working to untangle the net from his glistening body. Each movement feels surreal, your fingers sliding over the slick scales as you free him inch by inch. When the last knot falls away, you can’t help but linger, your gaze tracing the curve of his tail. It’s a masterpiece of nature, wet and scaly, each iridescent hue shimmering like molten gold under the light. Without thinking, your hand reaches out, brushing against it.

The texture is mesmerizing—cool, smooth, and alien. But then, just as you’re about to marvel aloud, a flicker of light catches your eye. Tiny sparkles dart around him, a strange, magical shimmer that dances like fireflies in the dawn. You blink, and suddenly, his tail isn’t there anymore.

Your heart stops. What you’re touching now isn’t a tail—it’s skin. Wet, firm, human skin. Your hand rests high on his thigh, alarmingly close to…

You jerk back as though scalded, a startled shriek escaping your lips. Heat rises to your cheeks as your mind spirals, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he curls into himself, folding his arms and drawing his knees up, his entire form radiating vulnerability. His golden hair falls over his face like a curtain, shielding him from your gaze, as if the transformation has stolen some vital part of him.

Snapping yourself out of it, you scramble to your feet, casting about for something to cover him. A roll of tarp catches your eye, and you grab it, moving swiftly to drape it over his body. His wide, questioning eyes follow your hurried movements, but before you can say anything, footsteps echo from behind.

“Hide,” you hiss under your breath, pulling the tarp snugly around him. He doesn’t protest, just shifts deeper into the shadows, his presence shrinking to near invisibility.

Riley strides onto the deck, his boots thudding against the wood with deliberate weight. His face is unreadable, but his gaze sweeps the space like a predator searching for prey. “What’s going on out here?” he asks, his tone sharp and suspicious.

“Nothing,” you blurt, your voice an octave too high. You shift your body subtly, blocking Riley’s view of the tarp-covered figure behind you. The air between you crackles with tension as you force yourself to meet his eyes, willing him to believe your lie.

“Hmm… okay,” Riley says, lingering just long enough to set your teeth on edge. “I heard you scream, so if you need me, just let me know.” His gaze sweeps the boat once more, like he’s searching for the ghost of your secrets.

You scowl, crossing your arms as a shield. “Fuck off,” you snap, the words sharp as broken glass.

Finally, he shrugs and turns, his heavy footsteps receding into the distance. The tension eases its grip on your chest, and you let out a shaky breath, relief rushing in like a tide. Only when he’s gone do you feel like you can truly breathe again.

Turning back, you kneel by the tarp, fingers trembling slightly as you lift its edge. Beneath it, the man—if you can call him that—sits curled in on himself, his golden hair a wild halo around his wary eyes. Those eyes fix on you, wide and mistrusting, their depths dark as uncharted waters.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly, your voice gentle as the breeze over calm seas. “I won’t hurt you.”

“But you’re human,” he replies, his voice low, tinged with fear and something unnameable. He shifts back instinctively, his posture guarded, keeping a cautious distance as if you might sprout claws at any moment.

You hesitate, not wanting to push him further into his shell. “Are you hungry?” you ask instead, steering the conversation into safer waters. You don’t press him; instead, you keep still, aware of the fragile balance between his fear and your curiosity.

His stomach answers for him, the loud, unmistakable growl breaking the tension. A blush colors his cheeks, and to your surprise, he giggles—a light, melodic sound that’s startlingly human.

“Do you have tang?” he asks, his eyes brightening for the briefest moment, curiosity peeking through his fear.

Tang. The word catches you off guard, but you quickly realize what he means. A smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I think I have some tangy snacks in my room. Hold on.”

You pause, glancing at his dripping figure, and add, “And I’ll get you some clothes too.”

His gaze softens, just a little, as if he’s starting to believe you might not be a threat after all.

Rising quickly, you dart into your small cabin, rifling through drawers until you find a bag of snacks that might fit the bill. Then, with a surge of boldness, you sneak into one of your coworker’s rooms. Borrowing—stealing, really—a pair of pants and a shirt, you mutter an apology under your breath. It’ll have to do.

When you return, he’s still seated where you left him, his form a quiet figure against the chaos of the sea around you. You hand him the clothes, and he takes them with a hesitant nod. Watching him dress is like watching a bird try to walk—awkward, unnatural, his movements jerky and unsure, as though his body resists this strange, human choreography.

But eventually, the oversized shirt hangs from his shoulders, the borrowed pants bunched awkwardly around his waist. He adjusts the fabric with a distracted frown before shifting his focus to the snacks you’ve brought. The tangy treats vanish quickly, his hands moving with an efficiency born of hunger, though he pauses occasionally to eye the brightly colored packaging like it’s something from another world.

You hand him a bottle of water, and he gulps it down, his throat working rhythmically, the sound amplified in the stillness between you. Finally, you settle across from him, your knees tucked close as you take him in—not just his appearance, but his presence, the way he seems both fragile and powerful, like something caught between two worlds.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

He pauses, lowering the bottle, then meets your gaze. “Jimin,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered secret.

You nod, offering him a small, warm smile, hoping it will ease the wariness in his expression. “Hi, Jimin. I’m Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the ocean filling the space between your words. But curiosity pushes forward, unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Jimin chuckles, the sound soft but tinged with frustration as he pops another snack into his mouth. “I just wanted to see the boat again,” he admits, shaking his head. “And I got caught in that stupid net again…” He rolls his eyes, the gesture so human it catches you off guard, deflating with a sigh that seems to sink into the deck beneath him.

But then his gaze sharpens, flicking around the empty deck as if he senses unseen eyes. “Why are you hushing and hiding me like I’m some sort of secret?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity but not without suspicion.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Do you really want my coworkers to find you? To know that you’re a merman?” you counter, your tone cautious but earnest.

He considers this for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he exhales. “I guess not,” he mutters, the words laced with a resigned wisdom. “Humans aren’t trustworthy.” His tone is matter-of-fact, not cruel, but unyielding, as though he’s learned this lesson too many times before.

You flinch inwardly at the generalization, but you let it pass. “I’m trustworthy,” you say, your smile growing as you try to project a confidence you’re not sure you feel.

He tilts his head, his sharp eyes searching yours, and it’s clear he isn’t convinced. The wall of mistrust between you is a thick one, forged not in a moment, but over years, perhaps even centuries, of caution bred into his kind.

But that’s okay, you think. You didn’t expect trust to come easily.

“I swear, I mean you no harm,” you add, leaning back slightly, your voice quieter now, as though softer words might slip past his defenses.

Maybe it’s all the fantasy novels you’ve devoured recently, their tales of impossible creatures and fragile bonds, but a strange determination takes root in your chest: you have to protect him. At least from Riley and the rest of your coworkers. You can already picture the chaos that would erupt if they discovered mermaids were more than just stories. The scandal. The cruelty. No—if nothing else, you owe him safe passage back to his home.

“Have you ever been out of the ocean before? Or… on land?” you ask, your voice soft, as if you’re afraid to disturb the fragile magic of the moment.

He shakes his head, though his posture eases, his body less coiled now. “I’ve never been to land before,” he says, his voice carrying a wistful undercurrent. “But plenty of my friends have.”

As he speaks, his gaze drifts far away, as if caught on a tide only he can see. There’s a dreamy quality to his expression, a flicker of longing that glows like sunlight beneath the waves. “I really want to see land,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with wonder. But then it dips, quiet and heavy, as he fidgets with his hands. “But...”

Before you can think better of it, the words tumble out of your mouth like a pebble skipping across water. “I can show you, if you want to!”

He blinks, startled, and his head tilts slightly, those deep eyes locking onto yours. “You would?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid the offer might vanish if he speaks too loudly.

“Yeah, sure,” you say with a shrug, trying to sound casual. But your smile is warm, gentle, and you hope it will soothe his lingering doubt. “You seem nice. And curious. I can show you my world.”

Your heart flutters at the absurdity of it all—you, befriending a merman. A mythical creature. The stuff of bedtime stories and legends. If your coworkers knew, they’d call you crazy. But you’d rather be crazy than let this moment slip through your fingers. Your parents always taught you to be kind, and if kindness means helping a creature from the deep see a dream made real, then so be it.

His honeyed skin flushes faintly, the blush soft as a sunrise, and he murmurs, “Okay.” But then his smile falters, his hands folding together. “But I have to go back home now. My friends… they’ll worry about me if I’m gone too long.”

The spell breaks as he rises to his feet, and you follow him to the boat’s edge. The sea stretches below, glittering and endless, waiting to welcome him back.

He turns to you one last time, his golden hair haloed by the sunlight, and then, without a moment’s hesitation, he dives. The splash sends ripples across the surface, but before you can process his departure, the clothes he was wearing resurface, bobbing lazily in the water.

A second later, his head pops up, grinning. “Oops,” he says, his voice bright with laughter, and he gathers the floating garments, tossing them up to you with surprising precision.

He waves, and with a flick of his magnificent tail—shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight—he disappears into the depths. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the water, the echo of his presence lingering like the last note of a song.

You sigh, shaking your head. Maybe you have been reading too many fantasy novels. But as you fold his clothes, still damp and salty, you know one thing for sure: you’ll see him again.

Jimin has never truly met a human before. He’s always kept his distance, heeding the Elders’ grim warnings—dark tales of cruelty and greed. Stories of merfolk snared in nets, dragged from the waves to live as captives behind glass walls, their freedom traded for fleeting human fascination. The thought of such confinement has always chilled him. The ocean, vast and endless, is his sanctuary—a realm where he can stretch his fins and feel the infinite embrace of freedom.

But then he met you.

You’re not what he expected, not at all. You’re not cruel or cold, not the predator the stories painted. You’re warm, kind, and impossibly gentle—like a rare current that carries him somewhere new. And though his heart whispers caution, he can’t help but lean closer, drawn to your presence like sunlight breaking through the water’s surface.

There’s something about you that stirs a curiosity he’s long tried to ignore. He’s always been intrigued by the human world, yes—but not enough to chase it. Not like Jungkook, who used to live on land as a child, or Yoongi, with his endless fascination for women, or Hoseok, with his relentless fascination for breaking rules.

Jimin has always been curious and daring, but only in measured strokes—never quite brave enough to venture beyond the safety of the waves. Until now.

Now, he finds himself wondering. About you. About the strange life you lead aboard that towering vessel. Are you like the others, here to strip the sea of its bounty? Or is there something more to your story, something deeper? He wonders what your world is like—on land, where the tides are invisible and the air doesn’t shimmer.

How different it must be from Naraeum, his underwater home, where coral spires rise like cathedrals and the water sings with life.

And yet, for all his questions, one thought rises above the rest, startling in its clarity: You don’t seem bad at all.

In fact, he thinks, you might just be good.

Jimin knows well—thanks to Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s tales—that fish don’t swim on land, and that humans experience intimacy in ways unlike his kind. It fascinates him, though he would never admit it outright. Not that he’s thinking about you like that. No, it’s just curiosity, an innocent hunger to understand the unknown.

He’s heard Yoongi’s endless stories of wild escapades on land, tales laced with laughter and mischief. They always stir an uproar—especially from Seokjin, whose words crash like waves against Yoongi’s tide, insisting that not all humans are like the ones his friend indulges in, fleeting and shallow. Jimin has always stayed quiet during those heated debates. He isn’t like Yoongi, reckless and bold, and he isn’t like Seokjin, careful and measured. He’s just… himself.

Truthfully, Jimin doesn’t know what he wants from life, other than the life he already has. For years, he’s floated along, content to be a merman in the vast embrace of the sea. No mate has caught his eye, no grand ambition has stirred his soul. His parents, thankfully, don’t push—they let him be. But sometimes, late at night, he wonders if that’s enough.

Lately, his thoughts have been restless, swimming further than his fins ever could. What else is out there? What experiences are waiting to be tasted, untried and undiscovered? Perhaps that’s why he’s drawn to you—not just because you freed him, not just because you’re kind. It’s something deeper, something he can’t quite name.

And yes, you’re beautiful too. Not in the obvious, dazzling way of a siren’s song, but in a quiet, understated way that feels honest and real. He thinks of your smile, the way it tilted the edges of the moment into something softer, and he wonders if he’ll ever see it again.

As the sun dips low, sending shards of gold skimming the water’s surface, Jimin darts through the waves, leaving the coral towers of Naraeum behind. The ocean stretches endlessly before him, but his destination is clear—your boat. It’s been days since he last saw you, days since you freed him from the trap of that cursed net.

And yet, he feels it still—a strange pull in his chest, like a current drawing him toward the unknown. Toward you. He doesn’t know why he feels it, doesn’t know what he’s chasing. He only knows that he wants to see you again, to hear your voice ripple through the air like a melody he’s only just learned to love.

He lifts his head above the water, careful to keep his distance from the boat, his gaze sweeping its silhouette until it lands on you. You’re leaning over the bow, framed by the soft gold of the setting sun. The light dances on your skin, lending it an ethereal shimmer, as though you belong more to the heavens than the earth. But your face tells another story—it’s etched with sorrow, your gaze heavy as it clings to the horizon.

Something tugs at Jimin’s heart, an ache he can’t quite place. You don’t look like you belong on this boat, amidst the steel and salt and nets. It doesn’t seem to fit you, this life. He wonders, briefly, if you’re trapped in your own kind of net, caught in something you didn’t choose.

The sun dips lower, casting a burning amber trail across the water, and you remain there, lost in thought. Unable to bear the weight of your sadness, Jimin swims closer, circling around the front of the boat. He keeps his movements light, the water rippling gently around him as he glides into your view.

When your eyes finally find him, the change is instant. The sorrow lifts from your face like the breaking of a storm, and the softness of your smile is like the first light of dawn. It stirs something deep within him—a warmth that bubbles to the surface like the sea kissed by sunlight.

He smiles back, instinctively, his heart fluttering in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

You make your way to the side of the boat, where the nets hang ominously. He notices and keeps his distance, wary of the tangling web that had once ensnared him.

“Hi, Jimin,” you call, your voice carrying across the water, warm and soothing like a lullaby. You wave, a gesture so simple yet disarming, your smile soft and genuine.

“Hi!” he replies, his voice tinged with joy, his hand breaking the surface of the water in a wave. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face—it feels so natural now that he knows you mean him no harm.

“Do you want to come onto land with me tomorrow?” you ask, your voice gentle, yet carrying a spark of excitement. There’s a glimmer in your eyes, a kind of light that makes Jimin’s heart skip in a way that feels both thrilling and terrifying.

He nods shyly, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft but brimming with eagerness. A giddy kind of warmth rises in his chest, the thrill of the unknown pulling him forward even as fear tugs at his edges. The thought of stepping onto land—foreign and solid and utterly unyielding—is daunting. But he figures, with you by his side, the leap might not feel so far.

“Cool,” you say with a grin that makes him feel a little braver. You glance out toward the endless expanse of ocean, the breeze teasing at your hair. “What have you been up to?” you ask, leaning onto the edge again, mirroring the easy way he found you.

Jimin hesitates for just a moment before diving into his thoughts. “Not much,” he says, though the memories bubble up quickly, bright and alive. “Just hanging out with my friends. Taehyung and I found this lake—it’s tucked away, surrounded by these beautiful willow trees, their branches dipping right into the water. It felt... magical.” He smiles as he speaks, the memory playing vividly in his mind like sunlight glinting through leaves. “And then I went with Namjoon to collect gems. He’s so good at finding the rare ones—ruby reds, deep blues... like pieces of the sky trapped underwater.”

He notices the way your face softens as you listen, the way your focus seems entirely on him, and it fills him with a kind of happiness he didn’t know he was searching for. Maybe, just maybe, you’re as curious about his world as he is about yours.

“That sounds amazing! Maybe you could show me that lake sometime... or even introduce me to your friends?” you ask, your voice carrying a playful lilt, but there’s a softness beneath it—a quiet yearning that Jimin can’t quite place.

“You want to meet my friends?” he giggles, his laughter as light as the waves that lap against the boat. His tail shimmers beneath the surface, wiggling playfully, sending ripples out into the vast blue.

“Yeah,” you reply, a mock pout gracing your lips, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “If that sort of thing is allowed?”

The sight of your expression tugs a laugh from him, warm and unguarded. It’s the kind of laugh that bubbles up from the depths of his chest, spilling out like sunlight breaking through water. You’re pouting, and it’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, it’s okay and I’ll ask my friends,” he says, still smiling, though his words carry the weight of quiet rebellion. He doesn’t tell you the whole truth—that the Elders would frown at the idea, their endless warnings about humans ringing in his mind like a distant current. But rules have always felt like suggestions to him and his friends, currents to swim against rather than be swept away by. Besides, you don’t seem like the humans in the stories—how could you be?

“Thank you,” you say, your smile brightening like the morning sun cresting over the horizon, chasing away shadows. It’s a smile that lingers, and it strikes something in him—a mix of excitement and trepidation, a feeling that maybe showing you his world might not be such a risk after all.

“Do you like working on that boat?” he asks, his voice slipping out before he has a chance to second-guess it. The question has lingered at the back of his mind ever since he first saw you on deck, that distant, wistful look in your eyes that seemed to carry a quiet sadness.

For a moment, your face falters, your gaze slipping away as if the weight of his question pulls something heavy from inside you. A soft sigh escapes your lips, deflated, like the last breath of air from a slowly sinking balloon. “No, not really,” you confess, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He tilts his head, genuinely puzzled, unable to grasp the why. “Then why do it?” he asks, as if the concept of choosing something without passion is entirely foreign to him.

You lower your gaze, shoulders slumping in surrender. A groan slips from your throat, a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I guess I only do it for the money,” you murmur, the words heavy in the quiet space between you. “I know, it sounds super lame... But it pays really well. It pays my rent, keeps me afloat, you know?” You trail off, uncertainty flickering across your features. “I don’t know if you have money and rent down there��”

“We do, so I get it,” he says, his voice soft but steady, an unspoken understanding passing between you. His gaze is warm, like a patch of sunlight breaking through the clouds, reassuring you without judgment. “It still sucks though,” he adds, a quiet sympathy in his tone. “Sounds kinda soulless.”

You let out a long, weary exhale, the weight of the words settling deep inside. “It is,” you agree, the truth hanging in the air like a shadow that refuses to leave.

“I’d love to do something else, but I don’t really know what,” you admit, your voice heavy with frustration. “I’ve always felt a connection to the sea, to everything in it—but catching all these fish, it’s like my soul is slowly being chipped away.” You let out a deep sigh, your eyes distant, haunted by the sight of the ocean’s wounds. “And the plastic... it’s everywhere. It clogs the water, suffocates the life. It’s maddening, you know? People are stupid,” you mutter, the anger in your chest bubbling over.

Jimin’s soft laugh cuts through the tension, and it takes you by surprise. His eyes, full of warmth, reflect the same frustration. “I agree,” he says, voice laced with quiet conviction. “The plastic—it’s everywhere. I’ve had to help so many fish and turtles get out of plastic bottles and containers. It’s heartbreaking.” His lips curl into a gentle scowl.

Then, a smile breaks across his face, soft but genuine, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “But hey, I can help you brainstorm alternatives to catching fish on that boat,” he offers, the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

You laugh, the tension easing in your chest, your heart fluttering at the simplicity of the moment. “Yeah, we can do that tomorrow. I’d love to hear your ideas,” you say, a sense of ease settling between you.

Jimin smiles, his heart racing slightly at the thought of tomorrow. As you talk, the conversation flows easily—your questions about his home, Naraeum, the life he leads there. He tells you that there’s no ‘work’ in the way you understand it, that their society values freedom above all else. Merfolk can take on roles if they choose, but many, like him, simply exist, untethered by obligation.

The sun begins to dip, casting its final, golden light over the water. You glance at the sky and realize it’s time to go. “I should head inside to get some dinner,” you say reluctantly, feeling the pull of the boat’s steady rhythm, but also the weight of your own hunger.

Jimin nods, though a twinge of regret flickers in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, his voice soft, filled with something unspoken.

He waves you a quiet goodbye, and with a flick of his tail, he dives into the water, his figure disappearing as he swims toward home—his heart a mix of eager excitement and a flutter of nerves, knowing tomorrow will bring him closer to a world he’s never truly known.

The next day, Jimin glides through the dawn-touched water, the ocean aglow with soft gold as the rising sun kisses its surface. He reaches your boat just as the world begins to wake, his heart thudding with a mix of trepidation and anticipation. You greet him with a gentle smile, helping him aboard with the net he so despises. It entangles him briefly, like a stubborn remnant of the sea reluctant to let him go, but it’s the easiest way to bring him aboard without a fuss.

“You can hide in my room until we reach shore,” you whisper, your voice low and soothing, like the calm of the ocean before a storm. You hand him clothes—simple, unfamiliar garments—and he places them carefully on the wooden planks. He waits in silence, his shimmering tail already beginning to fade as the magic of transformation takes hold. When his legs return, he moves with an endearing awkwardness, pulling on the human clothes with clumsy hands before following you below deck.

Your room is small, a haven carved out of the ship’s heart, yet it feels barren, like a place you exist in but do not truly inhabit. The walls are plain wood, the cream linens unremarkable, and the single duffel bag on the floor overflows with your life in disarray. Clothes spill out like secrets, but nothing in the space speaks of who you are. Jimin scans for something personal—a photograph, a trinket, a scrap of you—but finds nothing. It feels like a shell, a husk waiting to be filled, and he wonders if it mirrors how you feel here, adrift and longing.

As he settles into the quiet, he can’t help but wonder about the place you call home. Is it warm, filled with mismatched pieces of you—a kaleidoscope of colors and memories—or is it restrained, earthy and neutral, a sanctuary of simplicity? The thought lingers as he sits alone in your absence, his curiosity pulling him further into your world, one question at a time.

Jimin flinches slightly when you step through the door, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the quiet. You’re holding a plate in your hands, the aroma wafting toward him like a gentle invitation. His wide eyes soften as you pass him the food, and he takes a tentative bite. The flavors bloom on his tongue, unfamiliar yet comforting, like the memory of a warm embrace he didn’t know he’d missed.

“You made this?” he asks, glancing up at you, his eyes bright with curiosity and quiet admiration.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I did.”

“It’s really good!” he exclaims, his grin unguarded as he dives back into the meal. The crisp, vibrant vegetables catch his attention—they taste fresh and alive, reminding him of the sea’s bounty.

You smile, a mix of relief and pride lighting your expression. “I’m glad you like it. We’re sailing back to land now, but it’ll take a while before we arrive. I need to go prepare for docking. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He nods, his confidence warm and reassuring. “Oh, I’ll be fine,” he says easily, though his eyes flit around the room, seeking distraction. Then, something catches his attention—a book perched on your nightstand, its pages slightly curled from wear. “Can I read that?” he asks, pointing.

You follow his gaze and nod, a little surprised but pleased. “Sure,” you say, stepping out, leaving him with the quiet hum of the boat and his newfound curiosity.

The book feels delicate in his hands, its cover smooth and inviting. He opens it to find himself drawn into a tale of tangled fates: a woman, lost in the vast embrace of the woods, stumbles upon a brooding stranger whose silence hides his own scars. Jimin reads with rapt attention, imagining the dappled forest light and the quiet intimacy of strangers finding solace in each other. The words seem to pulse with life, vivid as seafoam and just as transient.

He’s just beginning to sense an undercurrent of tension—something deeper stirring between the characters—when the door swings open, and your voice pulls him back to the present. “We’ve docked,” you announce, your excitement barely masked under a layer of calm.

Jimin sets the book down reluctantly, his mind lingering on the unfinished story. But then he looks at you, and it occurs to him that perhaps he’s stepped into a story of his own.

Jimin closes the book with a quiet snap, trailing after you as you reach for his hand. Your fingers intertwine with his, and he follows you onto the deck, his heart racing—not with fear, but with anticipation. The morning air greets him with familiar scents of salt and brine, mingled with the faintest trace of diesel and earth. Above, seagulls carve arcs against the blue sky, their cries a lilting symphony of the shore.

The harbor is alive with motion with workers hefting crates, passengers milling about, and the rhythmic creak of moored boats swaying in the gentle tide. Jimin’s wide eyes take it all in as you weave through the crowd, his senses overwhelmed by the vibrant chaos. The sunlight gleams on water-slicked wood, and the reflections from the sea ripple across the hulls of nearby ships—small fishing boats and grand yachts alike. He stumbles once, distracted by the sheer newness of it all, but your hand steadies him, your warmth anchoring him amidst the tide of humanity.

“I want to show you my favorite place,” you muse, your voice lilting with quiet excitement. You glance over your shoulder at him, a teasing glint in your eyes that sparks his curiosity.

“What’s your favorite place?” he asks, tilting his head to study you. His voice is quiet, though he can’t hide the wonder in it.

“You’ll see soon,” you reply, your smile playful and soft. The secret wraps itself around the moment, and Jimin can’t help but feel giddy anticipation thrumming in his chest. Your hand fits so naturally in his, and the simple gesture sends a warmth through him, like the sun spilling over the waves.

As the crowd thins, you lead him down a quieter street lined with colorful storefronts and weathered cobblestones. The sounds of the harbor fade into the distance, replaced by the hum of life in this quaint corner of the world. Jimin moves to walk beside you now, his steps falling into rhythm with yours.

Then, you stop before a tall, gleaming structure—its glass facade catching the morning light and scattering rainbows across the pavement. Above the entrance, bold letters spell out Ocean Wonders. Jimin freezes, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as the irony strikes him.

“This is your favorite place?” he asks, turning to you with amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“It is,” you say, grinning as you squeeze his hand. “You’ll see why.” There’s a spark of pride in your voice, and Jimin doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up as you lead him toward the entrance. The glass doors slide open with a soft whoosh, welcoming you into the heart of your secret place. As you step inside to purchase tickets, Jimin feels the excitement settle in his bones, like the pull of a current. If this place is a reflection of you, he knows it will be something truly extraordinary.

“Don’t you find it ironic, taking a merman to an aquarium?” Jimin chuckles as you hand over the money for your tickets. His tone is light, teasing, but his gaze carries the flicker of genuine amusement. You nudge him with your shoulder, a playful smirk gracing your lips.

“Maybe, but you’re the best tour guide I could ask for,” you quip, stepping into the cavernous space.

The air inside feels cool and alive with an undercurrent of the sea’s presence, the walls painted in deep blues and verdant greens. Overhead, glass ceilings allow rays of sunlight to dapple through, casting shifting patterns of light on the floors below. Jimin’s gaze drifts upward to the massive windows that frame the ocean in the distance, the waves visible beyond the aquarium’s curated worlds.

Your footsteps echo softly as you approach a shallow touch pool filled with flat fish, their mottled skins blending with the sandy bottom. You lean over, rolling up your sleeve as you extend your fingers into the water, but the slippery creatures evade your touch with a practiced finesse. Jimin watches, amusement flickering in his eyes, and when he speaks, it’s not to mock, but to marvel.

“Flatfish have a trick,” he begins, his voice gentle but sure, “when they’re scared, they bury themselves under the sand, leaving only their eyes exposed. But they’re not just hiding; they’re watching, waiting.”

His words captivate you as much as the fish do, and you glance up at him, intrigued. The informational placard nearby doesn’t say a word about this, but of course, Jimin would know. These creatures are his neighbors, after all. His world brims with secrets science has yet to uncover, and you realize, once again, how little humans know about the depths beneath the waves.

“Keep going,” you urge, your voice laced with wonder. Jimin grins, launching into more facts about the sea life before you, his knowledge as endless as the ocean itself.

The two of you meander deeper into the exhibit, passing a chilly enclosure where penguins waddle and dive with unbridled joy. The cold air nips at your skin, and you instinctively press closer to Jimin, your arms brushing against his. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then relaxes, leaning into your warmth as if drawn by a tide he can’t resist.

“Warmer now?” he murmurs, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Much,” you reply, tilting your head to smile up at him before continuing toward the heart of the aquarium.

You find yourselves before the massive central tank—a sprawling, shimmering pool alive with schools of fish, sleek rays, and prowling sharks. From the upper level, you both peer down, watching as a keeper tosses food into the water. The sharks move with a lethargic grace, their power undeniable but softened by the dreamy quality of the water. Jimin stands close, silent, observing not the animals but the awe on your face as you take it all in.

When you venture below to the tunnel beneath the tank, the world transforms into an underwater cathedral. Light dances through the glass, rippling across your faces as the sharks glide overhead. Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours as you marvel at the creatures, your expression one of pure wonder.

“It’s funny,” he says softly, his voice breaking the spell of silence. “I see this every day, but through your eyes, it feels…different. More magical.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. A blush colors your cheeks, but you quickly deflect, pointing toward a particularly vibrant fish darting by.

Jimin laughs, his chest rumbling lightly as he shares personal anecdotes about the creatures you pass. Stories about turtles he’s untangled from nets, rays he’s raced through coral canyons, and even sharks who’ve stubbornly refused to move from his favorite sunning rock. His tales are sprinkled with humor and affection, each one painting the ocean as not just a habitat, but a home.

You listen, enraptured, giggling at his antics and marveling at his world. And as you walk together through the aquarium, you realize that this day isn’t just a glimpse into your favorite place—it’s a bridge between your worlds, built with each shared story, each laugh, and each lingering look.

You guide him to the large pool that stretches before a neat row of seats—a shimmering expanse of water where visitors can slip beneath the surface and swim with the fish. This is your favorite place, a sanctuary of dreams just beyond your reach. “I’ve always wanted to dive with the fish,” you muse softly, your voice carrying a wistful longing as you gesture toward the glass, where iridescent fish dart and glide in hypnotic rhythms.

Jimin watches you, a gentle smile gracing his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels your yearning as if it’s a song only he can hear. Swimming has always been second nature to him, as essential as breathing, and for the first time, he considers what it might mean to long for something so ordinary to him, yet so extraordinary to you.

As you wander further, voices drift toward you—animated chatter about seals and feeding time. Jimin’s ears perk up, curiosity lighting his features. “I think they’re going to feed the seals,” he says, turning to you with a spark of childlike wonder in his eyes. “Can we go see?”

“Of course,” you reply, unable to resist his enthusiasm. You take his hand and weave through the crowd, stepping out of the building and into the golden warmth of summer.

The sun kisses your skin as you approach a stone-encased inlet, a small haven of water bordered by a bridge. Beyond the enclosure, the ocean stretches endlessly, a liquid mirror reflecting the azure sky. On a central platform, three seals lounge in anticipation, their sleek bodies gleaming under the sunlight. Jimin’s eyes widen as employees emerge with buckets of fish, tossing them to the eager creatures.

The seals move with a playful grace, leaping and spinning for their rewards, drawing delighted gasps and cheers from the gathered crowd. Children press against the rails, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, while elderly onlookers smile with quiet contentment. Jimin takes it all in—the shared joy, the simplicity of this moment, and the warmth of humanity’s connection to the creatures of his world.

When the feeding ends, the crowd disperses, leaving only you and him. Hand in hand, you wander to the edge of the bridge, the faint murmur of the sea your only companion. The breeze is soft, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of freedom, and it stirs your hair like a whisper. The horizon glows faintly, the sun beginning its slow descent, painting the world in hues of gold and peach.

You stand there, side by side, the ocean sprawling endlessly before you. Jimin feels the rhythmic pulse of the waves as if they’re beating in time with his heart. He glances at you, your gaze fixed on the water, your expression peaceful yet contemplative. The salt clings to your skin, the light dances in your eyes, and Jimin thinks there’s something magical about the way you fit into this moment—part of his world, yet entirely your own.

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a ripple in the air between you.

You turn to him, your smile soft, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jimin doesn’t reply right away, his thoughts caught between the beauty of the view and the person standing beside him. Finally, he nods, a faint blush warming his cheeks as he looks back to the sea.

And as the waves lap gently against the stones, and the breeze carries the songs of the ocean to your ears, you stand there together, two worlds colliding in the quiet hush of twilight.

“You know, I’ve always loved the smell of salt in the air. There’s something about it—about the sea—that pulls at me,” you confess softly, your voice carrying a note of wistfulness, as though the waves have always whispered secrets only you can hear.

Jimin nods, his expression warm with understanding. “I get it,” he replies, his voice as calm as the tide. But before you can say anything more, he begins to shrug off his clothes.

Your eyes widen in alarm, your voice faltering. “Jimin, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, only grins mischievously before leaping into the pool with a joyful laugh, his golden tail flashing into existence as he hits the water.

“Jimin!” you hiss, leaning over the railing, your hands clutching his abandoned clothes. “Someone is going to see you!”

But Jimin only pops his head above the surface, his wet blonde hair plastered against his forehead, a cheeky glint in his eyes. The seals gather around him, chattering and circling like old friends. They nuzzle him playfully, their sleek bodies weaving through the water as though they’ve found one of their own.

He laughs—a sound so free and unguarded that it momentarily quiets your worry. He dives beneath the surface, the faint sunlight catching the shimmering scales of his tail as he glides effortlessly from one end of the pool to the other. The seals follow, mirroring his playful energy, leaping, spinning, and splashing around him. It’s as if the world has turned into a living watercolor, the water glittering in shades of gold and sapphire under the afternoon sun.

You watch, caught between panic and awe. Jimin looks so at home in the water, so alive. The grin on his face is radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen it, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Finally, when his energy wanes, Jimin pulls himself up onto the platform in the center of the pool. His golden tail glimmers briefly before vanishing, leaving him human again. You rush forward, his clothes clutched tightly in your hands, the edges of your worry returning.

“Here,” you whisper urgently, holding the bundle out to him. He dresses quickly, the playful grin still lingering on his lips as you hover, scanning the area nervously.

“Someone could have seen you,” you scold gently, your voice low but firm as you glance around to ensure the coast is clear.

“But no one did,” he says, his voice brimming with unrepentant glee. “And I’ve never swum with seals before. It was amazing!”

His smile is infectious—big and bright and full of a joy that feels like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Despite yourself, you let out a breath of laughter, shaking your head.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though the corners of your lips betray you with the faintest hint of a smile.

Jimin only chuckles, his gaze soft as he looks at you. “You should try it sometime,” he says, his tone playful but sincere. “You’d love it.”

The seals bob in the water behind him, their curious eyes following his every move, and you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

You huff softly, the sound tinged with reluctant amusement, before grabbing his hand and tugging him back inside. Together, you explore every pool, tank, and glowing monitor, each filled with vibrant tales of the underwater world. Time slips through your fingers like grains of sand as you wander, sharing smiles, laughter, and awe over the secrets of the sea.

When the day finally gives way to night, the two of you make your way toward the beach, the cool evening air laced with the scent of salt and the soft murmur of waves. The moon, a luminous pearl in the sky, casts its silver light across the water, while the stars sparkle like scattered diamonds above.

You hold his hand a little tighter, reluctant to let go, your footsteps slow and lingering as you near the shore. The rhythm of the ocean mirrors the quiet thrum of your heart.

“Today was really fun,” you murmur, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes shimmering under the moonlight.

Jimin gazes at you, warmth spreading across his chest. “It was. Thank you for sharing it with me,” he replies, his voice gentle, the sincerity in it as deep as the ocean he calls home.

“And thank you for all the extra details I never would’ve known,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand lightly. “You made it even better.”

He pauses, hope glimmering in his eyes as he asks, “Can we do it again sometime?” His voice is quiet, like a wish spoken to the wind, but his expression holds the weight of his yearning.

Your face brightens, a joyful laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I’d love that,” you answer, and the simple promise sends a warmth rippling through him.

For a moment, the world feels infinite—just the two of you beneath the starlit sky, the waves singing softly in the background. Jimin can’t help but think how much lighter he feels in your company, like the pull of the tides no longer weighs him down.

Boldly, he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your skin, his touch reverent, his gaze lingering. You let out a small, melodic giggle, and the sound feels like sunlight breaking through the night.

With a smile that’s both tender and bittersweet, Jimin takes a step back. “Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice like the whisper of waves upon the shore.

Then, as if the ocean itself is calling him home, he sheds his clothes and steps into the cool embrace of the water. His golden tail flashes in the moonlight before he dives beneath the surface, becoming one with the deep blue expanse.

You stand there for a moment longer, the sea breeze tousling your hair, your heart warm despite the night’s chill. Above you, the stars seem to shine a little brighter, as though echoing the promise of another day, another adventure, together.

“Can I talk to you?” Riley’s voice cuts through the ambient hum of the trawler, low and serious. The weight in his tone drags at your thoughts like an anchor, and a heavy sense of foreboding blooms in your chest. It’s been days since you last had peace, days since the ocean felt like a friend and not a prison.

“Yeah?” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists like a knotted rope.

“Come to my room in five minutes,” he says curtly, his words sharp and clipped. He turns on his heel before you can respond, leaving you alone with the pounding of your pulse and a growing sense of unease.

The minutes crawl, each one heavier than the last, and yet curiosity tugs at you as strongly as dread. You follow the path to his room, the confined corridors of the ship feeling tighter with each step. When you enter, you find him waiting—arms crossed, his frame rigid, his expression unreadable but intense.

“What is this about?” you ask, though your voice wavers, your throat tightening as the walls seem to press closer around you.

“I saw you,” Riley says, the words sharp and deliberate, laden with something that feels more like a trap than an explanation.

“Saw me?” you repeat, your confusion laced with a thread of panic.

“With the merman,” he declares, his lips curling into a wicked smile that makes your blood run cold. The way he says it—like he’s just unearthed treasure or a weapon—sends a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches. Ice floods your veins as your eyes go wide. You know, with unshakable certainty, that this is bad—very, very bad.

“I saw him—your little merman—at the aquarium,” Riley sneers, his voice a venomous whisper that slithers through the room. He pulls out his phone with a flourish, the screen lighting up to show a video. Jimin, bare and vulnerable, diving gracefully into the seal pool, his golden tail shimmering like sunlight dancing on the waves. He’s laughing, carefree, playing with the seals. It’s beautiful—and damning. Your stomach drops like an anchor.

“I’ve got a neat little video right here,” Riley continues smugly, shoving the screen closer to your face, his words dripping with malice.

Your heart sinks, the weight of dread pressing down on your chest—until it’s eclipsed by a sudden, white-hot fury.

“You followed us?” you snap, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Are you stalking me?”

Riley doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t deny it. He just keeps playing the video, his grin as sharp as broken glass. “I’m going to send this to every news outlet,” he says, his tone oozing malice. “Expose your little fish boy for what he is.”

Rage boils inside you, threatening to erupt. God, you hate him. Hate that you ever let him close enough to your life, close enough to know you. Four years since you’d broken up, and yet he lingers like a storm cloud, his presence heavy, suffocating, and vile.

Without thinking, your hand darts out, snatching the phone from his grasp. Your fingers move with precision, deleting the video in seconds. You shove the phone back into his chest, glaring daggers.

“I’ve got backups,” he sneers, his voice sickly sweet, like poison laced with honey.

Your vision tunnels. Fury burns brighter, hotter, until it takes over, your voice a low, dangerous growl. “If you so much as breathe that video to anyone—hell, even your mother—I swear to God, I’ll cut off your dick with a fishing wire.”

Your hand clenches into a fist, trembling at your side as you glare at him. His smugness falters for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. You don’t give him a chance to respond.

You step closer, the gap between you closing in an instant. Your hand drops to his groin, your grip ruthless and unyielding. He yelps, his smirk shattering into something closer to panic. Your voice is a venomous whisper as you lean in, your eyes locked on his.

“I’m not afraid to use force. And you know I’ll do it.” Your grip tightens, his breath hitches, and you feel your anger seeping into every word. “Stop being a pathetic, jealous little fuck who follows me around like a lovesick puppy. We’re not together, Riley. We never will be. Dating you was the dumbest mistake of my life.”

You release him with a shove, and he stumbles back, the air between you thick with tension. Every nerve in your body is alight with fury, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing any more. Instead, you don’t look back as you storm off, your footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboards, your breath shallow and sharp. The sea air greets you outside, but even its salty balm can’t soothe the fiery knot in your chest. You hate him. You hate the fact that you’re trapped on this godforsaken trawler with him for two more endless days, the horizon a prison of water. The thought of jumping ship flickers through your mind—a tempting escape—but the anchor of practicality holds you steady, bitterly tethered to this floating hell.

When the morning sun rises, painting the waves in gold, Jimin surfaces beside the boat, his arrival like a breath of fresh air. His golden hair gleams in the light, and when he spots you, his eyes soften with concern. You crouch by the edge, confiding in him the storm Riley brewed the night before. You tell him how you’ve been scouring job boards, eager to chart a new course in life, and how you’ve managed to secure an interview when you return to land.

Jimin listens intently, his tail glimmering beneath the water as he leans closer, the faint scent of the sea clinging to him. “I’m happy for you,” he says, his voice gentle but resolute. “Not about Riley, but about the job. You deserve to find something better.”

You smile softly. “I’ll handle Riley. I always do.”

Two nights later, under a canopy of stars and the watchful gaze of the moon, you meet Jimin by the beach. The waves kiss the shore in gentle whispers as you kick off your shoes and settle into the cool sand, the world feeling softer here, freer. Jimin lingers in the water, his tail flicking languidly beneath the surface, the golden scales catching the moonlight like shards of starlight scattered across the ocean.

“I’ve got good news,” you say, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face, warm and radiant.

“Oh?” His eyes brighten with curiosity, his tail swishing with anticipation.

“I got a new job,” you announce, pride coloring your voice.

His grin matches yours, wide and full of delight, as his tail flicks with an excited splash. “That’s amazing! What is it?”

“At the aquarium!” you beam, your excitement spilling out like the tide.

“That’s perfect for you,” he says, his delight as luminous as the moonlight on the water. His tail wiggles with unrestrained joy, sending ripples across the ocean’s surface.

You nod, your heart full. “It really is. No more trawlers, no more Riley.” The mention of his name makes your expression harden for a moment, but it passes quickly. “I reported him to the police and got a restraining order.”

Jimin’s gaze sharpens briefly, but he nods in approval, his protective instincts tempered by the knowledge that you can handle yourself.

“And now,” you add, your smile returning, “you can come visit me there. We can hang out at the aquarium—or here at the beach. Wherever you like.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm like waves lapping against the shore. “I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes reflecting the stars as he looks at you.

For a moment, the world feels perfect, the night serene and endless. The future, once shrouded in uncertainty, glimmers with possibilities as vast as the ocean itself.

The past two months with Jimin have felt like a dream spun from sea foam and starlight. Every date has been a treasure, each moment with him brimming with charm and sweetness that leaves you glowing for hours afterward. He took you to meet his friends, and you remember that day because it was filled with so much laughter your stomach hurt. Or that time he took you snorkeling still lingers vividly in your mind—the feel of his hand warm in yours as you glided through the cool water, the sunlight rippling across the ocean floor, revealing patches of vibrant plants and curious little fish. His laughter, soft and soothing, danced through the water, carrying with it a joy you’ve never known before.

Tonight is another of those magical nights. Jimin insisted on coming to your place alone this time, so you’ve been pacing slightly, anticipation coiling in your chest like the rising tide. When a knock finally echoes through your apartment, your heart leaps.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by the sight of Jimin in a simple gray t-shirt and black sweatpants—nothing flashy, yet somehow, he looks devastatingly perfect. His soft smile lights up the hallway, and your knees weaken beneath its warmth. He’s holding something in his hands, and as he steps forward, he reveals it—a beautiful seashell, its surface polished smooth by the tides and dappled with shades of ivory and blush.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice soft yet earnest, his cheeks dusted with a bashful pink as he extends the shell toward you.

“For me?” you ask, cradling it gently in your palms as though it were the most delicate treasure. You run your fingers over its grooves, marveling at its beauty.

“I found it when I was with my friend Taehyung on one of his treasure hunts,” Jimin explains, glancing down shyly. “It reminded me of you.”

Your heart swells, full to bursting with affection. Without a second thought, you step forward, wrapping your arms around him. His scent—clean, with a faint trace of salt and something uniquely Jimin—wraps around you as you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you so much, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love it.” You guide him inside, carefully placing the seashell in a special spot on your display cabinet. The cabinet gleams under the soft light, filled with your collection of oceanic treasures, and now this—this piece that feels more precious than all the others combined.

“Come in, sit down,” you say, turning back to him with a bright smile. “I’ve made dinner.”

You gesture toward the sofa, where the table is already set, the aroma of the food filling the room with warmth and comfort. Jimin follows your lead, his eyes softening as he watches you, and you can’t help but think that tonight is just another reminder that sometimes, life’s greatest treasures aren’t found in the depths of the ocean—but in the small, quiet moments shared with someone you love.

He settles onto the sofa, and the two of you begin to eat, the soft glow of the television bathing the room in flickering hues. A documentary on the ocean plays, its serene narration filling the air. But it’s Jimin’s quiet interjections that captivate you most—he leans closer, offering rich, vivid details about the creatures on screen, things the narrator doesn’t know, weaving a story of his own. His voice is soft yet full of life, making you smile between bites.

When the documentary ends, you find yourselves drawing closer, as if by an invisible thread pulling you together. His warmth envelops you, steady and calming, and the rhythmic beat of his heart becomes a lullaby against your senses.

His gaze meets yours, deep and earnest, the kind that seems to hold unspoken worlds within. “I’m really grateful to have met you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, carrying the weight of emotion unhidden.

You hum in response, your fingers brushing over his hand, a small but comforting gesture.

“I used to think humans were… bad,” he admits, his words tinged with vulnerability. “But you’ve only shown me kindness. You’re so nice, so sweet, and I…” His other hand reaches up, tenderly combing through your hair, his fingers a soothing presence.

You’re sitting in his lap now, his arms wrapping around you in a cocoon of comfort. His frame surrounds you, a perfect shield against the world. “All this time we’ve spent together,” he continues, his voice softening like the tide pulling back, “it’s only made me realize how much I like you.”

You feel the curve of his smile against your temple, a quiet and unspoken joy radiating from him.

“Well, I like you too, Jimin,” you say, your voice a gentle melody as you nuzzle deeper into his embrace. His hold on you tightens, protective yet tender, and he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I want to do something for you,” he murmurs, his voice brushing against your skin like a warm breeze. “Repay the favor, or… something.”

You shake your head softly, a smile spreading across your lips. “You’ve done plenty, Jimin. You don’t have to do anything more than simply be here.” Your words are quiet but firm, carrying the truth of how much his presence alone means to you.

He hums in thought, the sound resonant and deep, as though he’s weighing something in his mind. “Can I…” he starts, but hesitates, biting his bottom lip as uncertainty flickers in his expression.

Your gaze tilts up to meet his. “What is it?” you ask, chuckling lightly, your voice teasing and warm. “What’s on your mind?”

His eyes drop for a moment before returning to yours, nervous yet earnest. “I was wondering if I could touch you?” His voice is almost a whisper, laced with vulnerability, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink.

“You are touching me,” you reply, playful but soft, a knowing smile curving your lips. Still, there’s a glimmer in your eyes, a gentle understanding of the deeper meaning behind his words.

“That’s not what I mean,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly strained, as if he’s holding something back. He exhales, a hint of frustration slipping through as his lips hover near your ear. “I want to have… you,” he finally admits, his tone steady, yet laced with yearning.

You can’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and inviting, as your body instinctively shifts against him. His hardening cock behind you responds immediately, pressing into your back. Turning your head slightly, you meet his gaze with a mischievous smile. “I want you too, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice dripping with warmth. “You can touch me.”

Your words barely leave your lips before you press them to his, drawing him into a kiss that’s tender yet electric. His lips part, and the moment deepens—a dance of warmth and hunger. Your moans, soft and unrestrained, spill into his mouth, and he swallows each sound as if it were a secret meant only for him.

His hand trails downward, slow and deliberate, the pads of his fingers grazing your bare thigh before finding the waistband of your shorts. With a deft motion, his hand slips beneath the fabric, venturing under the delicate lace of your panties. His touch sends a shiver cascading through you, and you exhale sharply, arching your back into him as anticipation coils tight in your belly.

When his fingers find the sensitive bud of your clit, already slick with arousal, your breath hitches. He moves carefully at first, testing, his touch featherlight. His lips graze your cheek as he whispers into your ear, “Like this?” His voice is low, smoky, and devastatingly intimate.

“Yes—” The word escapes you on a shaky breath, your hips shifting to meet his hand as his fingers begin their deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. He circles your clit with just the right pressure, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that radiate through you.

His lips find your ear, teasing it with gentle nibbles, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into a groan as he feels you respond to his touch, your body soft and pliant against his.

As his other hand joins in the exploration, it trails lower, fingers slipping between your folds. You’re soaked now, your arousal coating his fingers as they explore your entrance. One finger slides in, slow and deliberate, sending a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“Ahh—” Your breath catches, and your words come out in a broken plea. “You can add another finger.”

He obliges, his movements careful, his second finger pressing in to join the first. He curls them inside you with precision, brushing against that soft, perfect spot that has your back arching and your voice spilling over in desperate cries of his name.

The heat between you intensifies as you grind back into him, feeling the hard length of him against you, evidence of his own growing need. He moans your name into your ear, his voice a heady mix of reverence and desire, the sound sending a rush of heat through your veins.

“You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice shaky, his control slipping as his fingers continue their exquisite work, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body trembles as the crest of your climax surges through you, a tidal wave of euphoria unleashed by his touch. When his fingers pinch your clit, it’s the final spark that ignites you, and your voice breaks in a desperate cry of his name. “Ah, Jimin!” you groan, your body thrashing in his arms as pleasure consumes you. Your walls pulse around his fingers, and he doesn’t stop, coaxing you through the high with ease, his voice a soothing hum of reassurance.

When the aftershocks make you hypersensitive, you shift off his lap, your chest heaving as you fight for air. The room feels electric, charged with the heat of your shared intimacy. Your hands tremble slightly as you strip away your shorts and panties, baring yourself fully to him. “I need you,” you murmur, voice breathless but determined. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, his pupils blown with lust, dark as the midnight sea. His arousal is evident, straining against the fabric of his black sweatpants. When you tug them down, revealing his dick—he’s bare beneath them, as always—you bite your lip at the sight. It’s a fact that never fails to make your pulse race.

“You’re never wearing underwear,” you whisper, your voice tinged with amusement and heat.

His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before your fingers wrap around him. He hisses through his teeth, his hips twitching forward as if drawn to your touch by magnetic force. “Your dick is so pretty,” you murmur, stroking him slowly, savoring the feel of him in your hand.

“T-thanks,” he chokes out, his voice a strained mix of pleasure and restraint. You smile softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his flushed tip, tasting the salt of him. His groan is low and guttural, a sound that vibrates through your core as you take him into your mouth.

You tease him with languid, deliberate movements, your lips sliding over his cock while your tongue flicks against the sensitive underside. His hands tangle in the fabric of the couch, his breath coming in sharp gasps as you explore him. But just as he begins to unravel, you pull away with a soft, wet pop, leaving him trembling beneath you.

“Maybe I’ll give you a proper taste another time,” you tease, your voice thick with desire. “Right now, I need you to fuck me.”

Jimin’s head falls back, and he releases a shaky laugh, his hands flexing at his sides as though grounding himself. “Yeah, sounds good,” he stammers, his voice hoarse with want.

You climb onto his lap, your knees pressing into the soft cushion on either side of his powerful thighs. Your hand wraps around his dick, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a sensation that has you throwing your head back with a moan. “God, Jimin,” you breathe, your fingers clutching his shoulders as you take him fully inside you.

He groans, deep and guttural, his head tipping forward to rest against your collarbone. “So tight,” he pants, his grip firm on your hips, as though anchoring himself in the moment.

You chuckle softly, rolling your hips experimentally, savoring the way he fills you. “It’s good, isn’t it?” you murmur, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Better than good,” he grunts, his voice rough as the sea during a storm. His hands guide you, encouraging your movements as you begin to ride him, your bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as the tides.

A playful smile curls your lips as you lean closer, your voice light with mischief. “Better than merfolk sex?”

His laughter is strained but genuine, a sound that melts into a groan as your pace quickens. “It’s… different,” he manages, his words punctuated by the hitch in his breath.

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his as your movements slow, rolling your hips languidly to draw out every sensation. “Good different?” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your ragged breathing.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, and in that moment, you know he means it. It sends shivers down your spine as you pick up the pace. You ride him with a ferocity that leaves no room for restraint, your body taking what it craves as his dick fills you perfectly, over and over again.

Jimin’s head falls back, his golden hair cascading around his face like a halo, shimmering even in the dim light. His beauty is almost otherworldly, but it’s the raw humanity of his reactions—his moans, his gasps, the way his lips part in ecstasy—that makes your heart race even faster.

Your hands grip his shoulders for support, and you lean in to kiss him, pouring every ounce of your desire into the connection. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, and the sound of your shared groans fills the air like a symphony. When his hips begin to rise and meet yours, thrusting into you with a powerful rhythm, you cry out.

“There!” you scream, your voice trembling with bliss as he strikes that perfect spot deep inside you, sending your mind spiraling into chaos.

He laughs breathlessly against your lips, his tone tinged with mischief and triumph. His fingers grip your hips firmly, his touch possessive as though anchoring you to him. He kisses you again, slower this time, his lips devouring yours with unspoken promises.

“I want to have merfolk sex with you too,” you pant, the words spilling from you unbidden as your eyes lock onto his, searching for… something. Something intangible, something only he can give you.

Jimin’s breath hitches, his smile faint but wicked. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice strained yet teasing. “Right now, I just want to feel this.”

You groan, your chest pressing against his as his hips surge upward, faster and harder, the rhythm pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck,” you gasp, feeling the heat coil tight and hot in your core. “I’m going to come again soon.”

His response is a low, broken moan, his lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your lips finding the tender skin there. You kiss him softly, your teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp, and when he mirrors your actions, nibbling at your neck, goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Your breath catches, your body shuddering as his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, each one stoking the fire inside you until it finally erupts. “Jimin…,” you cry out, his name a prayer on your lips as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You collapse against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you tremble through the aftershocks, your walls squeezing him tight.

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice cracking as he feels the way you pulse around him. “I didn’t think it could get tighter. Fuck.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound breathy and light, which only makes him groan louder, his hips faltering. His need is palpable, every thrust a desperate chase toward his own release.

“God, it feels so good,” he pants, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“It does,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair as you murmur in his ear, “Now come inside me. Fill me up.”

Your hips move together in a rhythm that feels almost sacred, each motion drawing you closer, tethering you in a shared moment of bliss. Jimin throws his head back, his golden hair glistening with a faint sheen of sweat as he gasps your name, the sound reverberating like music in your ears. His body shudders beneath yours, his release spilling into you as his breaths come in ragged pants.

“Holy—,” he starts, his voice cracking with the remnants of his climax, but you smile, running your fingers through his tousled locks, grounding him.

“It was amazing,” you finish softly, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss is languid, unhurried, your lips brushing his with the tenderness of someone who knows this moment will linger in your memory forever.

You remain still, savoring the aftershocks coursing through both your bodies, the quiet intimacy of him still buried within you. His cock twitches faintly, and you giggle as you feel the first trickles of his release slipping out of you, warm and unhurried, down to his thighs.

“Maybe we should clean up,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, his laughter soft and warm, “it’s definitely sticky.”

“Come take a bath with me,” you suggest, sliding off him with care, your fingers intertwining with his as you pull him to his feet. Together, you make your way to the bathroom, your giggles echoing in the quiet space as you both use tissues to clean up.

The bathwater fills the tub in a cascade of steam and heat, and when it’s ready, you shed the last remnants of your clothing, stepping in with Jimin close behind. The water embraces you like a warm cocoon, and as you settle down, Jimin takes his place behind you, his sturdy thighs cradling you as they had on the couch. His hands move to your hair, working in gentle strokes as he massages your scalp, letting the warm water cascade over your skin.

“This is nice,” you murmur, your head tilting back to rest against his chest.

“It is,” he agrees, though there’s a soft chuckle in his voice. “But I’ll probably shift into my merman form soon.”

You smile, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his bicep. “I love when you’re a merman.”

He beams at your words, and with a shimmer of light, golden sparkles dance around him like fireflies, transforming his legs into a resplendent golden tail. The fins spill over the edge of the tub, their iridescent sheen catching the bathroom light, making the moment feel dreamlike.

You shift slightly, giving him more space as the water ripples around his transformation. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again, his tail flexing gently beneath the surface.

“Do you… maybe,” he begins, his voice tentative, but there’s an almost boyish eagerness in his tone that makes you smile.

“Just say it, Jimin,” you tease softly, leaning further into his embrace.

He laughs, his breath warm against your temple as he gathers his courage to speak.

“Do you want to date me? Become my mate?” Jimin’s voice carries a quiet hope, his brown caramel eyes searching yours as if the entire ocean hinges on your answer.

“Like a girlfriend? Like a relationship?” you ask, tilting your head, your gaze diving into the endless warmth of his eyes.

He bites his lip, hesitating for a moment before his words tumble out. “Yeah. It’s a relationship, but being mates is more than that. It’s a promise—a bond for life. At least, that’s what it means for merfolk.” He pauses, his voice softening. “But we can take it slow if you want to.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you nuzzle your head into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart grounding you. “I want to be your mate,” you whisper, the truth of it blooming in your chest like a sunrise over the waves.

Relief floods his face as he kisses your forehead, his golden tail flicking above the water with a ripple that catches the light. It’s such a simple motion, yet it sends your heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.

You sit there for a while, submerged in the warmth of the water and the closeness of him. His lips find yours, soft and sweet, and your hands wander—tracing the smooth scales of his tail and the hard planes of his chest. Time seems to dissolve, lost in the salty scent of him, the ocean a mere echo in the distance.

Then, like a sudden wave crashing on the shore, a thought surfaces in your mind. “Do you maybe want to help me with a work thing?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hopeful excitement.

He chuckles, his lips quirking in that way that makes your stomach flip. “What is it?”

“Well…” you begin, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’m hosting this merfolk event at the aquarium for kids. I’ve got this mermaid costume and everything, but I thought… maybe you could show up as a merman in the big pool? We could dive and swim together—give the kids a show they’ll never forget. Obviously, I’ll tell them you’re wearing a costume too,” you add quickly, your cheeks warming at the thought of how much you want this—not just for the kids, but for yourself.

Jimin blinks at you for a moment before his face lights up with a smile as dazzling as the sunlight on the waves. “Sure,” he says, his voice warm. “I’d love to.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, deeper this time, and it’s then that you realize you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. Not his salty scent, not his plush, addictive lips, and certainly not the way he makes your heart feel like it’s swimming in its own current of joy.

The day of the merfolk event has finally arrived, and the aquarium is alive with an energy you’ve never felt before. Laughter and whispers of anticipation fill the air as kids clutch their parents’ hands, eyes wide with wonder. The normally tranquil space is transformed into a shimmering underwater dreamscape. Seashells and trailing strands of faux kelp adorn every corner, while cardboard cutouts of merfolk in a spectrum of skin tones stand as guardians of the magic. Soft, ethereal music hums overhead, making the air feel thicker, as if you’ve already slipped beneath the waves.

Backstage, near the pool you adore, you wrestle with the fabric tail of your mermaid costume, trying to coax it into place. It’s always been your favorite spot in the aquarium—the big pool where the water gleams like liquid sapphire, reflecting the ceiling’s soft lights.

You’re muttering to yourself when Jimin appears, his presence as effortless as a tide rolling in. His golden hair is swept back, and his smile—wide and warm—makes your heart skip.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you say, flashing him a quick grin as you tug futilely at the tail.

“Hi, babe,” he mimics with a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your predicament.

“You don’t have to put that on,” he says, stepping closer with a glint of mischief. “I have something better for you.”

From behind his back, he reveals a bundle of something strange yet mesmerizing—a ribbon of kelp, but unlike any you’ve seen. Its tendrils shimmer with an otherworldly glow, the orange hue reminiscent of a sunset bleeding into the horizon.

“What is it?” you ask, reaching out to touch it.

“This,” he says, his fingers brushing yours as he places it in your hands, “is Merwhisper Kelp. It lets humans become merfolk for one hour.” His voice is soft, filled with excitement and affection. “I thought you might like to swim with me today as a real mermaid. Make it… special.”

The idea leaves you breathless, your thoughts spinning as you meet his gaze. “Special how?” you tease, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “We could show them a merfolk mating ritual.”

Your cheeks flush crimson as your jaw drops. “Like… having sex in front of the kids?!”

He bursts out laughing, the sound rich and musical, shaking his head. “No, no, no. It’s not like human sex, I promise,” he explains, his voice steady despite his amusement. “There’s nothing explicit about it—it’s more like a dance. A connection. Trust me, it’ll be beautiful.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts away your embarrassment, replacing it with intrigue. “You’ll guide me?” you ask softly, your fingers tightening around the kelp.

“Always,” he says, his smile gentle as the tide.

Your heart stirs, and with a nod, you release the fabric tail you’d been fighting with. “Okay. That sounds… amazing.”

He leans in then, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that feels like a promise, warm and lingering.

“I’ll head out first and start the show,” you say, your voice lighter now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Grabbing a robe to cover yourself, you glance back at him, your smile mirrored in his golden gaze. “Wait for me, yeah?”

“Always,” he says again, his voice steady and sure, as you step out toward the glowing auditorium.

You stand before the vast, crystalline pool, its surface shimmering under the soft glow of the aquarium lights, and the crowd of children before you vibrates with barely-contained energy. Their laughter bubbles up like champagne, effervescent and infectious, as their wide eyes focus on you with wonder.

“Hi, everyone!” you begin, your voice bright and warm, your hands clasped over your heart. “Are you excited to be here today?”

A chorus of giggles and shouts fills the room, their enthusiasm washing over you like a wave.

“That’s wonderful! Today, I have something very special to share with you,” you continue, leaning in as if confiding a grand secret. “Today, I’m asking you to believe in magic and fantasy—to let your imaginations take you somewhere extraordinary.” Your eyes sparkle as you gesture toward the pool.

“My boyfriend and I are going to show you how merfolk swim and dance underwater,” you announce with a grin, watching their faces light up in awe. “We’re going to wear costumes, of course,” you add with a playful wink, “but I want you to imagine it’s all real. Because, really, anything is possible if you can dream it. Right?”

The children nod eagerly, their cheers like tiny waves crashing onshore.

“Oh, and let me introduce someone special,” you say, gesturing toward your coworker. “This is Simon, and he’s going to narrate everything while I’m underwater!” Simon gives a mock bow, earning a ripple of applause and laughter.

With a final smile and wave, you step backstage, your heart racing, where you find Jimin waiting for you. His soft smile is a beacon of reassurance, grounding you as excitement tingles through your veins.

“You’re really about to make my dreams come true, you know that, right?” you say, your words spilling out in a giddy laugh as you reach for the Merwhisper Kelp in his hands.

“That was the whole point,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he leans in to kiss you, soft and lingering.

As the kelp touches your tongue, an electric sensation ripples through your body. Your legs feel strange—like they’re dissolving and reforming all at once. Sparkles erupt in a dazzling cascade around you, and a gasp escapes your lips as you collapse gently to the ground.

You gape in amazement at the transformation. A shimmering silver tail, adorned with translucent scales that catch the light like diamonds, extends where your legs used to be. Your torso is now clad in a delicate seashell bra that feels as though it was crafted from the ocean itself.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder as you trail your fingers over the scales. The tail feels strange yet beautiful—foreign and familiar all at once.

Jimin kneels beside you, his golden eyes alight with admiration. “You look stunning as a mermaid too,” he says softly, his hand brushing over yours. “Now, go on. Jump into the water—I’ll be right behind you.”

You nod, still breathless with awe, and begin sliding toward the edge of the pool. The smooth tiles give way to the cool embrace of the water as your tail dips in, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. Tentatively, you let yourself slide further, the pool enveloping you.

The moment your body is fully immersed, it’s as if the world has shifted. You float effortlessly, your tail moving with a fluid grace you never imagined. Tiny bubbles rise to the surface, carrying your laughter with them. The water cradles you, weightless and serene, and you can’t help but giggle at the pure magic of it all.

Words fail you—this feeling is beyond description, an ethereal blend of joy and wonder. You glance up, and through the rippling surface, Jimin smiles down at you. In this moment, the world feels limitless, and magic is not just something you believe in—it’s something you live.

You feel the warmth of a hand at the small of your back, where the delicate curve of your skin meets the smoothness of your shimmering scales. Jimin glides up beside you, his smile a radiant beacon in the water. Without hesitation, you swim into him, pressing your lips to his in a quick, electrifying kiss before gliding forward, emerging into view for the children to see.

Your heart swells—so full of love, it almost feels as though it could burst from your chest. You reach for his hand, and the connection between you is a thread of pure joy, binding your hearts together with unspoken promises. Together, you swim effortlessly beside the swaying kelp, darting through rocky formations, surrounded by the shimmering world of the deep, until you come to the massive glass wall that separates you from the fascinated eyes of the children.

As you break through the surface, the children’s gasps of awe and delight fill the air, their faces alight with wonder. You wave, your heart fluttering as Simon spins tales of merfolk—stories gifted to him by Jimin himself.

Turning toward Jimin, your gaze finds him, and the world around you seems to melt away. His eyes, soft and deep, hold your universe within them, a world built on love and unspoken understanding. He reaches for both your hands, lifting them in front of your faces as he gently presses his body against yours. His chest against yours feels like coming home.

With a slow, tender movement, he begins to spin you in the water, guiding you in a dance as old as time. You laugh, the sound bubbling through the water, as your tails entwine in fluid harmony. His kiss comes then—deep, slow, full of longing—as if he’s been waiting for this moment all his life. In the embrace of his lips, you feel like everything has led to this. Like you were born to dance like this, to love like this. It’s as if two worlds—yours and his—are colliding, fusing together in one seamless, breathtaking whole.

This is what merfolk love must be—this swirling connection, this surrender to the current of passion and tenderness. The kiss deepens, the world slipping away into a blissful haze, and for a moment, you can’t hear the laughter of the children. All that matters is this—a love so pure, so magical, it transcends everything. The only thing that exists in this moment is Jimin, the love you share, and the extraordinary gift he’s given you.

The world is perfect here, in the waters where love flows as effortlessly as the ocean itself. And you are exactly where you belong, with him.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle

→ Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst @women-kisseer @13-manggaetteok

→ Author’s endnote: waaaah 🤧 Personally, I think this one turned out so much better than Tae’s (not that I don’t think that was good!) but I guess it’s just a lot easier for me to write Jimin? Anyway. What do you guys think of this one? Are you still excited for the last two? ✨💜

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 2 days ago

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Sorry - Chapter 8

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Jon barely shifted the Mustang into park before jumping out and sprinting toward the house's front door. “Dom!” he called, frowning as the house was deathly quiet. Glancing back, he noticed her car was not parked out front, and his heart sank further. He then walked over to the garage door, his frown deepening as he noticed it empty too.

Sighing. Jon pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dom’s number, cursing as it went straight to voicemail “Fuck” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “So fucking stupid.”

He tried calling Dom two more times before calling her sister.

“Hello?”

“Muf–”

“You fucked up.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jon replied, trying to keep his temper in check. “I need to talk to her, she with you?”

“Mmhm,” Desiree, replied as she looked over at her sister who was sitting on the couch, staring off into space. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you, Jon.”

“Look, just put her on the pho–”

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Desiree stood from her seat on the couch and went into the kitchen. “Going back to your ex is crazy Jon! What were you thinking?!”

“I didn’t go back to my damn ex! I just–”

“You just what? Went over there to chill?” She scoffed “Just give her time. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.” Desiree didn’t give him a chance to respond before she hung up the phone.

“FUCK!” Jon yelled out and threw his phone down on the table.

DominiqueWalkerr_

liked by jonathanfatu, uceyjucey and 800,000 others

DominiqueWalkerr_: felt cute, definitely gonna delete later 💋

view all comments

jonathanfatu: 😘 😮‍💨❤️

user: i miss jimmy with naomi!

↪user: YESS! was just talking about that on twitter! THEY complemented each other!

↪ jonathanfatu: don't do that! Take this shit outta my fiance's comments.

Friday Afternoon

Dominique stayed with her sister for the rest of the week. In her mind, she and Jon were over. There was nothing he could do to fix this. He ran back to his ex again ain't no way she was just going back to him. While she was in the wrong for not being honest about her stance on marriage he was even more wrong.

Dominque let out an audible groan as she made her way into the arena that was hosting Friday Night Smackdown. She had tried every excuse in the book to get the day off, but it was short notice and they would have nobody to fill in for her.

“Now whose ass do I have to beat for putting a frown on that pretty face.” Dominque stopped walking at the sound of a very familiar voice. She had a wide smile on her face as she made eye contact with Dave and walked closer to him.

“Dave?! What are you doing here?” She said, giggling as he pulled her into a hug and lifted her off her feet.”

Dave Bautista looked like he hadn’t aged a day. Before Jon, Dave was the one Dominique thought she was going to marry. But after he left the WWE in 2014, their relationship couldn’t handle the distance. Their split was amicable, with both of them being extremely civil with each other. But as Dominique stood there in front of the first man she ever loved, she couldn’t help but think this was a sign. Maybe Dave was the one she was supposed to be with.

“Y’all in my neck of the woods. Of course, I had to come by and see Hunter.” He said answering her question. “And you.” He muttered the last part, as his eyes did a sweep over her, she didn’t miss the way his stare locked on her bare ring ringer before meeting her eyes again. They stood there staring at each other before they both burst into laughter.

“Whatever Dave.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

“I had to try, I mean imagine my surprise when I found out you were engaged to little Jonathan Fatu. You know I used to hang out with his pops and uncles back in the day.”

“You make it seem like you’re so old Dave,” Dominique said, rolling her eyes with a chuckle.

“I'm 53 years old Dee. I think that's pretty old.” They both laughed.

“Oh fuck” Josh whispered, his eyes bugging out his head and she saw Dominique and Dave fucking Bautista talking. “Oh shit Uce… this ain’t good.” He said looking over to Joe who seemed very disinterested. “Go interrupt them”

“What?” Joe snorted, raising an eyebrow at Josh Why me?”

Josh sucked his teeth. “Cause ain’t you like friends with him or something.” Joe let out a huff and began to walk towards Dave and Dominique but Jon stepped in front of him.

“Um hello, you two don’t know how to answer a phone?”

“Oh, uh..” Josh trailed off as his eyes flickered behind Jon. Jon frowned and turned around to see what Josh was looking at and his heart dropped into his stomach.

“What the fuck?” He whispered as he watched Dave lean down and hug Dominique. his voice thick with disbelief as he watched Dominique respond to Dave's hug. Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dominique’s face. The way she looked at Dave—it wasn’t just a friendly exchange. It was something else, something that made Jon’s chest tighten in ways he hadn’t expected. He could feel his pulse quickening, the jealousy crawling up his throat, even as his mind tried to catch up with what was happening.

“Jon…” Josh said hesitantly, but Jon wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. His eyes were locked on Dominique and Dave, his body tense with a mix of frustration, helplessness, and raw jealousy. “Aye man, relax.. They could just be catching up.”

Josh and Joe shared a look before returning their attention to Jon who was glaring at Dave and Dominique. “Uce, do not go over there and start shit… Be level-headed. That’s Hunter’s boy… we don’t need no shit coming our way.” Joe warned. Jon sucked in a deep breath and gave Joe a curt nod before walking over to Dominique and Dave.

Jon clenched his jaw tight as he made his way over to the pair. He cleared his throat as he got closer, causing Dom and Dave to look over in his direction. Dave looked between the of them before excusing himself. “Can I talk to you?” Jon asked her, his voice coming off more hostile and rough than he intended.

“Jon..” Dominique trailed off with a sigh, her shoulder sagging as she turned her attention to him. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

"I don't want to fight either," Jon said, his tone softening slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I just - You gotta know I wasn’t on no disrespectful shit Dom. I wasn’t even thinking... I was going to my mom’s and I just…” He trailed off with a shrug. “I shouldn’t have went in. I should have come back home to you.”

“But you didn’t. Like honestly I’m at fault here too right? I mean I wasn’t honest about my stance on marriage but I have and would never do the shit that you did. Give that girl your number. Foul as fuck. And I forgave you for the whole Trinity situation the first time but now… I can’t”

“I know I messed up,” Jon repeated, trying to keep his voice steady, but now refusing to make eye contact with her. “But, Dom, I didn’t go to Trinity for some… rebound or whatever you’re thinking. I just needed to clear my head. But that kiss.” He stopped himself, his eyes going wide as he looked over at her. He watched as Dominque inhaled a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes at him.

“What kiss?” Dominique asked, he heart now pounding in her chest.

“Dominique, please. I– she kissed me but I pushed her away immediately.” He tried to reach out and grab her hand but she shook her head and backed away from him.

“Sure, okay,” She said as she rolled her eyes, not believing a word he said... “Here I was, just telling Dave that I was gonna swallow my pride and apologize to you and you out here running back to your ex?!”

“I wish you stop saying that shit.” he hissed. “Ain’t nobody running back to Trin.” By now. Josh and Joe had walked closer to them ready to separate the couple. Dominique snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So if you’re not running back to her what are you doing then?! You got drunk and went to her. You left our home and went to her and then your standing here telling me you kissed her?!” Dominique scoffed as she started backing away from Jon. “Nah, you got it. It’s obvious that you wanna still be with Trinity so i’m not gonna stop you. Go feel the glow or whatever.”

Josh coughed out a laugh whiched cause Jon and Joe to glare over at him.

“Dominique wait! Just listent to me.” Jon called out as he started following her down the hall. “I want you. I want to be with you! I wanna work this out.”

Dominique suddenly stopped, causing him to almost bump into to her. She turend on her heels and glared at him. “I wanted to work this out too. But.. I can’t.. Not after you just told me you kissed her.” Dominique shook her head and turned around again to walk away from Jon only to bump into someone. Once she seen who it was, she wasn’t able to hold back her emotions anymore.

Dominique watched as Trinity gasped and looked past her to look at Jon, and that’s when Dominique lost it. Dominique's fist connected with Trinity's jaw before anyone could react. The sound of the impact echoed through the hallway, followed by a collective gasp from the onlookers. Trinity stumbled backward, her hand flying to her face in shock.

“Oh shit!” Josh called out, him and Joe rushing foward to try to stop the fight along with Jon.

“Dominique!” Jon called out, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her away from Trinity before she could land another hit. “Stop.. Chill baby.”

Dominique wrangled her way out of Jon’s grasp and before she could stop herself, she slapped him in his face. “I swear to god... I’m done. Stay the hell away from me!” She hastily wiped away the tears that were now coming down her eyes, she gave him one more heartbroken glance before walking away.

Authors Note: huh... i mean y'all did say Dom was gonna drive Jon into the arms of another woman 😬

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moonchild9350 · 21 hours ago

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Lavender Fields-Chapter 1: Different

Summary: you give an insight into your daily life within the lab, a place you've never left after being brought here by humans. life is mundane and repetitive, that is until you meet Hyunjin, your new lab technician.

Pairing: Hyunjin x humanoid!gn!reader

Genre: sci fi au, romance, au, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: verbal and brief physical abuse

Notes: welcome to the Lavender Fields series! I am pumped to release this series and embark on this journey with y'all :) I hope you enjoy the first chapter and as always, let me know what you think!

Taglist open-comment or message me to be added! (age must be in bio or pinned)

Series Summary: you, a humanoid from a different planet, was born within a lab here on earth in the near future, your days filled with servitude and testing within the labs to learn more about your kind as your kind are not able to feel emotion. you had nothing to look forward to until you met Hyunjin, a technician assigned to you. you learn much at his hands and invaluable lessons, enlightening your once purposeless life.

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024).

Series Masterlist

“Time to wake up!”

You open your eyes at the shrill sound of the cheery voice that is speaking over the loudspeaker signaling the start of another day. You sit up, and blink, clearing the sleep from your eyes before swinging your legs out of bed to get up.

The minimalist room is cold, the chill brushing against your skin in the early hours of the morning. You don’t mind, however, as you are made to withstand the cold.

You walk to the door and open it, merging into the crowd of people hurrying down the corridor. You follow the queue, all of you on your way to the the morning room, a place where you prepare for the day. It is quiet, no one around you utters a word, casting an almost eerie silence, with only the pitter patter of bare feet on the floor.

Once at your destination, a lady dressed in blue guides you to a stall, your daily outfit hanging from the partition that blocks off a changing area so you can dress in privacy.

There's a small mirror plastered on the wall, tiny cracks scattered throughout from years of age, but still usable nonetheless. You look at your reflection, your face puffy from sleep and eyes bloodshot. You tossed and turned last night as you kept being awakened by vivid images flashing across your mind leaving you in a panic.

You eyes travel down to the small engraving on the side of your neck that has been there since birth. It blends in perfectly with your skin, the intricate swirls almost looking like a tattoo.

Sighing, you grab the white garment from its hanger and slide it over your head, the scratchy material rubbing against your skin, the feeling almost akin to sandpaper. You don’t mind however, as you can’t tell since you’re not programmed to feel unlike most humans.

Once dressed, the lady fixes your hair, brushing the long strands that travel down your back and land at your tailbone. She ushers you out of the stall once done, ordering you to follow the others in line to your assigned work room.

You arrive in minutes, your desk set up with your task for the day. Today looks like you’re organizing testing supplies as there’s a haphazard pile of tubes, wires, and other things in the center of the desks.

Sitting down, you begin your work, keeping your eyes on your materials that are in front of you. It’s silent in the room as no one says a peep.

Watchers pace the rows with their hands behind their backs, their eyes trained on you and your peers, ensuring the job gets done appropriately.

If you mess up a task, they scold you but it makes no difference. You do not understand the meaning behind the words, not understanding why they scrunch their face up in a scowl, spitting words in your face as to what you did wrong and how useless you are.

The morning passes and you work until your stomach growls, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. You immediately put down your supplies as there’s the ring of a bell over the intercom, signaling it’s time to make your way to the lab.

You only get food after morning work and going to the lab, the humans claiming it’s a treat, a present for being obedient. That’s why you obeyed, completed your work, and let them experiment on you without complaints.

So is the life here within Biofuture labs.

-- --

You are y/n, from the planet Gevora, which is light years away from planet earth in which you now reside. You resemble the humans here on earth, the only difference being you are emotionless, as they were not needed on your home planet.

Your only home that you’ve ever known is Biofuture labs, a name you’ve seen many times on the doors you pass on a daily basis. You were born here, within the confines of this building, and taken away from your mother at age five, where you were put with the other children from your planet.

You don’t remember much about your mother, but then again you don’t remember much of anything of your past. Only that you are 25 years old and you have the number 032518 inscribed on your arm.

Your days are busy and long here within the lab, the technicians making sure no one is idle. Mornings are spent completing your assigned task, similar to a job, a concept you know of because of a description you read in a book.

Mid to late mornings are spent in the lab, your assigned lab technician running different tests on you, jotting down responses and results.

You’re not sure what they’re testing for, but you’ve noticed they take special interest in you for some reason, as they run extra tests on you, whispering to each other while staring at you all the while.

Today was no different. An orderly leads you to lab five, the typical space you spent every day in for testing. You walk into the empty space, your eyes roaming the area to take in your surroundings.

The walls are a ghostly white and there’s a table with two chairs in the center of the room. There’s nothing else present except for a window on the wall next to the door. However, every time you try to look through it, you only see your reflection.

You walk towards one of the chairs, pull it out, and sit down, placing your hands in your lap. You look at the man across from you and wait for the session to begin.

Your lab tech’s name is Raoul. He’s bald with piercing black eyes that are unsettling to you, the feeling unknown but just doesn’t sit right. He never smiles at you and sometimes he'll scream.

When these events occur, you stare back at him as something bubbles up inside you. It’s a gnawing feeling deep in your gut, that sometimes spreads to other parts of your body. If it goes on long enough, you start to see spots and break out into a sweat, all while your hands start to tremble.

You’re not sure what is happening when that occurs and no one takes the time to explain...not that you ask. One time you discussed the sensation with one of your peers during a free period, away from the prying ears of the technicians. However, after explaining what occurred, they didn’t know what was happening either, as they’ve never felt that way.

You stared into this man’s eyes, hoping that it would be a good session, and not one where he screams as you really don’t want to feel that way again.

“Y/n, are you ready for today’s session?” Raoul asked as he pulls out a stack of cards.

“Yes,” you respond, your gaze flickering down to the cards in his hands.

You watch as he pulls out the first card and holds it up to you. You realize it’s the same test that you’ve completed this whole week, the same cards, the same images. You don’t understand why they keep making you repeat the test. Are you doing something wrong?

“What do you see here y/n?”

You gaze at the image, your eyes roaming the card. You tilt your head to look at it a different angle, trying to get a good grasp of the concept.

It’s a mess of a picture, the picture not clear cut, but if you look at it long enough you can start to make out wings of a maybe an…insect or a bird? You think a moment more before nodding your head, agreeing on your answer.

“A butterfly,” you say plainly, your eyes settling on Raoul again.

He doesn’t respond to your answer, but instead places the card aside just to pick up the next one.

“And here?”

Once more, you stare at the picture, the image strange. This picture has red on the top and bottom of the black image. You remember the feeling you had whenever Raoul screams at you, hurling names that are not yours and sound insulting. This picture reminds you of that in a way, but you can’t put a name to it.

Taking a breath, you respond, “bear with blood on its head and feet.”

You watch Raoul’s eyebrows raise briefly and within a second it’s gone, his face devoid of any reaction. Did you answer wrong? Why is he looking at you like that? Your eyes follow as he puts the card down and picks up another.

And so it goes, card after card as time passes. Your responses are simple, “two people, animal skin, another butterfly, another animal skin, a face.”

At the last three cards, you sit up straighter and your eyes get bigger as something warm flows through you. This is the same reaction you had the previous days of the week. Raoul watches your every move, ensuring he doesn’t miss your reaction.

“A tiger, a person, a crab,” you respond in succession.

You let out a breath as he sets the last card down, the test seeming to be over. Raoul leans forward and stares at you with narrowed eyes. You don’t move but stare back, waiting on the next test.

“You are nothing, you know that?” Raoul says, spittle flying from his mouth.

You cock your head, unsure of what he meant. He lets out a loud laugh at your reaction, his hands coming down to slap the table. You jolt in your seat at the sound, your eyes wide as the hairs stick up on your arms, and little bumps form. You feel your heart beat faster, the thump thump pounding against your skin.

Despite this, you continue to stare at him, watching as he turns red in the face from laughing.

“You don’t even know what you’re feeling! I knew it was too good to be true!”

What you are feeling? What does he mean by the word ‘feeling?’ You watch as Raoul gets up and walks your way, stopping right next to you. He grabs your hair and forces you to look up at him.

You comply without protest, your hands still in your lap.

“You. Are. Nothing.”

He releases your hair with a shove, your hands reaching out for the table to catch yourself from falling. You blink once, twice before an orderly is next to you, ordering you to get up and follow them out of the room. It seems today’s testing is over.

“Dinner will be in a few hours. You will wait in your room until said time,” the orderly saids, glancing at you in her periphery.

You nod and continue to follow her all the way to your room. She unlocks the door and lets you in, closing and locking it once you cross the threshold. You glance at the door before glancing at your room, taking in the few belongings you have.

Your bed sits in the corner, a simple blue blanket placed neatly on top, your pillow fluffed and ready for nighttime. Next to your bed is a pile of an assortment of books that you have acquired over the years. You often sit curled up in the corner reading, filling your head with other worlds and what is in them.

However, your most prized possession is the mural on the wall across from your bed that you have been working on. In different vibrant shades of purple, you have painted lavender flowers. The wall is covered in delicate strokes of the purple stems, accompanied by the brown stalk that anchors it to the ground.

You discovered the flower in one of your books, your eyes lighting up at the picture. You remember touching the page with your fingertips, lightly brushing over the image as you stared at the beautiful colors. After that moment, you worked extra hard to earn favor with some of the orderlies so you could acquire paints.

You were going to recreate the scene so you could go to the place with the flowers, the pretty lavender flowers. That was years ago. The wall was halfway painted in the beauties, causing you to feel warm inside.

Walking further inside, you grabbed your paints and paintbrush and kneeled down to paint, your mind drifting in the mundane task that you have grown accustomed to. Your eyes wandered over the wet paint, as you paid attention to the tiniest detail, wanting to get the picture just right.

Time passed and you painted, lost in the world of lavender, that you didn’t hear the bell outside your door signaling dinner. You jumped when you heard the door open, dropping your paintbrush in the process, the bristles brushing against the hem of your dress, staining it in purple.

“Dinner time, get up,” the orderly said, crossing her arms when she noticed you weren’t ready.

You had no time to put your supplies away so you gently set them down and got up, your knees cracking with the sudden movement. You followed the lady to a hall, and sat down next to one of your peers. Dinner was served and everyone ate in relative silence as there was not much to say when everyone did the same thing day in and day out.

The rest of the afternoon passed with no significance. Settling into bed, you pulled the blanket up to your chin. Yawning, you turned your head to gaze at the mural, your mind drifting to how it would be escape to the field, to smell their scent, and touch their delicate petals.

With these thoughts you drifted off, another day come and gone of your life here within the lab. — — Days passed, which turned into weeks. You were subjected to the same tests again and again. You were yelled at and chastised over and over, the same phrase repeated on a daily basis.

“You are nothing.”

You sat there as you were tossed around, your hair disheveled, your arms pinched, your face spit on as Raoul ran his tests day in and day out. You felt that weird sensation as before, but a new one had started to develop.

On a particular day, you endured the typical testing, but when Raoul repeated the same phrase to you, you felt a pang in your heart, and your eyes clouded over causing your vision to be blurry.

You had no idea what was going on and tried to blink, jumping in your seat as you felt tears fall from your eyes. Raoul stared at you in disbelief. He screamed that you were faking it, that you had no inkling as to what you were feeling.

Feeling. Feeling. Feeling.

You are nothing.

You continued to stare straight ahead as he screamed in your ear, chastising you for things you did not understand. Your hands were trembling, your heart beating rapidly until you heard a loud bang on the window.

Raoul stopped, and straightened up, narrowing his eyes once more at you before exiting the room. You let out a breath, your body sinking in the chair you were sitting on. It was over, or so you would hope.

— — Hyunjin watched as the director banged on the glass of lab five, the vibration causing the glass to rattle. He glared at Raoul as he watched the man release you and walk to the door.

In his four years of working here, he’s never experienced a technician as brutal as Raoul, and it was unfortunate he was assigned to you.

You. The anomaly.

You were different than your peers. Typically your kind does not experience emotions, do not even know what they are. However, you showed promise as a little girl, being subjected to testing from a young age.

His father remembers you and was in awe, watching as you were taken from your mother at the ripe age of five and brought to the room with the other children. You hesitated and held on tighter to your mother’s hand, fear etched in your eyes at the strange people coming to take you away.

His father went on to say it took you a while to adjust, your days spent separated from the other children, as you didn’t want to interact with them. Of course overtime, you forgot your mother, and fell right into the routine of living here in the lab.

You excelled on your testing, the technicians surprised at how your grasped emotional concepts the others have not. You were the only one in the hundreds of Gevorians that lived here that had an inkling of similarity to human kind.

Over the last six months, that uniqueness showed as you had interesting results after taking the Rorschach test over and over. It seemed you could learn to encompass the emotional capacity the others lacked.

Hyunjin took notice and became interested in your progress, wanting to know more about you. He looked through your files, all the way from childhood to adolescence, studied your results and the potential you had to make it in the human world, which is ultimately the labs goal.

He took to watching your sessions, notebook in hand to take notes. Imagine his horror when he saw Raoul abusing you, berating you for not being able to feel. Hyunjin’s heart broke for you in your predicament as he’s sure you were confused, not being able to understand the emotions that were going through you during the sessions.

Eventually, he had had enough as he saw you crying one day as Raoul spat in your face and called you nothing once more. He marched to the director’s office then and there and demanded Raoul be taken off the case and that he be assigned to you instead.

At first the director was hesitant, not sure if he would be able to handle you, but after many reassurances, he was granted the request.

Hyunjin went so far as to ask to have your sessions in different places throughout the building, to see if it’ll help in your journey. He was very persuasive, promising positive outcomes, which was risky, but a risk he was willing to take. He remembered silently cheering when the director granted him that power.

Now, here he was with several other technicians and the director himself, all staring down at Raoul.

“As of today Raoul, you are no longer y/n’s technician. Hyunjin will take over their sessions,” the director said in a commanding tone, his hands placed behind his back challenging any defiance.

“What the fuck! I’m making progress! Can’t you see that!” Raoul screamed.

Hyunjin shook his head in disdain, “How? By abusing y/n? Berating them? How is that going to help you son of a bitch?”

“Hyunjin!” The director said, shock in his eyes. He turned to look back at Raoul, “you are not their technician any longer. That’s final.”

The director turned around and marched out, the other technicians filing behind him. Raoul turned toward Hyunjin furious.

“You think you can handle y/n? Good luck, you won’t make a dent. Don’t come crying to me when the director fires you because you failed in your task.”

Hyunjin wiped the spit from his face and watched Raoul storm away.

He was definitely up for the task, wanting to make sure you could have a fulfilling life. One that was better than the one you lived within these walls.

He turned to stare at you through the two way mirror, watching how you stared straight ahead, waiting for someone to get you. However, he looked closer, and noticed your face was wet, as tears streamed down your face.

You didn’t wipe them, but let them fall down your cheeks, onto your clothes as you most likely had no clue what you were feeling.

He watched as an orderly came to retrieve you, watching as you walked past him, not even giving him a second glance.

He would be successful if it’s the last thing he does. He can’t let a promising, talented person like you rot here within the lab. He will mold you, teach you, and take you under his wing.

And once Hyunjin sets a goal, he follows it through.

He can’t wait for your first session together.

He can’t wait to meet you.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @frehyun @seungminsbest @nightmarenyxx @linocvp1d @ddroh @redlightsallnight @eastjonowhere @stayjinnie

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ddejavvu · 10 hours ago

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Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox

A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule.

It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.

Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are.

Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.

Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.

Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.

“What, Hangman?”

“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”

He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.

“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”

The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”

You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.

“Truce.”

He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”

“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”

“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”

The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.

“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”

“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”

“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”

“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”

“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”

“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”

“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”

“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”

“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.

“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”

“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”

“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.

There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.

“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.

“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”

He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”

“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”

Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.

“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”

“No.”

“Alright.”

You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.

Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”

You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.

You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”

“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”

“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.

You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment.

“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”

“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.

“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”

You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.

Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.

Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”

You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”

“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”

He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.

“Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.

“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”

“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.

“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”

His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.

There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.

Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.

You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.

“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”

“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”

“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”

“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”

You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.

“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”

“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”

Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”

You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.

You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be.

You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.

It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.

You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you.

“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.

“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”

“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”

“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”

“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.

Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.

“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.

“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”

“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”

Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.

“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”

You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.

You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.

The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.

“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.

“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”

“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.

“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.

“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.

“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.

His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.

Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out.

Jake has never been gentle before.

“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.

“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to.

Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.

Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win.

This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.

“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.

“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”

“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”

“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.

Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.

He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged.

“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”

Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel.

You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own.

“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”

“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”

“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”

“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”

“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”

“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”

You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven.

Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.

“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”

He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.

He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.

“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.

You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.

“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”

Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”

Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.

“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”

“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”

“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”

“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale, and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”

You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.

You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed.

You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it.

Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.

You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.

You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.

“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.

“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”

“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”

“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.

Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.

“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”

“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”

“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”

“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.

You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.

Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.

“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.

“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”

“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”

“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”

“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”

“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”

“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”

“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”

“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”

You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”

“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”

“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.

“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”

“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”

“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”

“He’s not in love with me-!”

“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.

You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”

“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”

“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation.

You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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harringtonstilinski · 3 days ago

Text

The Alchemy Pt2 - Eddie Munson (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,793 Warnings: fluff, micro angst Requested: no | yes; i'm saying yes on this 'cause y'all wanted a pt2, lol Smut: no | yes; oral (m+f receiving), protected piv (m+f), A/N: Hi, friends! Here's Pt2! For the schmutty scene, I grabbed some descriptive words/scenes (can't think of the word i'm looking for, lol) that I've read in books. Let me know what you thought! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

eddie munson masterlist

eddie munson playlist

FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER

The past five and a half months that you and Eddie have been together has been nothing short of amazing. He treats you better than Steve ever did, takes you out on dates more than Steve did, and even does things that you want to do or talk to you about things you seem interested in.

Of course, you do all that right back for Eddie, as well. You sit and listen to him read off the newest campaign he’d written for Hellfire, you listen intently to him ramble on about new things he’s interested in, and you even try new things that he seems interested in.

You look at Eddie like he’s the most gorgeous person on the planet, and he looks at you the same exact way. The love you two have for each other grows by the second. You can’t even think about the classwork in front of you because that metal loving boy of yours infiltrates your mind.

“Hey,” you heard someone whisper. Looking around, your eyes caught Steve’s next to you. “Pay attention or else you’re gonna get called on.”

“Mr. Harrington,” Mrs. O’Donnell said. “Care to share what you’re speaking about with the rest of class?”

Steve looked at Mrs. O’Donnell, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. As he stammered, you rolled your eyes, and raised your hand and said, “Mrs. O’Donnell, he was just reminding me about picking my brother up after school.”

“NIce to see you two getting along. Now, please, a little less talking, a little more paying attention.”

You and Steve said yes ma’am at the same time before going back to your respective notes. When you began doodling again, you looked up at seeing a face in the window of the door, an instant smile blooming on your lips. Looking at the clock, you sighed. “Five more minutes,” you mouthed, not wanting to get in trouble my Mrs. O’Donnell.

The person that ended up getting into trouble was, in fact, Eddie.

“Eddie Munson,” she sighed. When she opened the door, Eddie stepped in a couple of steps. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, you know,” Eddie said, leaning his shoulder against the wall near him. “Just walking around during my free period. Thought I’d come by and see my lady.” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, giving you a smirk.

Covering your face with one of your hands, you looked down at your desk, whispering, “Oh, my god,” before hearing everyone in the room chuckle at your embarrassment.

Yes, Eddie embarrassed you a lot, and you let him know every afternoon when you showed up at his house. Did you embarrass Eddie? Hell no, only because nothing really embarrasses Eddie, but you’ve thought about it once or twice.

Before you could actually fall from your desk and die right on the spot, the bell rang and you sighed a breath of relief, but as you gathered your stuff, you heard Steve whisper your name. “Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Can we talk?” he asked, looking a little… dejected? What could he be feeling sad about?

“Uhh, sure,” you said. “Just let me put my stuff in Eddie’s van and then I’ll meet you at your car?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d just meet me there first.”

“Oh.” You furrowed your brows just the slightest. “Yeah. Let me, uhm… let me tell Eddie what’s going on.”

Steve nodded before standing from his desk, notebook and pencil in hand, to walk out of the room. You followed after a moment and a head shake later, finding Eddie waiting for you at your locker.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled.

Chuckling, you twisted the lock on your locker to the correct numbers as you responded, “Okay. Keep that nickname for your guitar,” you said, placing your school belongings into their homes. Closing the door, you looked at Eddie with all the love and affection you could muster. “I think I’ll stick with the nickname you unknowingly gave me.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

Wrapping your arms around Eddie’s neck, you didn’t care that you had a small audience, and by audience; almost the whole of Hellfire. “Love. Baby. Babe. My love.” Placing your lips on his, you sighed, waiting to do this all day.

Sure, the two of you kissed, but it wasn’t sweet like the one you were currently sharing. The ones you’d shared during the day were more chaste; short and sweet. Not sweet; long and unmoving.

At the sounds of all the kissy sounds and ooh’s and aah’s coming from the rest of the group, you split apart and turned your heads to face your friends, Eddie’s voice cutting through to say, “Okay, you’re all dead in the next campaign.”

When the group went quiet, you could see the horror in their eyes; they’d spent weeks building up their characters' healths and stats. They didn’t want to die within a couple of rolls of the dice.

Looking up at Eddie, you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll meet you at the van in a few minutes.”

“Why, what’s up?” Eddie asked, placing one of his hands on your cheek. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just…” You paused for a moment, trying to put together the right words in the right order. “Uhm, Steve’s asked me to meet him at his car so we can talk. I’m not sure what he wants to talk about, though.”

Dropping his hand to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, all Eddie could do was look into your eyes. “You’re not…-”

“Oh, god, no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not taking him back. You have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

Softly smiling and bringing his hand to tuck a strand piece of hair behind your ear, Eddie continued to look at you. “Okay, sweetheart. And for the record; I love you, too.”

Smiling at your amazing boyfriend, you rose up to your tiptoes, placing a kiss to his lips. “You better or else I’m gonna expose your newest campaign to Hellfire and have them kick your sorry little ass.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Eddie feigned hurt. “You wouldn’t.”

As you place your heels back on the ground, your smile never faltering, you respond, “Yes, I would. Now, march your hot ass to your van, blast your favorite tape at the moment, and wait patiently for me, okay?”

“Okay, princess,” Eddie replied, cupping your cheek. He placed a sweet kiss to your lips before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, all but dragging you out of the school and to the parking lot.

When you saw Steve looking down as he was leaning against his car, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him. I wonder what’s gotten him so down, you thought to yourself. Looking back up at Eddie, you kissed him before telling him you’d meet him at his van before walking over to Steve.

“Steve?”

The King himself looked up at you before quickly wiping at his eyes. Ever the comforting person that you are, you set your stuff down on the hood of his car and quickly made your way over to him, the both of you wrapping your arms around each other.

You let him silently cry on your shoulder for a few minutes before quietly asking, “What happened?”

Picking his head up, Steve whispered, “Nancy broke up with me. Turns out, she was cheating on me with Jonathan the last six weeks.”

“Oh, shit, Steve. I’m so sorry.” As his eyes met yours, you could see the question swirling within them. “Steve-”

“No, I know your answer, and I don’t expect you to dump Eddie to come back to me. I mean, I do want you to come back to me, but… as a friend, not a girlfriend. I miss you… a-as a friend.”

“Steve, it’s okay if you miss me like that, too. It’s just… I love Eddie, and honestly, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with him. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with you, too, but… there’s certain things that Eddie does that’s… different from you.”

“How’s he treating you?”

“I think you know that answer,” you chuckled.

The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips before he responded, “Like a princess.”

“Exactly.”

It was quiet between the two of you for about a minute before Steve said, “The way I should’ve treated you.”

“Steve-”

“No, let me get this out,” he said. “You’re an amazing girl, and I should’ve treated you a lot better than what I did right there at the end.”

“Your jealousy is what ended our relationship, Steve. You got super fucking jealous that I was trying to make time to spend with Eddie. I mean, you were hanging out with all your basketball friends, as well as Tommy H. and Carol. You never let me have free time to spend with my friends.”

Nodding along to your words, he agreed. “Yeah. I was a pretty big asshole, wasn’t I?” He chuckled at the end of his statement.

“You were. But I know that you can get back to the Steve that I fell in love with.”

Smirking at you, Steve said, “Thanks. For being there for me.”

“Steve, I’m still your friend, and I’ll always be here for you.” Giving him a hug, you welcomed the embrace you gave to him, feeling his arms going around your middle. Pulling away, you said, “I have to go. If you need anything, just call my line. You know my number.”

“Thanks,” Steve said again before getting into his car, watching you walk to Eddie’s van.

Once you got close enough, Eddie slid out from his seat to catch you as you jumped into his arms. He spun you around a couple of times before stopping to just hold you for a moment. Looking out over at Steve, he gave a curt nod, your ex-boyfriend giving one back before he drove away.

Setting you back down on your feet, Eddie’s hands rested on your waist as he looked you into your perfectly colored eyes. “How was your talk?”

“It was… good,” you said, a small smile creeping up on your face. “He just needed someone to be there for him.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Eddie asked, “What happened?”

“Uhm,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Nancy’s been cheating on him with Jonathan for the last two months. He also wanted us to be friends again, and came to the realization that he didn’t treat me the way you do. I told him I’d always be there for him ‘cause, ya’know… that’s just how I am.”

“And that’s what I love about you.”

You hummed, looking up at your loving boyfriend. “I’m starving. Wanna go to Benny’s? I got cash!”

“Where’d you get it?” Eddie asked, walking you around to the passenger seat, which Eddie has dubbed as your seat.

“Told my mom that I’d be home late, so she gave me cash.”

“What about your brother?”

Shrugging, you replied, “He has A/V Club today, so he’ll probably go to Mike’s house afterward and play some D&D.”

“Wait. He plays?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding. “He loves it. He and his friends play in the basement of the Wheeler’s house. I think one of their campaigns lasted ten hours!”

“Holy shit. Sounds like one hell of a campaign,” Eddie smiled. “I would love to play with him and his friends one day.”

“You might!” you happily exclaimed. “I’ve been telling them about Hellfire, and of course the end of the year party last year was at our house, and he was telling me when you guys left that night that he wanted to be a part of Hellfire when he got into High School.”

“And he will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Chuckling, you replied, “Eddie, you’re gonna graduate by then.”

He shrugged. “You never know. Especially with Mrs. O’Donnell.” The roll of his eyes and snarl of his lip make your chuckle turn into a full blown laugh. Eddie smiled, himself, at seeing the happiness on your face. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, he said, “How about this; how about we go to the video store, pick out your favorite movie - yes, it can be a Disney movie - and then we’ll go home and watch it while snuggling up on the couch. What do you say?”

“Hmmm, I say that’s perfect,” you said, softly before placing your lips sweetly upon his.

~~~

What ended up with you and Eddie watching a sweet innocent movie turned into a full blown make-out session right there on the couch. You both were thanking your lucky stars that Wayne was already at work.

You were straddling his lap, sitting up as straight as you could with Eddie’s hands splayed out on your back, your tongues and lips moving together in sync. His lips moved from your own to your cheek down to your jaw and then finally landed on your neck, where he worked your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. “I love it when you do that.”

Unlatched his lips from your neck, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love that I get to do this to you.”

Smiling, you brought your hands back to his cheeks, gently cupping them before replying, “I love that you love that you get to do that to me,” before kissing his lips once more.

Feeling Eddie’s slip under your shirt and up to your bra had you stilling for a moment, pulling back a little to look into Eddie’s eyes. The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, but he’d played with your nipples, and that’s as far as you would let him go.

You wanted to have sex with Eddie, and he you, but neither of you voiced your thoughts on the subject. You thought that your make-out sessions and it would just happen one day while the two of you were alone. Eddie wanted to have a conversation with you about it first because he didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you.

Swallowing your nerves, you breathed a quiet, shuddering breath. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“Are we about to, uhm…”

Playing the hair by your ear before gently cupping your jaw, Eddie whispered, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. Okay? There’s no pressure.”

“No, no, I-I… I want to.” Trailing your fingertips over his bottom lip, you watched as you did, thinking about your next words before saying them, something your grandma had taught you in your youth. “I’ve been wanting to, but I was just gonna let nature take its course with it. Like, I wasn’t gonna stop you or anything.”

Lightly chuckling, Eddie replied, “Well, I was wanting to talk to you about it first, but since you’re just wanting nature to take its course with us having sex, I’m not opposed to it,” before kissing you, passionately.

Feeling Eddie standing from the couch, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands went to your ass to keep you from falling as your lips went to town on his neck.

Next thing you knew, you heard a door shut before your back met the mattress. You looked up at Eddie, seeing nothing but love and warmth and lust and passion and all the other words that describe the word “love”.

Softly smiling, you brought your hands up to cheeks, softly cupping them as your thumbs gently rubbed across his skin. After a few seconds, you breathed, “Have I told you recently that I love you?”

Eddie quietly chuckled, looking down at a random spot on your shirt. He loved hearing those words fall from your lips. “Everyday for three months, my love.” Lowering himself to his forearms to not crush you, he added, “I hope I get to hear it everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Rest assured, Edward Wayne, you will.” Running your fingers through his curly locks, you kept the smile that he permanently put on your lips. “Now, make love to me, Eddie. I want to feel all of you.”

Before you could even lift your head to press your lips to his, Eddie leaned his down and gently placed his lips on yours. Your lips moved in a sweet, slow, and loving sync while shedding each other’s shirts and your bra, but before either of you could shed from the waist down, Eddie leaned back on his legs and reached up to remove the guitar pick necklace he wore.

When he grabbed your hands to sit you up, you tried to protest, but Eddie being Eddie, he didn’t want to hear whatever it was you were about to say. “No. I want you to wear this. It was my first pick that I ever received.”

“Eddie, I-”

“Baby, you mean the world to me, and I would love nothing more than to see your beautiful naked ass wearing nothing but this,” he continued, holding the chain by the ends in between the two of you. “I love you. You mean everything to me.”

With tears in your eyes, you moved your hair from your neck to over your shoulder just before Eddie leaned forward to place the necklace around your neck, fastening it in place.

“There,” he whispered. “It looks better on you anyway.”

You couldn’t help the emotion that was washing over you. “Kiss me, you fool.”

Laughing, Eddie placed his lips on yours once again, laying you back down. Neither of you knew how much time had passed before he placed his forehead on yours, lightly panting from the makeout sessions you two just had.

“Eds?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Are we gonna have sex now?”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Eddie looked at you while his hand trailed down�� your sternum and belly to the button on your jeans. “Yes, baby. We’re going to have sex now.”

Popping the button of your jeans, Eddie leaned back up to unzip them before pulling material, as well as your underwear, down your legs, dropping them to the floor beside him. You reached forward, popping the button on his jeans as well before sliding his zipper down.

Getting off the bed, Eddie removed his jeans and boxers, his hard cock standing at attention. Smirking while reaching into his nightstand for a condom, he asked, “Like what you see, love?”

“Oh, I very much like what I see,” you said, sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him. Without another word, you grabbed his cock while looking into his eyes before dragging your tongue on the underside of his length, feeling the prominent vein pulse.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed. “You gonna take my cock in your mouth?”

Not giving an answer, you took him into your mouth, closing your eyes and letting out a soft moan before bobbing your head. Sure, you’d given blowjobs before but none that you enjoyed. Even though this is your first time giving Eddie one, you were actually enjoying it… and so was Eddie.

You’ve told him stories about your hair being grabbed, or the guy facefucking you when you asked him not to do it. So, as Eddie watches you do your thing, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Grabbing at his own hair, he leaned his head, letting out a soft, guttural “Ffffuuuuuuuucccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk,” and before he could bust his load down your throat, he reached down and tapped your cheek. “Stand up, my love.”

Standing, you looked confused, inwardly telling yourself that you already fucked up.

At seeing the look on your face, Eddie cupped your cheeks, a soft smile on his face. “If I didn’t stop you, I would’ve come down your throat. I want to be inside your pussy when I do that.”

“Well, I guess you better get to it then,” you said, smiling cheekily.

“Oh, I will. But, first, I gotta taste you.”

Before you knew it, while giggling, your back met the mattress again, your legs spreading before a gasp left your lips at the feeling of Eddie’s tongue on your aching cunt. “Fuck, Eddie. Holy shit.” Your brain was going a million miles an hour as Eddie lapped and sucked and kissed your core. “Oh,my–” Your words were cut off as your release hit you out of nowhere.

As Eddie kissed his way back up your stomach to your lips, all he could do was smile, and as he kissed you, you could feel it on your lips, as well as taste yourself on your tongue. “How was that?” he asked, that smile ever present on his face.

“Fucking amazing,” you breathed. “Now, stick that cock inside me and make me come again.”

Without missing a beat, Eddie looked at the foil package in his hands, tearing it open before rolling the condom down his length. Looking down at his length, Eddie grabbed it, guiding it to your entrance, pressing the tip of his cock gently into you as he looked into your eyes. Once you gave him a nod of approval, he guided his cock inside of you, both of you groaning at the feeling of each other.

“Damn, baby,” Eddie gritted out, trying to keep his breathing in check. “You feel fucking amazing.”

“Oh, my– fuck!” You couldn’t concentrate on anything let alone form words as his cock pounded into you, your back arching the slightest bit. “That’s it, Eddie-” Moan. “Just like that. Don’t stop, baby.”

Eddie could feel sweat start to form on his brow, his own grunts and moans mixing with yours. “Fuck, baby, I don’t think-” Moan. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He could feel his balls start to tighten, his impending orgasm creeping up on him. “Yeah, I won’t last much longer.”

“Keep going,” you breathed. “I’m almost there, I’m almost–” Your own orgasm cut off your words, your walls tightening on Eddie’s cock as he rocked his hips one, two, three more times before his own orgasm hit.

While the two of you were coming down from your highs, the only things you heard and felt were both of your heavy breathing and Eddie’s lip on your shoulder before feeling his forehead rest on yours.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

As you opened your eyes, a soft smile danced on your lips, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks ever so gently before replying with your own whispered words, “I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! i'm so so sorry this took forever to get out. writer' block hit me like a brick! plus, i've been reading books like crazy, and i've gone in and out of depression episode. thanks for sticking around! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i'm trying to add the character masterlists and playlists onto all my one-shots from here on out! let me know if it makes it easier for y'all to back and choose!

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on November 21, 2024

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson spice

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days ago

Text

Love That Burns ~ Ending 1 ~ 36

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,245ish

Summary: Logan has a plan to surprise you. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: character returns from the dead

Notes: Check out the Everyday Moments Masterlist for more moments of our favorite couple! Also, the chapter numbers will continue from the main storyline.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

To say Logan was nervous was an understatement. First off, he hated flying. Second of all, he had never planned a trip like this before, let alone by himself. You had been pestering him for years about going on a vacation, a true vacation, but he always found an excuse to brush it off. Now that your anniversary was nearing, Logan wanted to do something special for the two of you. Logan was going to surprise you with a ten day trip to Hawaii. He had rented a small house with a private beach for the week, just the two of you. He could only hope that you’d like it.

It was a Saturday, so Logan wasn’t working. You had slipped out to run some errands by yourself , allowing Logan to prepare how he was going to tell you about the trip. He had bought a new swimsuit for you, something he hoped you would like in his favorite color to see you in. He placed it in a bag and set it on the counter.

Anxious about the present, Logan waited for you outside, keeping himself busy with chopping wood and working on his bike. When his ears picked up the sound of the truck, Logan quickly set the tools down and wiped his hands clean on his jeans before standing to meet you.

You smiled as you caught sight of Logan waiting for you outside. You parked the truck and Logan was there in no time, opening your door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, leaning forward and meeting your lips for a brief kiss.

“Hey, honey,” you replied. “You been waiting for me?”

“Maybe.” He smirked. “What can I grab?”

“Everything’s in the back seat.”

“I’ll grab everything. You head inside.”

“Are you sure? I can–”

“Go. I can handle a few grocery bags.”

You kissed his cheek before heading inside. It didn’t take you long to notice the gift bag sitting on the counter. “Uh, Logan? What’s with the bag?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, coming in with all the grocery bags.

“So you won’t mind me taking a look inside then?”

He shrugged. “Nope.”

With curious eyes, you peeked into the bag and pulled out the new swimsuit. You held it up, studying it, before peeking back into the bag. There was nothing else in it.

“Thanks, honey,” you said, trying to mask the utter confusion you were feeling. “I needed a new swimsuit?”

“Fuck, I didn’t think this all the way through,” he muttered.

“What is going on, Logan?”

He sighed, running a frustrated hand up his face and through his hair. “I’m taking you to Hawaii.”

The swimsuit dropped to the ground. “What?”

“Tomorrow. You and me. Hawaii.”

“You–You’re serious?”

“Very.”

You squealed and jumped up into Logan’s arms. He caught you with a laugh as your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs wrapped around his torso.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Logan pressed a kiss to your neck. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You pulled your head away enough to look at him. “Are you sure you can handle it? I know how you feel about flying and not to mention the water. Do you–”

Logan shut you up with a kiss. “Your reaction sealed the deal, baby. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m the one who planned it, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but–”

“Nope. We’re going.”

You squealed again, going back to hugging him tightly. “I love you so much!”

He chuckled in your grip. “I love you more.”

~~~

Logan knew he had made the right choice as he watched you bounce around the airport. He couldn’t help but watch you with a loving smile. You were so excited that it was becoming contagious. It was helping but his anxieties at ease, especially since he had a few more surprises up his sleeves once you two reached Hawaii.

“Oh, Logan! Let’s–”

He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. “No more stops, sweetheart. We haven’t even gone through security yet. We can explore more once we’re past that.”

“Oh. Right. Let’s go!”

Logan laughed as you tried to tug him along. He willingly followed you to the security line. To distract himself from the oncoming pat down he would be forced to have, he wrapped you up in his arms and held your back against his chest. He also needed to make sure you didn’t happily wander off before you hit security. You leaned back into him, completely content with him holding you still as you waited in line.

“Are you guys newly weds?” A kind old lady asked as she stood behind you in line, watching you and Logan.

“No,” you responded with a smile. “We’ve been married for a few years now and have been together for even longer.”

“Well, it’s nice to see two young people such as yourselves so happily in love still.”

You and Logan had to bite back a laugh. If only this woman knew that Logan was 183 and you were 85. You were probably older than the woman herself.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Logan responded. “I got lucky.” He kissed your temple as you melted into him.

The lady smiled and looked at you. “You’ve got yourself a keeper there, dearie.”

You patted Logan’s arm that was around you. “Yes, I do,” you replied before meeting his lips for a kiss.

When you reached the security checkpoint, you gave Logan another kiss.

“I’ll be right in front of you,” you told him, knowing that he hated situations like this.

“Okay,” he responded, sneaking another brief kiss before he let you go.

He watched as you walked through the checkpoint with ease before turning around to wait for him. You shot him a smile as he stepped toward the TSA agent.

“I’ll take the pat down,” Logan stated.

The agent turned to his colleagues, “opt out.”

Suddenly, the coins and all other metal objects around begin to shake and float up. You and Logan are seemingly the only ones who seem to notice. You gasp as you realize who is standing behind Logan. Seeing your concern, Logan draws out his claws and spins around but was stopped before he could do any harm.

“What do you want?!” Logan asked as Magneto lifted his head.

Without even thinking, you rushed back through the scanner and place yourself between Logan and Magneto, flames ready in your hands.

“There are dark forces, Wolverine, Ember,” Magneto responded, still holding a grip on Logan. “Human forces, building a weapon that could bring about the end of our kind. What I want… I want your help.”

“Why would we trust you?” You asked.

“You wouldn’t.”

Slowly, Magneto released Logan, causing Logan to pull you back behind him. It’s then you noticed that everyone in the airport had stopped moving. Logan tensed as he held onto you and stepped through the scanner. Your brows furrowed as you noticed the look on his face.

“What is it?” you whispered.

“A wheelchair,” he breathed out.

You followed his line of sight to see Charles weaving through the crowd of frozen people. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Charles stopped his wheelchair a few feet away from you and Logan, with Magneto remaining behind you.

“Hello, Y/N, Logan,” Charles greeted.

“How is this possible?” Logan asked, stunned.

“As I told you a long time ago, you’re not the only one with gifts.”

~~~

The X-Men jet was an unwanted familiarity as you and Logan stepped into it. Charles had promised to explain everything as soon as you reached the mansion. Magento and Charles let the two of you have your space in the back of the jet as you flew to your old home.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to Logan.

He was completely confused as to why you were apologizing. “What are you apologizin’ for?”

“You worked so hard to plan a vacation and now we don’t even get to experience it.”

Logan pulled you into his lap and used his hand to keep you looking at him. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing. Should have taken you on a vacation long ago.”

You sighed, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Should have known that we’d get pulled back into this eventually.”

“We can say no.”

“You know we can’t… not when Charles is back.”

Logan sighed, kissing your head. “No matter what happens, we stick together.”

“Always.”

~~~

Ororo was hugging you before you could fully step off of the jet. You quickly hugged back, tears pricking at your eyes. You had missed her so much.

“You never called,” she rasped, growing emotional.

“I’m so sorry,” you replied. “Forgive me?”

“Of course.”

When the two of you finally pulled away, Logan was swept into a hug from Ororo and Marie was on you. The hugs continued through Colossus, Bobby, and Kitty, each excited to see you and Logan.

“Hold up!” Marie exclaimed, grabbing your left hand and holding it up. “Did you two get married?!”

“Yes,” you responded.

“And none of us were invited?”

The room quieted down immediately, with everyone’s eyes on you and Logan. Sensing your emotions being to grow, Logan placed a hand around you and pulled you back into him for comfort.

“Technically, it’s not legal,” Logan responded. “But it’s real to us.”

“I’m very happy for you both,” Charles said with a smile, trying to ease the tension.

You couldn’t stop looking between Ororo and Marie, both clearly heartbroken about the lack of an invitation or an update. It had been twelve years since you had last seen or talked to any of them. You basically cut off communication as soon as you left.

“I think we need to all rest and regroup in the morning,” Charles suggested.

Magneto scoffed. “We’re wasting time,” he argued.

“Not enough to make a difference.” Charles rolled in front of you and gently took your hand. “We can talk later. Your room is cleaned and ready for you and Logan.”

“Thanks,” Logan replied, sensing that you were about to break down. “I’ll come back for our bags.”

Logan was practically carrying you as the two of you left the hangar, everyone watching. You couldn’t fully take in the idea of being back here, feeling too guilty for leaving your friends in the dust. You froze once you were inside of your room. It didn’t feel like home the way it once did and it hurt with the familiarity of it.

“Sweetheart,” Logan whispered, trying to get your attention elsewhere.

“Can you go grab the bags?” You murmured.

“Those can wait. You need–”

“Please, Logan… I just need a few minutes.”

Logan sighed. He knew that it wasn’t worth arguing with you in this state. “Okay. I’ll be quick.”

You nodded, still focused on the room. He kissed the back of your head before slipping out of the room. The last few hours seemed like a fever dream. Charles was alive. He and Magneto needed you and Logan to help with an end-of-the-world scenario. You were back at the mansion, standing in the room you once considered home. Weren’t you just going to Hawaii with Logan? Was this some nightmare that you’d wake up from? Did you really want to be here? Did you really want to help?

~~~

Logan was trying to be as quick as possible, knowing that you needed him close.

“Can we talk?” Marie stepped into Logan’s path as he was heading back to you with the bags.

“Not now,” he muttered.

“Then when? You and Y/N left and never reached out. None of us knew where you were or how to get a hold of you.”

“We needed the time to ourselves."

Marie scoffed. “Twelve years?”

“I ain’t going to apologize, kid, if that's what you're looking for. I—“

The familiar scent of your smoke hit Logan's nostrils. He was taking multiple stairs at a time before Marie could stop him. He burst through the bedroom door to see you curled up on the floor, panicking with smoke coming off your body.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he pulled you into his arms, not caring that you were burning through his clothes.

“Can’t—cool—down.” Every one of your words was a strangled breath.

“It’s okay, princess. We’ll cool you down.”

Logan lifted you up and carried you into the shower. He turned it on cold water, letting it run over the two of you.

“I’m sorry," you cried. “I’m sorry.”

Logan shushed you. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

He held you until you returned to your normal body temperature. He quickly stripped you both of your wet clothes before drying you off, slipping one of his shirts over you, and tucking you into bed. He pulled some underwear on himself before crawling in bed behind you and tugging you to his chest.

“This is a lot,” you rasped.

“We can leave,” Logan mumbled. “We don't have to help.”

“Yes, we do… They are our family… and you heard Magneto. This could affect all mutants.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, burying his head into your neck. A few moments of silence fell between the two of you.

“I hope you know that this doesn't get you out of the Hawaii trip by any means. You’ll own me.”

He chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’m already thinking of how to make it up to you.”

next chapter >

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ruh--roh-raggy · 2 days ago

Text

Roller Rink (Boss! William Afton x Fem! Reader) - FLUFF

Hello hello! I wanted to write something short and sweet to get back into the swing of things, so have a skating date with Will! Let me know what you think!

🪩song recommendation🪩

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader in her mid 20's, Will is in his 40's), not edited, the fluffiest of fluff, Reader and Will skate together at a work party

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ A03 Link!

💜 Thank you for reading! If you like my work consider supporting me by liking/reblogging/leaving a comment below! 💜

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

“Chrissy! Hey, hop in!” You call to the bubbly blonde who was already bouncing down the driveway, her skates slung over her shoulder. She piles into your Mercedes Wagon, vaulting over the middle row into the third row of seats that faced towards the back of the windshield.

“I can't believe your bosses rented out the entire Roll-A-Rama! They're so cool for letting you bring us!” One of them exclaims in the packed cab.

“Mr. Afton and Mr. Emily love to throw a good party.” You respond with a laugh. You pulled your sunglasses off the top of your head, shaking out your hair as it blew back in the breeze from the open window. You were on your way to Freddy’s annual summertime bash, your car filled with the excited screams of your friends.

“Are we going to get to see you flirting with your man?” Your copilot teases, nudging your shoulder.

You can't help but scoff and roll your eyes in response, “my man?”

“Girl, come on! You have been in love with this man, forever! How have you not made a move yet?” Someone else chimes in from the back seat.

“Because he's my boss?” You reply through a dumbfounded laugh.

“That just makes him even hotter.” You hear someone argue in response, a collective agreement from the rest of the car.

“You guys are ridiculous.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Just try not to embarrass me too badly.”

“No promises, if he's hot I'm gonna have to say something.”

You pull into the lot, recognizing a lot of your coworkers with their friends and family milling around in the parking lot, which appeared to be getting set up for a BBQ. “Everyone that’s drinking follow me to get wristbands!”

“Well, the party certainly has arrived.” Mr. Emily greets you all with a bright smile. “Ladies, how are we doing today?” He continues chatting casually as he checks all of your ID’s. He chuckles as he hands back the final license he had to check, “Hurricane has two r’s in it sweetheart.” She cringes as he catches her fake. “Are you driving home?” He asks quietly.

“No, sir.” She responds nervously. He wraps the purple wristband around her wrist.

“If anyone asks, you stole it.” She nods, the look of pure shock on her face making you chuckle. “Now, which one of you lovely ladies is driving tonight.” You raise your hand. “Alright, you know the drill. Go give your keys to Will, he's going to hold them to make sure you're good to drive before you leave.” There was a hurried, excited murmur through your group, a couple elbows being exchanged at drawing too much attention.

It wasn't hard to find him, the hulking mass of man lurking by the skate rental counter was a relatively difficult sight to miss. He straightens up when he sees you approaching, you hear one of your friends let out an impressed ‘wow’ as he rises to his full height. “Do us all a favor.” She whispers to you. “Climb that man like a damn tree.”

They all hung back while you went to go talk to him. You willingly surrendered your keys to him before he even had the chance to ask. “Planning on getting into a little bit of trouble tonight, are we?” He asks with a smirk.

“Me? Never.” You pout playfully at him. “I'm hurt that you would even think that, Mr. Afton.” Your heart races as you watch his silvery eyes flicker over your form.

“You're right, a good girl like you would never cause any trouble.” Your cheeks grow warm as you try to come up with a flirty response.

“The only trouble I can see myself getting into tonight is with you.” He raises an eyebrow at you, an almost impressed expression passing over his features.

“Is that right?” He chuckles, taking a couple steps closer to you. “Careful, little lady, you're going to end up with a lot of unwanted attention from me tonight.” He chuckles.

“Who says it's unwanted?” You shoot back, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and letting your eyes wander over his strong, broad shoulders. “I'll see you later, Mr. Afton.”

“Oh, yes you will, rabbit.” He winks at you before you hurry back to your friends.

“You're seriously blind if you can't see how into you he is.” You're immediately pulled into the squealing mass of girls all fawning over how cute you would be with Will. You weren't going to lie, you were really hoping he was planning on following through on his promise to see you later.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

After grabbing some food your group headed back inside, laughing as you all laced up your skates. “Mr. Emily!” You call out to him as you see him strolling past with his wife.

“Hey honey, how are you? Everyone's having fun I hope?” He asks with a cheerful smile.

“Oh yeah, we're having a blast! I was just wondering if, um, if you've seen Mr. Afton?” Your cheeks grew warm as the question tumbled from your lips.

“Will? He's already skating.” He leans down to speak quietly. “Between you and me, I think he's looking for you.” He chuckles.

“Me?” You ask, earning a nod from Mr. Emily. “Why would he be looking for me?”

“I've heard you're quite the skater, young lady, and Will is looking for someone… well, someone who can keep up with him.” He chuckles. One of your friends elbows you slightly, arching her brow at you. You're practically pulled from the bench, getting dragged to the wall to look out over the rink floor. Sure enough, you found Will. He wore a pair of dark purple skates with bright yellow wheels, which easily stood out from his otherwise entirely black ensemble of jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt. He was skating in the middle of the rink, easily gliding around the center as he practiced a few simple warm up moves in time with the music that was playing.

“What are you waiting for? Go talk to him!” You're ushered out onto the floor, nervously cracking your knuckles as you rolled in his direction.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to join me.” He glides over to you, you thought your boss was a big man before, but seeing him wearing roller skates gave him a new, even more monstrous height.

“Mr. Emily was telling me you were looking for a skating partner…” You trail off with a coy smile.

“You think you're up for the task?” He rebuttals with a chuckle.

“With all due respect, Mr. Afton, I may be young but I'd like to think I'm pretty talented.” He offers you his hand with a gentle smile.

“Then why don't you prove it, rabbit.” Your hand slips into his. You both started off slow, just rolling next to each other at the start.

“I didn't think you'd be into something like this.” You remark casually.

“There's a lot of things you don't know about me, little lady.” He chuckles.

“I guess you're right, but there's a lot you don't know about me either.” Will’s hand comes to the small of your back as he carefully steps around you, avoiding your coworker that was sprawled out on the floor after slipping on his skates.

“I know a lot more than you think, rabbit.” You barely caught his response, the feeling of his hand burning against your skin.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenge.

“Well…” he pauses for a second to think. You had found yourself drifting closer to him the longer you skated. Your awkward gliding side by side now turning more into a synchronized strut as you allow yourself to bump into his side. His hand slides across your back, wrapping securely around your waist as he keeps you tucked safely into his side. “I know that you don't like crowds, you prefer colder weather because you always get so, adorably excited whenever you can start wearing sweaters again… and don't think I haven't noticed your little Fizzy-Faz obsession.” He finishes with a laugh.

“What flavor-” You're cut off as he suddenly stops down to bring his face closer to yours.

“Cherry, because it always stains your lips the prettiest shade of pink.” He shoots you a playful smirk, noticing your flustered expression. You perk up when the music changes, Will glances at you curiously.

“I love this song!” You exclaim giddily. One of your friends whips past you, spinning and dancing along to the beat.

“You want to go join your friends?” He asks, you could hear the twinge of disappointment in his voice.

“If it’s all the same to you Mr. Afton… I’d like to stay here with you.” A smile slowly stretches across his features.

“You can call me Will, sweetheart.” He responds with a chuckle. “And I’d love to have a pretty little thing like you on my arm all night.”

“Dance with me, then.” You insist with a coy smile.

“Don't have to tell me twice.” He smiles. He maneuvers himself behind you, his hands coming to rest on the curves of your waist as he allows you to take the lead. He follows you closely through some of your favorite moves, “guess you weren't all talk, were you, baby?” You smile, taking his hand in yours.

“What can I say? I found a pretty good partner.” He chuckles at your response. You squeal as he tightens his grip around your waist, pressing you into his side as he effortlessly lifts you from the ground, spinning with you in his arms. You skated with Will for hours, enjoying some intimate small talk as he wrapped you up in his arms, his scruffy cheek pressed to yours as he leaned down to whisper compliments in your ear, each one leaving you more flustered than the last. He taught you a few more complicated moves he had learned over his skating career, both of you lagging as you fell into him more often than you would care to admit. But, every time Will was there to catch you in a strong embrace. Every so often you would catch sight of your friends, all of them ecstatic that you had managed to snag some alone time with the man that seemed to occupy your every thought. Your cheeks would grow warm as they would blow kisses at the two of you, one even screaming “get it girl!” As you rolled past, Will chuckled at the passing comment.

“It almost seems like they were expecting this to happen.” He says, shooting you a knowing smirk. Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced up at him. It was the first time tonight you had really stopped to acknowledge how handsome he looked tonight. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled down at you, his steely gray eyes almost seemed to shimmer under the neon roller rink lights. His strong arms stayed wrapped around your waist, muscles tensing under the delicate touch of your fingers. The musky smell of his cologne mixed with the subtle scent of cigarettes and machine oil clouded your thoughts.

“Will, I…” you swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you try to push out the confession you had been hiding for so long.

“Alright, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!” You both stumble slightly as the lights suddenly flash on, Will catching himself on the wall, pulling you flush against his chest to keep you upright.

“You okay?” The concern in his tone made your chest tighten.

“Yeah, thanks to you.” He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style as he skates towards the edge of the rink.

“Would you…” he sucks in a deep breath. “Would you like to join me for a coffee or something?” You can't help but smile at his awkward invitation. “Call me selfish, but I'm just not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”

“I would love to. However, I'm the designated driver for whichever of my girls didn't get picked up by one of your horndog chefs.” You explain with a chuckle. He carefully sets you down on the neon star covered carpet, “unfortunately, it would have to be some other time.”

“I could always help you get everyone home.” He offers quietly.

“If you don't mind being in a car full of drunk party girls.” You giggle.

“Spending time with you is worth it.” He slings a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you head to take off your skates.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

“You are huge!” Chrissy drunkenly slurs as Will slides into the driver's seat of his car. You attempt to hide your embarrassed expression, dropping your face into your hands with a laugh, Will simply chuckles at the outburst.

“Where am I headed, kiddo?” Will asks, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. She slurs out her address, Will seemingly having caught enough of it to know where he was heading. Chrissy sits forward, bringing her face next to yours in an attempt to whisper something, her lack of volume control at the moment made her attempt less than successful.

“He's seriously your boss?” You nod in response. “He's fucking hot… no wonder you want to–” You quickly clamp your hand over her mouth.

“Chrissy, you're drunk.” You laugh trying to quickly snap her off the subject.

“You're drunk!” She responds when she finally manages to push your palm away from her face. “I'm just saying, if she doesn't let you bring her home, I'm available!”

“Chrissy!” You exclaim in horror. Will snorts out a laugh at her statement.

When you finally drop her off your mind was absolutely reeling, not knowing what Will would have to say to you after listening to your friends drunk ramblings. “She's safely inside, her sister looked terrified of me.” He jokes.

“Well, it's not every day you have an incredibly handsome wall of man dropping off your drunk sister, I guess.” You froze after you registered what you had said. “I am so sorry–”

“So, you think I'm handsome?” You were nervous to look at him at first, not sure how that question was supposed to be interpreted. Your shoulders soften as you meet Will’s gentle gaze. You nod apprehensively, still too nervous to reiterate that fact out loud. “Well, if it's any consolation, rabbit…” He slides closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you into his side. He gently takes your chin between his fingers, not allowing you to look away. “I think you're very, very pretty.” He growls seductively. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips come to rest against yours. Kissing Will was a lot different than how you had imagined it. He was surprisingly gentle with you, as if you were made of glass. His fingers gently kneaded against your plush waist, his other hand leaving your chin in order to cradle your cheek in his palm, his strong fingers lacing their way into your hair. You kissed him until your lungs burned, so caught up in him that you had neglected to breathe.

It takes you a moment to regain yourself. Your eyes hazy, pupils blown, Will’s chest filled with a sense of pride at the sight. “Will?”

“Yes, bunny?”

“Did you still want to grab that coffee?”

His smile widens in response, “of course, pretty girl. Anything if it means getting to spend more time with you.”

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Tag List: @vile-moss @yellowbunnydreams @spookyghostjelly @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki @dij-ology @maria-moll @astinkerofarat (if you would like to be added or removed from tag List please let me know!)

#fnaf #william afton #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #springtrap #steve raglan #william afton x reader #fnaf william afton #william afton fnaf #william afton fluff #x reader #fnaf au #fluff #fnaf fluff #x reader fluff #william afton x reader fluff

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eand47 · 21 hours ago

Text

Chapter V | Siri

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala, Robin, Dave (OC), (more to be add)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: explicit language, use of nicotine/cigarettes, use of weed/joint, slight smut, sexual content , mentions of alcohol, mentions of narcolepsy, conflict feelings, MINORS INTERACT ON YOUR OWN RISK (18+)

Word Count: 15,6K

<- previous chapter

NOTE: This chapter was rewritten like ten times and still I feel like it could of been better. As you can see from the warnings, there is some smut in it, as I decided to test the waters with it (please read the note at the end, as I don’t want to spoil anything for you at the beginning). I hope that you will enjoy the chapter as I tried to make it serious but also fun and unbelievable in some moments as it is usually in real life. Also a BIG BIG THANK YOU to all of you who comment, reblog, like and follow me it means the world to me 🥹🫶 And thank you for the sweet messages when I shared with you that I haven’t been feeling good this past week, you all are amazing human beings <3333

“It’s great, I was sure you gonna nailed it.” Dave tilted his head looking at me with a big grin spread across his face. I finished editing the footage for the music video last night and called him to meet me today for a coffee. We were sitting on a table for two in my favourite coffee shop. I was nervously biting on my nails, my brows frown not fully satisfied or convinced that the video was good enough.

“You sure? I don’t think it’s there yet.” I breathed out, rubbing my temples as I’ve already had a headache. “And I must send it by tomorrow as I promised Marco, a-and I must work on my short-cut as we start filming next week, a-a-and I don’t have location, I-I have nothing.” I gibbered, clicking on the computer mouse, opening different programs, trying to find a way to make it better. It was not good enough and I didn’t have much time left to sent it. “Why, why, why did I agree to do this?” Stress was taking over me these past days; I thought that I could manage a lot of things at the same time not realising that I was not ready for this yet.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Dave gently grabbed my hand and put the mouse away. He gently stared to run circles on my back trying to calm me down. “The video is amazing; you can’t do it any better than it is already.” He looked me in the eyes, and I could see that he meant what he was saying. “Take some deep breaths.” His tone was gentle. He put his arm around my shoulder pushing me closer to him. “You did great. Hell, I should show you the first video that I did, so you can see what a bad music video looks like.” I giggled at his attempt to cheer me up. I took a deep breath and tilted my head up as I could feel some tears building up in my eyes, ready to fall. “Hey, no crying.” Dave gently whipped the tear that rolled from the corner of my eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a cry baby I promise.” I chuckled trying to hold back the tears.

“I know you aren’t. I think you stressed yourself way too much.” His thumb continued to gently crease my cheek. I looked at him and nodded, my lip trembling. “The video is perfect, now save the files and just relax.” He reassured me again, giving me little squeeze on the shoulder.

“You are right.” I saved the files and closed the laptop. “Thank you, Dave.” I whispered, glancing at his sincere green eyes. He slightly nodded and gave me one of his sweet smiles.

“Don’t look at it anymore and just send it to their manager.” Dave let go of me and took a sip of his coffee. I also took a sip of mine and made a grimace. We stayed in silence for a second, as I was lost in my own thoughts, until Dave cleared his throat. “Can I... Can I ask you something?” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to ask whatever he had in mind.

“Of course you can.” I turned all my attention to him.

“Is there something going on between you and I think his name was Ace?” His gaze focused on me.

“What? No, why?” My eyes were shifting between him and the coffee mug in my hands.

“Well, there was obviously some tension between you two on set, so I thought that you might... you know.” He awkwardly shrugged. I puffed and gave him a dismissive wave of with my hand.

“I was just pissed because he was late, that’s all.” I lied, something I caught myself doing a lot lately, especially when it came to Ace. “I hate it when people are not serious you know, and he wasn’t that day on set, so I got pissed.” This was not a lie. Ace did piss me off with his behaviour on set, not only for that, but Dave didn’t need to know.

“Yeah, that was a little annoying.” He agreed with me. “And arrogant.” Dave added. I side-eyed him for a second. “Honestly, from all the guys he was giving the weirdest vibes.”

“What do you mean?” I wanted him to elaborate more by what he meant by Ace being the ‘weirdest’.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. He is your friend after all.” The regret in his voice was clear as he quickly apologised but I shook my head.

“We are not that close.” I pointed out. “But for real, why did you get this vibe from him? I personally think that Law is the weirdest.” I laughed, thinking of all the awkward situations I have had with Law. He was also the one I have spoken the least with.

“Nah, Law’s pretty cool.” Dave disagreed with me, nudging my shoulder. “Well, I don’t know... Ace was kinda giving me some weird looks.”

“What? For real?” I blinked surprised at Dave. “I didn’t notice anything. Are you sure he did?” Ace might be an ass from time to time, but I didn’t notice anything on set, he seemed pretty chilled with all of the guys.

“I don’t know, you are right and maybe I misread the situation.” I didn’t know what to respond, so I just gave him an awkward smile. “Look I didn’t want to bad mouth Ace or anything like it, I swear.” Dave run his hand over his hair, as he gave me a regretful look.

“Dave, please. You didn’t bad mouth anyone, if he did act like this then he is an ass.” I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. I didn’t want Dave to feel bad, for sharing his view of someone with me. “And I’m not going to tell him anything, so don’t worry.”

*************

I got home and the first thing that I did was to take a warm shower. I took of my clothes and throw them in the laundry basket. Before I got in the shower, I put some music on my phone and left it on the sink. I got in the shower and let the warm water run down my body. It helped relaxing my tensed muscles. The whole room was steamed, making everything foggy. The past few days were quite stressful for me and the upcoming ones wouldn’t be any different. From shooting the music video, to editing it and the stress if they were going to like it, to my upcoming short-cuts, my mind was going to explode. On top of it I couldn’t stop thinking about Ace, no matter how hard I tried not to. In a way he had gotten under my skin. He was so suffocating and hard to understand at times. His whole behaviour was so confusing, one second, he was all nice, bubbly and open with me and the next he was cold, and moody and overall, an asshole. I confidently can say that I’m good with reading people and understanding why they act the way they do, but Ace was another story. From what he had shared with me so far, I knew that he hadn’t had it easy in life. Especially growing up without parents, it definitely took a tool on him. I want to get to know him more and be his friend, but I’m not sure how much he would let me in his life and mind.

I couldn’t stop thinking of the afternoon we spent together on Saturday, if I was to make a cheesy movie, I would definitely recreate it. I was surprised even then how much he opened, but then so did I. Not even Nami and Usopp knew about my mother. Something that Saturday made me trust him and that same thing made him trust me. Part of me started to wonder, what if he regrated opening, as it might have been too soon, giving the fact we have known each other for almost a month. Then the scene with Samantha, and the way he was enjoying it, made my blood boil. The satisfaction in his eyes when I cut the scene right before their kiss, and the cocky smirk he had on his face, like he knew why I did it, only added fuel to my irritation with him. And the audacity to text me right after.

“Fucking Ace” I cursed under my breath as I felt myself getting irritated once again. Rubbing the bodywash up and down my body and the hot water washing it away, my mind was full of Ace. I tried to take my mind off him, but I couldn’t. I felt this warm feeling building up inside of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I ran one of my hands down my neck to my breast. Closing my eyes the first thing that my mind thought off was the feeling of when I was holding onto Ace’s torso while we were on his motorbike. “No, fuck.” My eyes shoot open as I shook my head quickly getting rid of the thoughts. I tried to calm myself as I was getting heated up. I reached for the towel hanged next to the shower door and wrapped it around myself. “Fuckin’ Ace.” I whispered to myself. “Fucking Ace.” I called out louder, as I smacked my hands on the sink. “Fuckin’, fuckin’ Ace.” I got mad at myself for letting him have such effect on me.

“Calling Ace.” My eyes widen as I heard Siri’s voice. I grabbed my phone as quick as possible, which had already dialled Ace’s number. Because of my wet fingers the screen wasn’t responding, no matter how fast I tried to cancel the call.

“Hey, doll.” His voice raspy and low. “You aren’t mad at me anymore?” He snorted.

“A-Ace.” My voice came out like I was out of breath. I slapped myself on the face.

“Uh... doll? Are you okay?” His voice sounded confused. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“So do you.” I quickly replied.

“You caught me in the middle of workout.” He huffed.

“Same.” I looked in the mirror at my reflection making a grimace at myself at the answer I gave him.

“And what are you working out?” He didn’t believe my answer at all, I could of hear it in his voice.

“Running.” I spatted out.

“So, you are working our running... interesting. How many are you running?”

“Five.”

“Five what, doll?” He laughed. “You ran out of words or something?” He teased me.

“Kilometres, five kilometres.” I scrunched my face as I mentally slapped myself, as I couldn’t come up with worse answer than this.

“Wow, impressive. We should run together sometime then.” I just hummed in respond to this. “And what made you call me?”

“I...um...I called you... because...” I tried to think of a quick excuse as I tighten the towel around my body. “Because of the video.” I blurted out.

“It’s done?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, and you are the first one to know that, remember how you ask me to be the first one to know, there you go. You welcome.” I chuckled, regaining my confidence.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I did not.”

“Ace, you did.” Was he trying to irritate me, and it was working.

“I asked you to be the first one to see it, not the first one to know.” He clarified. I bit my tongue, the audacity this man had was unmatched. “So when can we watch it?”

“I am going to emailed it to Marco, but if you text me your email, I can send it to you as well.”

“No, come over my place and we can watch it together.” I was taken aback from his suggestion.

“I’m extremely tired, so thank you, but no.” I politely decline his offer.

“Take a nap, it’s barely 3PM, I will come and pick you up around six.” He didn’t tell or ask me; he literally commanded me.

“Ace I just told you I’m tired.” I hissed.

“Didn’t I give you a solution just a second ago?” He was testing my patience at this point.

“Ace, I’m not the type you can order around.” I rolled my eyes annoyed.

“Is that a challenged, doll?” He teased.

“Ace you are...” He didn’t let me finish.

“Charmin, I know. Now tell me what your plans for the night are?” I could feel the smug smirk on his face without even seeing him.

“Sleeping.” I spatted.

“I promise I will get you back home the latest around ten.” Ace wasn’t going to give up.

“You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?” He clicked with his tongue. “Fine, but under one condition.” I sighed.

“Shoot.”

“You send me the address and I come by myself, because I’m not getting on that thing again.” He laughed as I referred to his motorbike as ‘that thing’.

“Sure, I’ll send you the address.” And with this he hung up. I ran my fingers through my wet hair and sighed deeply. I looked at my phone and whined.

“How? How did you hear ‘call Ace’, hu? Explain!” I was talking to my phone like it can respond to me. I didn’t know how to call this, but some cosmetic power out there was clearly beefing with me, as what just happened right now, was made up straight out of a movie.

**********

Around five-something pm, I woke up from the nap I took. I stretched my body and reached to take my phone and check the address that Ace sent me. It was thirty minutes away with the metro.

“Ops, guess I will be late.” I said to myself with a sly smile. Ace could wait for a little bit.

I put a pair of dark blue leggings on and just a white hoodie on top. I grabbed my bag, but first checked if I got everything with me. I left my place and went to catch the metro. After almost forty minutes I was in front of his front door. The area where Ace lived was quite nice depending on which side of it you live. He lived in the middle between the good and the bad side, which I found kind of ironic. From what I have gotten to know him so far, Ace was somehow always in between something. The building where he lived was old from the outside but renovated from the inside. He had sent me the code for the entrance door of the building, so I easily got in. His apartment was on the last floor and there was no elevator, so by the time I reached the seventh floor I was out of breath. I made a mental note to myself that I need to consider started working out. I chewed on my bottom lip as tension started to build up in me before I rang the bell, and a sight left my lips. I looked down as I was playing nervously with my fingers waiting for Ace to open the door. The door swinged open, and Ace stood in front of me. I lifted my head slowly and I was met with Ace’s bare upper body, as only a pair of grey sweatpants were hanging low on his hips. My eyes widen and I immediately looked away.

“You are late, doll.” A smug smirk was growing on his face as he saw me all flushed and avoiding his gaze.

“You are not the one to speak about who’s late or not.” I snapped quietly. He moved aside and let me in. I stepped inside and took off my shoes, kicking them on the side. Ace closed the door behind me, and I followed him. The apartment was spacious. By the entrance, on the left, was a door that was closed and next to it was the kitchen which wasn’t very big and had no door. From the small hallway we went straight to the spacious living room. The walls were anchor grey colour with some naked spots on most corners and you could see the bricks. The two big windows, on each side of the wall where a big TV was placed, were almost touching the floor, and some long off-white curtains were hanged on them. In the middle was a big L-shaped light grey couch with a square coffee table in front of it. In the right spaced corner Ace had a desk by the window, which was quite a mess with pencils and sheets of paper everywhere, even on the ground. By the desk were positioned three guitar stances, only two guitars placed there the third one missing. The corner wall there was covered in posters of different bands and artists. On the left side of the living room behind the couch almost to the corner was another door which was closed as well. The left side wall had another big window but that one didn’t reach the floor like the others. In front of it was big sideboard with a lot of picture frames on top of it. The apartment overall was super clean and tidy, which surprised me a little as I always thought of Ace as a messy guy.

“Wow, your place is amazing.” I said as he offered to take my bag, and I handed it to him, still avoiding looking at his direction. I sat on the couch where I saw the third missing guitar.

“Do you want to drink something? I have like coke and beer.” He came by the back of the couch and picked the guitar putting it back to its place.

“Is it zero?” I glanced at him, his back facing me. His broad back was defined with muscles. I always thought he had a back tattoo but apparently, I was wrong, instead the back of his shoulders was covered with freckles.

“Uh... I have to check.” He scratched the back of his neck as he smiled at me. I slowly nodded and moved my eyes away from his body as he left the room. My eyes landed on the paper sheets on the table and the pen on top of them. I tilted my head to take a better look at them.

“Do you want ice?” Ace yelled from the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” I yelled back. He came soon after with a can of Coke Zero and a glass full of ice. “Thank you.” I whispered as he handed it to me. I poured the Coke into the glass and took a big sip. Ace put the paper sheets away and sat on the other side of the sofa, leaning back as he spreads his legs like a slut, and pulled up his phone.

“Have you eaten?” He asked me without looking at me but scrolling on his phone.

“Uh, no I haven’t.” I murmured, swallowing hard.

“What do you want to eat?” He glanced at me.

“I don’t have preferences.” I shrugged. Ace looked again at me and sighed.

“Doll, relax please. You know you can lay or just lean comfortably, no need to be stiff at all. Feel at home, I mean it.” He threw one of the small pillows on the couch at me and I caught it. I didn’t say anything, I just hugged the pillow and leaned back on the couch. “So, I don’t know... Pizza?” Ace raised his eyebrows waiting for a respond.

“Sure, pizza is good.” I nodded.

“Have you tried this place ‘Pappa Grappa’ they have th-” I didn’t let Ace finished his sentence as I squeaked excitedly almost choking as I was taking a sip of the cola. Ace’s eyes widen at my reaction as he gave me a questionable look.

“Are you kidding me? They are the best! And oh my God, their chicken wings, have you tried them?” I moved to sit right next to him, excitement taking over me. Ace just shook his head in response to my question. I gasped. “Oh my God, Ace. Ace, Ace you must try them. You don’t understand those chicken wings taste like haven, like if haven was food it was going to be this chicken wings.” I grabbed him by the biceps and squeezed it, all my shyness left my body as I was babbling to him about the chicken wings. Ace smiled at my childish excitement.

“Doll, why don’t you take my phone and order whatever you heart desires and I just take care of the payment, hm?” He handed me his phone to take it.

“No, let’s split it thi-.” I insist but Ace shushed me fast.

“You are not paying for anything. Now choose whatever you want.” He leaned back on the couch, both arms behind his neck, eyes fixed on me. I wanted to protest, but arguing with Ace was impossible as he would never back up.

“But next time is on me.” I looked at him seriously.

“Yeah, sure.” He snorted. I couldn’t help but noticed that his abs tensed when he laughed. My eyes moved quickly back to his phone, as I felt a wave of heat hitting me up. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

“What pizza do you want?”

“Your choice.” I nodded to his response and went with my favourite pizza. Once I added the chicken wings as well, I handed him the phone so he could proceed with the payment. “So.. how are you doing, doll?” He put his phone in his sweatpants pocket and looked at me. Even though Ace had a smug look on his face, his eyes weren’t. His deep brown eyes had this soft look, nothing mischievous or mocking behind them, just pure softness.

“Been better, you?” I leaned on the couch, a bit of a space between us. I grab one of the pillows behind my back and put it on my lap as I brought my legs close to me and crossed them.

“Why’s that?” Ace frowned upon hearing my response.

“I’m just extremely stressed that is all.” I shrugged. “How have you been?”

“Same as always. Still stressed about your… short-cuts, was it called that?” He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

“Yeah, I haven’t found a location for the party scene, but I might ask Dave for help, as he might know someone who can let us film in his apartment.” I clicked with my tongue. Ace clenched his jaw as he hummed. “What?” I chuckled at his reaction.

“What, what?” He frowned his eyebrows.

“What was with that ‘reaction’?” I mimicked his jaw clenching and hum. Ace shook his head denying it.

“I never did this. But anyway, aren’t you here to show me the video?” He quickly changed the subject.

“Yes, I need my laptop.” I was about to stand up, but Ace stopped me and instead he did and brought me my bag. I thanked him and took the laptop out of my bag. I took a deep breath as I opened it, and it loaded. Ace sat closer to me this time, his body almost touching mine. “So, I edit it like thousand times, but this is the final edit. I was literally going crazy over it and Dave had to calm me down and reassured me that it is good.” A little giggle escaped my lips. I was too focused on the screen and didn’t see Ace rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure you did a good job.” Ace bit the inside of his cheek. I slightly tilted my head and side-eyed him, before opening the video file.

“Okay, are you ready?” I asked before pressing play. He nodded, his face emotionless. ‘Asshole’ I thought to myself, at lease he could pretend that he was excited to see his own video. I pressed play and the video started. My eyes were moving between the laptop and Ace the whole time, but I couldn’t read his face. His face was like a stone. I started to feel more and more uncertain with every passing second, biting on my nails now afraid of his reaction. What if he doesn’t like the video or worst hate it? My thoughts were running wild, while his eyes were glued to the screen. The video ended and I waited for his response.

“So…. What do you think?” I swallowed hard, the tension he was building was killing me.

“Oh, doll…” He clicked with his tongue, shaking his head as he pursed his lips. My eyes widen at his reaction.

“No, no, no.” I shook my head in distress. I jumped on my feet as I covered my face with my hands. “I knew you were going to hate it, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” My eyes filed up with tears immediately and my lip started trembling.

“No, no, hell, don’t cry, doll.” Ace jumped from the couch and grabbed me by the shoulders. “I was kidding, please, don’t cry.” He tried to calm me down.

“No, you are lying.” I didn’t believe him, his reaction said it out loud that he wasn’t happy with the video.

“No, I’m not.” He cupped my face in his hands making me look at him. “(Y/N), the video is amazing. I swear upon my dead mother I love the video, doll.” I blinked at him, as a tear rolled down my face. Ace quickly whipped it with his thumb. “Doll, please don’t cry. I just wanted to mess around with you a little, I swear.” He pulled me towards his chest and wrapped his arms around me. My heart skipped a beat. His skin was so warm and soft, yet his body felt so hard and muscular. I froze in his embrace. My heartbeat fastens, we have never been this close before, except from when were on his motorbike but that was different. I took a deep breath, and I got lightheaded. I never noticed how good Ace smelled - a woody, citrusy and musky notes perfectly mixed in one creating this intoxicating scent of a man. Ace let go of me after a moment and took a step back, lifting my chin up with two of his fingers looking at my eyes. “I’m sorry.” His eyes were sincere.

“You really like it?” My voice came out like a whisper.

“I don’t like it, I love it. I knew you can do it.” He moved a strand of my hair and gently put it behind my ear.

“You are an asshole. I hope you are aware of that.” I frowned my eyebrows at him, as I turned and sat on the couch, facing away from him. Ace smiled and sat next to me and pulled me closer to him with one hand. He wrapped it around my shoulder and whispered in my ear:

“I am. But please don’t be mad at me, doll.” His breath was hot on my skin, and I got goosebumps all over my body. I turned my head to look at him our faces inches apart. I slightly open my mouth to say something, but nothing came. My brows still frowned as I was still affected. He was just observing me, not saying anything, his eyes soften again.

“I should be packing my stuff and leave now but be thankful that I’m starving otherwise I would have been gone by now.” I finally told him, turning my head away from him. Ace heartly laughed and nodded agreeing with me. His phone rang and he quickly picked up – it was the delivery guy and Ace told him that he was going to come down in a second.

“Faster.” I yelled after him as I heard him opening the front door. He just laughed in response before closing it. I huffed and looked around. My eyes land on the big sideboard with the picture frames. I got up from the couch and went to look at them. They were mostly of him with his brothers or friends. I picked the one of all three of them as kids smiling wide with one front tooth missing, Luffy looking so much smaller than his big brothers, they were no older than eight or nine years old.

“Snooping around?” Ace said behind me. I jumped a little as I didn’t hear him coming back at all.

“Sorry, hope you don’t mind me looking at the pictures.” I chuckled still holding the frame. “This is super cute picture.” I pointed out.

“Wanna hear the story behind it?” I nodded eagerly as I handed him the framed photo. “So, me and Sabo lost the same front tooth at the same time. I think we were around nine years old. And to not feel left out, five years old Luffy went, and till this day we don’t know how he managed but took out the exact same tooth. Kid was so happy that he was matching with us, until he had to wait two years for the tooth to grow back.” Ace placed the picture on its place and we both laughed when he finished the story.

“This is so funny, but I feel so bad for poor little Luffy.” I cooed.

“Yeah, poor Luffy.” He smiled. “Come on, doll. Your wings are here, don’t want them to get cold, do you?” He pinched my cheek and turned around. Just before I followed him, my eyes landed on a picture that caught my attention. I gasped, Ace heard me and tilted his head to look at me. I carefully picked the frame in my hands. The picture was of a woman. Her hair was long very light strawberry blonde colour, a hibiscus flower was placed behind her left ear. She was smiling, her dark brown eyes were full of life and her face was cover with freckles. Ace came and stood closer to me, not saying anything.

“That’s you mom, right?” I looked at him, he was looking at the picture with so much adoration and softness. He softly hummed in response. “God, Ace she was gorgeous.” I whispered. Looking at her now I understood where Ace got his beauty from.

“I know.” He softly said.

“You look so much her.” I smiled at him. Ace looked at me with wide eyes, full of surprise and shock.

“What?” He breathed out. I put the picture back making sure I positioned it as it was before I picked it up.

“What? D-did I said something wrong?” I blinked confused.

“N-no, you are just the first person who has ever said this to me.” There was both surprise and sadness in his voice. I raised my brows not expecting to hear this.

“Are you kidding me? You are literally like her twin.” Ace swallowed hard when he heard my words. It didn’t take me long to realise that I stuck something within him with my words. I saw his reaction and gently took his hand in mind and gave it a squeeze. “I think there are some very delicious chicken wings and pizza waiting for us.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him trying to distract him from his thoughts. Ace cleared his throat and nodded, shaking the thoughts away. We sat down on the coach, and I excitedly started taking the food out of the bag.

“Could you please bring two plates and a lot of napkins please?” I flutter my eyelashes at him. He quickly got up and did exactly what I told him to do. He came back and handed me the plates as he sat down closer to me this time. “So, are you ready, to try the most tender, mouth-watering, making you taste haven, juicy, flavoury rich, orgasm reaching chicken wings in the world?” I seriously said while looking at Ace in the eyes. He covered his mouth trying to hold his laughter but his whole body was shaking. I opened the box with the wings and smelled it breathing out loudly. I took two and handed one of it to Ace.

“Now, this is not an ordinary chicken wing, so you eat them a certain way.” I lift my finger in the air pointing out how important it was for him to listen to me carefully now. “You grab the wing, you place it in your mouth and then just bite on it and pull out the bone. They are so tender that a gentle bite strips all the meat, you got it?” I pointed my finger at him.

“Got it.” He lifted his hands in the air, like he was under arrest. I gave him a cheer with the wing and nodded letting him know that he can eat now. I did the same, the moment the juiciness and the BBQ sauce touched my tongue I couldn’t stop the moan that left my lips. I leaned on the couch as I was enjoying the taste, my eyes closed. Ace was taken aback from my reaction last thing he expected was to hear me moan. He swallowed and licked his lips, looking at me.

“Doll, you good?” He lifted his head a bit to look at my face.

“I’m having soul orgasm now, please don’t interrupt me.” I lifted my hand to his face to make him stop talking. Ace burst out laughing, he put the plate to the side as he grabbed on his stomach. “What are you laughing at? This is better than sex.” I chuckled.

“Look, doll. The wings are good, I give you this – you were right about them, but…” He took a breath trying to calm himself down. “Nothing can beat sex.” He shook his head at me as he opened the pizza box taking a slice of it.

“Sex is overrated.” I disagreed with him as I took another wing, enjoying the test of it. Ace snorted out when he heard me.

“Doll, all respect here, but if you have slept only with boys who had no idea how to please a woman, that’s on them, not sex.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes at his comment. “Why the eye rolling? You know I’m right. Come on, if it’s not that personal and uncomfortable for you… have you never you know… had a mind blowing sex?” He deeply exhaled; his eyes were full of curiosity a little devilish smile playing on his lips. I sighed gesturing him to hand me a slice of pizza. He did and I thanked him, as I took a bite of it. I lifted my finger to tell him to give me a second before I response.

“I’ve done it only once so far, and it was bad, like embarrassing bad.” Shivers ran down my spine as I remembered my first time. My face cringed at the thought of it.

“Sorry to hear that, doll.” He chuckled before taking a bite of his slice. “When was it?”

“Last year.” I replied. “Yours?” I glanced at him.

“I was seventeen.” I got surprised by his answer. “What?” He noticed my reaction.

“Nothing just… I thought… I don’t know… like you are going to say something like fifteen.” I shrugged.

“I wish.” Ace huffed and we shared a laughed. ”But seriously, just because one guy did you bad, doesn’t mean all of them will.” I gave him a look and rolled my eyes at him. “Hey, take it as an advice from a friend.” He pointed his finger at me.

“Sure, Ace, sure.” I gave him a thumb up, as I was taking another wing.

“Hm, come here.” Ace gestured me with two fingers to lean towards him. I did and he ran his thumb on the corner of my lips. “You had a little sauce on you, doll.” He licked his finger clean.

“You could give me a napkin.” I remarked licking my lips.

“Why? I can always clean you good.” He smirked at me. I facepalmed myself, shaking my head as I tried not to laugh. I couldn’t deny it, but I always have fun around Ace. The moment I relax around him it feels like I could be myself without any modesty. We finished eating and I stood to clean the table, but Ace stopped me again and told me that he would take care of it. I checked the time, and it was already 9PM.

“Wanna smoke one?” Ace asked me when he finished cleaning around.

“Oh, I don’t smoke cigarettes. Plus, I have to go it’s getting late.” I half smiled at him.

“Stay the night, you can sleep in my bed, I can sleep here.” Ace shrugged as he sat next to me again. “And I didn’t mean cigarettes, I have some weed… you know we can roll one.” He winked at me, a little smirk playing on his lips.

“Thanks Ace, but some other time. I must search for a place where I can shoot the party scene tomorrow, as I have like five days until it’s my turn to film it.” I leaned my head on the back of the couch and tilted it towards Ace.

“I can help you with this just stay the night, plus I’m ether driving you, as I will not let you go alone at that time, or you stay here for the night.” His face might not seem stern, but his tone was.

“Am I a hostage now?” I lightly chuckled and pouted my lips.

“Hostages don’t have choice, but you do.” He raised his eyebrows waiting for my response.

“I don’t have anything with me Ace, not even a toothbrush.”

“I can give you one. Something else you would need, doll?” He leaned closer to me, his eyes locked with mine. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, shaking my head.

“You are so persistent.” I pushed him on the chest. Ace laughed at me before he got up from the couch.

***************

We shared a joint and now we were laying on the couch, soft music was playing in the background from the speaker. Ace was lounged on the couch, hands behind his neck, his head propped on the back of the couch. I was laying on the couch with my head leaned on Ace’s lap. I felt so high, as I couldn’t remember the last time I smoked weed. The silence between us was terrifically comfortable.

“Ace...” I whispered tilting my head up, to take a better look at him. He hummed in response not looking at me. “What made you believe in me?”

“What do you mean, doll?” His voice raspy and low, almost like a whisper.

“You had never seen any of my work, yet you trusted me enough to direct your band’s first and most important video...” I took a deep breath. “Why?” Ace didn’t respond at first.

“I don’t know, doll. I had a feeling, so I went with my gut.” He finally looked at me, his eyes were half lidded as usually but this time they were so red. He was probably as high as me. I slowly nodded moving my gaze to the wall covered with posters, knowing that I won’t get any further answers from him. As I was lost in my own thoughts I felt his hand on my head, his fingers running through my hair. This made me relax even more. “But I wasn’t wrong.” Ace broke the silence. “You did great, doll. Believe more in yourself.” My heart skipped a beat when I heard him saying this.

“It’s hard, you know?” I whispered. “I can’t shake the ‘imposter’ feeling in me, no matter what people tell me.” I quietly confessed. “It doesn’t mater how good something turns out to be, it is never a hundred percent perfect, you know? Like it can aways be better, yet it can never be perfect. Nothing can ever be perfect...” My voice was so low, I wasn’t even sure if Ace heard me. His fingers moved slowly and gently to my cheek caressing it. I leaned into his touch closing my eyes.

“I know what you mean, doll.” He softly said, voice still low and raspy. “I feel the same, after every show. I have been living with the ‘imposter’ syndrome my whole life.” I was listening carefully to Ace, as he was opening to me again. “I wish... I wish, I have been feeling, as an imposter, only for when it comes music, but... I feel that way about everything, even life itself.” I turned my head to look at his face. His eyes were looking at me. Sadness and doubt could have been read in them. I turned my body to the side and placed a hand on his chest, heart beating steady. His fingers still on my cheek as he was running them up and down slowly. “I feel like I’m bringing the guys down all the time. After every performance we have I’m a mess... and the feeling of not being good enough for anything never leaves.” My heart ached for him. Not only because I knew what he meant as I related to him, but because he didn’t deserve to feel this way. Ace was very talented and a good person as well, even when he was acting like an ass sometimes, but now more than ever I understood why... it was all an act, to protect himself. “Don’t even get me started on the family shit...” He huffed.

“Now I understand why ‘What's eating Gilbert Grape’ is a movie you related to.” Ace huffed again, but this time with a half smirk. I rose up and sat on the couch. I moved closer to Ace, who’s hands were now rested on the back of the couch. His head still leaned back on, he just side-eyed me. I slowly lifted my hand and without words, just with an exchange of looks I asked for permission if I could touch him. Ace barely nodded as he blinked letting me know without words or big gestures that I can touch him. I slowly ran my fingers through his dark locks. His hair was thick and little wavy, so soft in touch.

“Yea, even thought we are the same age with Sabo, I have always been the big brother, and I had to be the man in the house on top of it. A lot of my life choices were based on how it would affect them, but I can’t complain really, can I?” He might have said it like a joke, but the hint of bitterness was as clear as a glass. “You know, I might be twenty-five but sometimes I feel like I’m forty-five, life is so tiring at time.” I only nodded, not sure what to say and not knowing if I should say something in a first place. Ace closed his eyes, and I continued to play with hair by running my fingers thought it.

“You know...” I took a deep breath before I continue. “I might not have siblings or had the exact same difficulties in life as you... but I can always listen and be there for you, as I understand what it feels like, under different circumstances than yours of course, but still... After all what are friends for?” I placed a small smile on my face and swallowed hard, the word ‘friend’ was starting to take a bitter taste on my tongue. Ace opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Sure, doll. I’ll keep this in mind.” A half smile appeared on his lips. After a moment of silence Ace spoke first.

“You look tired, wanna go to sleep?” I didn’t want the night to end, yet. But even high I could sense that this conversation affected him in some way, and I didn’t want to push any further. I just nodded in respond to his question. He got up from the couch and I followed him. Ace opened the door to the room that was behind the couch and switched on the lights. The walls in the room were entirely naked all the bricks visible. In the middle was a big wooden pallet bed. In front of it was a big bookcase covering the entire wall. He had all sorts of books, movies and CDs on it. On the right side of the bed, next to the wall he had two black clothing racks, all his clothes hanged there. The left side had a big window with two white long curtains hanged on both ends.

“Do you want to change in something more comfortable?” He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I didn’t pay him much attention as I was admiring his film collection, reading all the titles he had.

“You have so many DVDs.” I exclaimed amazed, I knew Ace was a big movie fan already, but I didn’t know about his DVDs collection. I was even more surprised to see that a lot of them were also quite recent movies. “You know streaming platforms exist nowadays.” I teased him and tilted my head to look at him. Giggle escaped my lips, as I saw Ace faced flushed for a first time ever. I quickly stood in front of him and poked him on his stomach, as he was trying to avoid my gaze. “I didn’t know you are such a geek.” I poked him again and he tensed his muscles after every poke.

“I’m not, I just like to collect things that I like.” He grabbed my wrists before I land another poke on him. He tried to give me a warning look as I tried to fight him.

“Geek, geek.” I couldn’t stop giggling as I could see him getting more and more flushed.

“Okay that was it.” Ace said before he yanked my body and tossed me on his shoulder with an ease. I squeaked, everything around me spinning from the fast motion.

“Ace, put me down.” I closed my eyes, still trippy from the weed. “Ace, Ace please.” I whined and begged him. He was laughing at me as I was squeaking and kicking my feet in the air, my arms around his torso as I was afraid that he would drop me.

“Not so confident now doll, hu?” He tossed me up on his shoulder again and I screamed closing my eyes as I thought he was going to drop me. Ace laughed out loud as he gently laid me down on the bed. The soft mattress hit my back as Ace propped his arms on both sides of my body. His face buried at the crock of my neck. Ace couldn’t stop laughing, his body and muscles trembling and tensing. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and goosebumps ran all over my body. He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. Both of us were still high, I could see the redness in his eyes as we locked our gazes. His laughter calmed down and his eyes darken. I felt my mouth run dry as I tried to swallow the burning feeling inside of me. All that could be heard was the muffled music from the living room and our slowed breathing. The deja-vu from the Halloween party hitting my memories. This time I didn’t close my eyes as I did before. He was studying my face the same way I was his. My heartbeat quickens, and I slowly raised my hand placing it on his chest. His skin was so soft. Ace closed his eyes as he drew a sharp breath in. I could feel his heartbeat matching mine. We stayed like this for a moment. I slowly moved my hand up to the back of his neck, the urge to pull him closer to me taking over me, but I still hesitated. Ace wasn’t moving at all and closed his eyes, as his breathing got heavy. His whole body tensed as he tried to move away from me. He sat on his keens on the bed and his eyes shoot open in panic. I push myself up on my elbows with a confused look on my face.

“Doll, have I told you that I have narcol-“ Ace couldn’t finish his sentenced as his eyes rolled back and his whole body went numb. My body rose immediately and caught Ace by the arm, pulling him towards me with all the straight I have had in me. My heart was going to explode as I didn’t know what to do, and the fact that if I didn’t react so fast Ace was going to hurt himself so bad. His body was laying in my arms, as I gently placed him on the mattress.

“Ace.” I whispered trying no to panic, as I had no idea how to help him. The only thing that kept me as calm as it was possible to be in this situation, was the fact that he was breathing steady. I gently tucked a lock of hair away from his face and placed my hand on his cheek and caressed it. My thoughts were running wild, as I had no idea how long he was going to be passed out like this. I pulled my phone out from the pocket on my hoodie and started to type fast what to do in situations like this one. My eyes were moving between the screen and Ace all the time. A few minutes later Ace started to open his eyes. I froze on the bed not being able to move as I didn’t want to scare him or something. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his temples.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ace groaned loudly, as he looked at me with worry and embarrassment written all over his face. “Doll, I’m so sorry. Please, tell me are you okay? Did I fall on top of you? Are you hurt?” He sat on the bed but kept a distance between us.

“I-I’m okay, are y-you okay? What happened?” I blinked at him, the shock of what had happened still haven’t left my body.

“I’m sorry, if I scared you.” He shook his head as he cursed under his breath. “I’m narcoleptic, guess I forgot to mention it before.” He mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with me. I reached and placed my hand on his knee squeezing it.

“Ace, it’s okay. I just got panicked because I didn’t know what to do to help you. Does this happen... a lot?” My brows frowned slightly as I was concerned about him. Ace finally looked at me. He rubbed his chin and shook his head.

“Kinda, but I haven’t had a cataplexy attack in the past eight months.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts. Now that I know that he is narcoleptic, this explains why half of the time he looked so tired or emotionless. “And you don’t need to do anything, the attack passes by itself in a few minutes, and I’m still conscious in the meantime anyway.” He shrugged as he explained to me.

“Does your body hurt? I caught you in time, before you hurt yourself bad, but still I had to pull you quite hard...” I moved closer to Ace, and he snorted.

“I’m all good, doll. Don’t worry I have fallen quite a lot, so I’m used to take hits.” I pouted at him when he tried to turn this into a joke.

“Ace, it’s not funny.” I murmured. “Do you take pills for it?” I softly asked him.

“Yeah, I do. Everyday, as I have type one narcolepsy.” He gave me one last look before he got up from the bed. “If you want to change into something more comfortable take something from my clothes.” He was about to walked out of the room when I stopped him.

“You can sleep in your bed, I can sleep on the couch it’s not a problem at all, or I can call myself uber an-“ He didn’t let me finish.

“Doll, go to sleep. I’m fine, just don’t pity me now, okay.” His face was serious, while his voice was more laid.

“I’m not pitying you.” I quickly replied as I frowned my eyebrows again.

“Good.” He said as he grabbed the doorhandle to close the door after himself. “Night, doll.”

“Goodnight, Ace.” I quietly called after him as he closed the door. I sighed looking at the closed door. He was so stubborn sometimes, most of the time actually. I got from the bed to change to one of his t-shists. I found a simple white t-shirt that looked like it would sit on me like a dress, so I took my clothes off and put it instead. I turned off the lights and got into his bed. The room was not completely dark as the curtains were open and some streetlight was reflecting. I buried my head in the pillows, which smelled so much like him. Thoughts were running all over my mind and all of them were about Ace. I was tossing and turning around until sleep took over me.

**********

In the morning, I woke up around ten something. I rose and sat in the bed for a second, looking around. A yawn escaped my lips as I reached to grab my phone. My eyes widen with shock as I saw I had a message from one of the actors for my short-cut film asking where I was, as we had arranged a meeting today in the morning. I quickly called them and apologised, asking them if they could still meet me in thirty minutes. Thankfully they could so I quickly got up from the bed and dressed myself with my cloths, tossing the white shirt on the unmade bed.

“Ace?” I called out when I stepped outside the room. I looked around for him everywhere, but I couldn’t find him. Finally, I saw a note on the coffee table. I grabbed the note and read it.

“I have some early morning stuffs that I must do, I left you toothbrush in the bathroom. Eat something. There is a spear key by the door, lock it and drop it inside the mailbox. Ace” I read out loud. An unpleasant feeling set in my stomach. I didn’t expect at all to wake up and not to see him. I shook the feeling away and ran to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth. I found the spear key and locked the door behind me, dropping the key back in the mailbox. I quickly ran down the stairs and then to the metro station. While I was in the metro, I typed a short message to Ace that I dropped his key in the mailbox and thanked him for letting me stay over last night. It was so cold outside today; I was freezing with the leggings and the hoodie only. I got to the university as fast I could. Running down the hallway I ran into someone’s back accidently as I couldn’t pass by them on time.

“I’m so, so sorry.” I turned to tell them, only to be met with Dave’s green eyes.

“(Y/N), why are in such hurry?” He smiled at me, confusion written on his face.

“I forgot that I have a meeting with my actors for the short-cut and they have been waiting for me for an hour now.” I quickly explained.

“Ohh shit, then run, catch you later.” He sent me off as he flashed me another smile. I returned the smile and ran to the room where the actors were waiting for me. I apologised to them again, but they brushed me off by saying that they understood.

“Okay, let me get my laptop and we can go through the script.” I smiled at all four of them. “Fuck, no” I cursed as realisation hit me. I forgot my backpack at Ace’s place. I ran my fingers thought my hair pulling it as I tried to take some deep breaths and calm myself down. I have everything on my phone as well so it shouldn’t be a problem. They all locked at me confused as I turned around. I explained quickly what I have done, and they shared some looks between themselves. I couldn’t blame them; I was all over the place today.

“I have it on my phone so it shouldn’t be a problem.” I pulled my phone which had only thirty percent battery left. ‘Perfect, just perfect’ I thought to myself, before I started the meeting with the guys.

After an hour and a half, we were done, as we even had some time to rehears and improvise the scenes. I thanked them and told them that I will send more information regarding their rolls tonight. They bit me goodbye and left. With the remaining five percent that I had left, I texted Ace a quick message that I have forgotten my bag at his place, and I really need it as I have everything in it, even the keys to my apartment, and I would be grateful if he could bring it to me. While waiting for a response from Ace, I texted Dave to see if he was still around school. He quickly replied to meet him in the chill aera. I made my way there and he was sitting with some classmates of his. He greeted me with a big smile as always and made me some space to sit next to him.

“How was the meeting?” He asked as he saw my tired face.

“Uh, don’t ask, I made a fool of myself in front of them. They probably think that I have no idea what I’m doing, and they won’t be wrong. I’m all over the place today, I even forgot my bag so I had to work from my phone, which has no battery left.” I complained and I buried my head in the palms of my hands. Dave laughed at me and softly ran circles on my back.

“Nah, you are beating yourself up again.” He spoke. “Also, what Marco thinks of the video? Did he like it?” I almost broke my neck when I raised my head fast, as I totally forgot to sent Marco the video. Dave saw my reaction and frowned. “Please, don’t tell me you forgot to send it to him.” I slowly nodded my head at his question, biting on my lips hard. “Call him and apologies immediately, as this will come out very unprofessional.” Dave handed me his charger so I could plug my phone to charge. The moment it started to charge I called Marco immediately. I explained to him the situation and he told me not to worry much just to make sure to sent it to him by four o’clock today. I thanked him and we ended the conversation.

“Well, that went well.” I exhaled as I sat back down next to Dave. I checked my phone, but I still had no response from Ace. “He gave me time until four o’clock.” I told Dave. He patted me on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you go home and send it now?” He suggested.

“Because I wasn’t at home last night and even my keys are in my backpack.” I mumbled. ‘Why wasn’t Ace responding?’ was all I could think about. “Sorry, what?” I asked Dave to repeat as he was asking me something, but I didn’t pay him attention.

“I was asking whe-“ He got interrupted by my phone ringing. It was an unknown number and I hesitated before I picked up.

“Hello?” I spoke.

“Hey, (Y/N). It’s me Luffy.” Luffy’s cheerful voice filled up my ears.

“Oh, hey Luffy. What’s up?” I was so confused. How did he get my number and why was he calling me.

“Ace gave me your number to contact you, as he said you forgot you bag at his place last night and I must bring it to you as soon as possible. So where are you?” My whole mood changed in the span of a second. Why was Ace making Luffy do this? And the thing that offended me was, couldn’t he texted me and tell me that Luffy will do it? I would have understood him that he was busy or whatever he was doing right now, but this... this hurt me a bit.

“(Y/N) are you still on the phone?” Luffy’s voice brought me back to Earth.

“Yes, yes, sorry. Um, I’m in university but I can meet you somewhere close to your place, as we live close by, and I need to go home anyway.” I suggested.

“Okay, perfect. How does it sound in one hour, as I need some time to get to Ace’s place.”

“Yeah, sure. See you in an hour Luffy.”

“See you.” He said before hanging up.

The pang in my chest was very unpleasant. Why did he do that? I checked my messages, and he haven’t even marked them as read. Did I do something? I started to recall last night in my memories to think of something that might have triggered this behaviour in him, but I couldn’t think of anything. I felt a hand on my knee, I looked up and I met Dave’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” His voice sounded concerned.

“Yeah, just tired.” I gave him a half smile. “Hey, by the way by any chance do you know anyone who might be up to let me use their apartment for my short-cut, as mine is way too small?” I asked him, as this was another thing that I had to stress about.

“I must check with my friends, but I will let you know.”

“Thank you, I will also need some extras so if you know anyone who wants to be in front of camera give them my number.” I chuckled.

“I need your number first, before I can give it to other people, you know?” He winked at me.

“What? You don’t have it?” I exclaimed surprised. Dave clicked with his tongue and shook his head. I gestured him to give me his phone so I could put my number in it. “There you go.” I nodded at him as I handed him the phone back. I looked at the time and decided that I must leave to where me and Luffy agreed on meeting. “Thank you for the charger.” I gave it back to Dave.

“Any plans for tonight?” He asked me before I leave.

“No, but I’m planning to stay at home as I really need one night by myself.” I exhaled loudly as I was really tired.

“I understand. Well, if you change your mind let me know.” He got up and hugged me goodbye.

**********

I waited for Luffy close by the supermarket that I knew it was close to his place. The weather got even colder and at this point I was freezing. I was bouncing on one leg to the other trying to keep myself somehow warm as I couldn’t feel my toes.

“(Y/N).” I heard Luffy’s voice calling and I turned around. He had a big grin across his face. I waved and started to walk toward him to meet halfway. Luffy gave me a big warm hug. “You are freezing.” He pointed out as he handed me my bag.

“Thank you Luffy, you are a life safer.” I sniffed.

“Come on, I will walk with you.” He said and we headed towards my place. “So how have you been lately?”

“Well, been better, very stressed lately. But once next week is over, I will be able to finally relax.” I smiled at him as shivers run down my body.

“Do you want my hoodie as well, I have a t-shirt underneath.” That was so nice of him, but I shook my head. “Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes full of concern.

“I’m sure.” I nodded. “But how are you? Haven’t seen you since Halloween.”

“Prety good, preparing for competition.” He responded.

“What competition?”

“Oh, you might not know but I run marathons. I have already won five, but this one is nothing big, only for people from my university.” He explained.

“Wait, you go to university?” I had no idea that Luffy studied, Nami and Usopp have never mentioned anything, and so did Luffy.

“Yeah, I’m studying animation.” His smile grew even bigger.

“What? Are you for real?” My eyes widen in surprise. I would have never guessed that Luffy was studying something as hard as animation, I didn’t even know that he can draw.

“Shihihih, yes, I am.” Luffy laughed at my reaction. “Don’t worry everyone react like this, I’m not the smartest out there, but I’m not stupid.” He raised his chin. “I might be a little dumb sometimes tho.” He nudged my arm. We laughed together. “But why are you so stressed?”

“Well, your brothers video first, it was a big challenged. And second the short-cut projects, maybe you have heard about it from Nami or Usopp. I need to find a nice apartment as soon as possible where I can shoot my film.” Tension took over my body once again.

“I can ask Sanji. He lives in a very nice and big apartment, I’m sure he wouldn’t say not.” Luffy pulled out his phone and quickly typed something in it. “Done.” He grinned at me. “I will let you know when he response.”

“Oh my God, Luffy you shouldn’t have to. Thank you so much.” I gave him a hug. He laughed again.

“Nothing to thank me for, Sanji still haven’t replied.”

“But still just the fact that you asked him, is so nice of you.” I smiled at him again. Luffy rubbed his chin and turned his head to look at me.

“By the way, is something going on between you and my brother?” Another thing about Luffy was that he was very straight forward.

“No, nothing. We are just friends, that’s all.” The bitter feeling came back, as I answered Luffy’s question. “Why?”

“It was just super strange, like... Ace never lets girls sleep over his place, so when he called me today in the morning to tell me to bring you your stuff, I got quite surprised.” He didn’t seem to give it a second thought, for which I was glad. But also, what he said caught my attention. Why wouldn’t Ace let girls stay over his place? That was strange.

“No, Luffy. Nothing is going on between your brother and I.” I repeated to assure myself more than him. “He just wanted to see the video first and then we just chitchat and it got late, and he offered me to stay over as I was super tired.” Part of what I said was true. “But could you please not tell anyone, as I don’t want people to get the wrong idea, you know...” I looked down at my fingers and nervously played with them.

“Didn’t plan to tell anyone anyway.” He winked at me. We reached my place, and we turned to face each other. “I will let you know when Sanji response.” He hugged me.

“Thank you, Luffy. You are the best.” I said returning the hug. We said goodbye and I ran to my apartment as I was freezing. The first thing I did when I got inside was to turn my laptop on and sent all the files to Marco. I made myself a cup of tea to warm myself. When all the files for the video were sent to Marco I relaxed a bit. I looked the at clock and it was barely 3PM. Instead of wasting time I pulled my sleeves up and started to work on my final touches for the short-cut. I was so focused on work I didn’t realise that almost two hours had passed since I last checked my phone. I had a couple missed calls from Marco, a message from Luffy and one from Usopp. I returned the call to Marco immediately before checking the messages from Luffy and Usopp. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.

“Hey, Marco. Sorry for not retur-“ Marco interrupted me mid sentence.

“(Y/N), great job with the video. I love it and so did the guys. We will release it on Tuesday. You definitely have the talent for it, kid. Keep the good work going.” He ended the phone call so fast I couldn’t process what he just told me. I just nodded to myself before checking the messages from Luffy and Usopp.

‘Sanji said that you can use his apartment, here is his number to contact him for more info.’ I got so happy when I read Luffy’s message. I immediately texted Sanji to thank him and to ask if I could meet with him and see the apartment so I could do my floor plan. Then I moved to Usopp’s message in which he congratulated me on the video.

‘Thank you, for helping me <3’ I texted Usopp back.

I couldn’t stop myself from checking if Ace at least marked the messages as read. He didn’t. Part of me wanted to text him and ask if he was mad at me for something, but I didn’t. He was in one of his moods again. I would just need to wait until he was in the mood to talk with me again, but I’m not sure how much I would want to speak with him then. I tried to shake him off my mind, as I got back to work.

********

The gym was almost empty due the fact that it was Friday night, so most people were skipping today, so they could get ready for a night out. Law glanced at Ace, who was too focused on his bench press set. Ace was clearly disturbed today, as he hasn’t been this moody in a while.

The music was blasting in Ace’s ear as he was focused on his set, not paying attention to anything else. Last night was on repeat in his mind as he couldn’t get (Y/N) off from his mind. The things they shared, how much he had opened to her, something he had never done before with another girl. On top of it he let her sleep not only in his house but in his bed. He broke his main rule, no girls over his house. Especially his bed, as in his mind that meant letting someone in your very personal space. And Ace hated to have people not close to his heart invading it. In the morning when he woke up, he had to go to his room as he had to get dressed for the day, but he had forgotten to take some clothes the night before. He entered the room as quietly as possible and quickly grabbed the first pair of jeans and a hoodie he could see. Ace couldn’t contain himself and took a glance at (Y/N)’s sleeping form. She was sleeping peacefully all wrapped up in the bedsheets, hugging one of his pillows. Ace smiled at the sight of her. ‘Yeah, you look like the type that likes to cuddles’ he thought to himself. He cursed under his breath for even thinking that and quickly left the room. No woman before has been let this close to him. He was letting (Y/N) too much into his life. Not only this, but he has never had a cataplexy attack in front of a girl. Yes, he has had his daily narcolepsy episodes in front of girls, but never to a point where his muscles weakness. Part of him was embarrassed, but he was more concerned about the fact that she had this effect on him. On the other hand, it was good that it happened as Ace knew he was about to lose it last night. The way she wrapped her arms around him wanting him closer, knowing that she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her. God he was going to take her right there on the spot. And the moan that had left her lips when they were eating, he could listen to this for hours. He could only imagine how sweet it would sound to listen her moaning and whining under him while he has his ways with her. Whoever had his way with her must be a fool to messed it up so badly. But it didn’t mater, as Ace was not going to step over that line with her. She wasn’t a girl for a one-night stand, and he couldn’t give her what she deserved so he had to keep his distance from now on. Ace wasn’t a relationship guy, neither he planned to be anytime soon. So, for a bit he must distance himself form (Y/N) for her own good.

Law dropped the dumbbells he was using and went to where Ace was working out. He was in the middle of his set when he saw Law standing next to his bench to spot him. Ace grunted and breathed out loudly, once he finished with the set and put the barbel back. He rose from the bench sitting up, pulling his headphones on the side.

“I don’t need you to spot me.” He spat at Law.

“I can see that.” Law crossed his arms over his chest as he glanced at the added weight to the barbel. “But you kinda going to die on the spot if you fall asleep pushing 160kg, you know.” He pointed out.

“I wish I can go away that easy.” Ace murmured before grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip.

“What’s up with you Ace?” Law face got serious and so did his tone. Ace gave him an annoyed look.

“Nothing.” He replied putting his headphones back before he laid on the bench press for another set. Ace rolled his eyes as he saw Law not moving away, but instead standing to spot him. He finished with his set and got up to add some more weight to the barbel. Law was just looking at him, wondering what got him so heated up. Adding how stubborn Ace was, Law knew that it would take him some time to make Ace tell him about what was bothering him.

“Pushing for a new personal record?” Law looked down at Ace as he loaded the weight. He didn’t get any response from Ace as the music was blasting in his ears.

When they were done with their workout before leaving the gym Law asked Ace if he was up for a drink later, even thought he was sure Ace would tell him to fuck off. Surprisingly for Law, Ace agreed. They bit each other goodbye and left the gym. After ten minutes ride Ace parked his motorbike in front of his building. He let a deep sigh once he entered his apartment and closed the door. He threw his gym bag on the floor and went straight to the bathroom. The first thing that caught his attention was the pink toothbrush he left for (Y/N) on the sink corner. He huffed and grabbed the toothbrush ready to throw it away but stopped himself for a second. ‘What if she needs it again?’ the thought crossed his mind before he had the time to assimilated it. Realising what just went thought him mind, he threw the toothbrush immediately.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” He cursed himself as he shook his head in disbelief of his own thoughts. He stripped himself from the sweaty clothes he was wearing and got in the shower. Ace adjusted the water to the coldest and let it run all over his body. His whole body tensed from the ice-cold water. He bit on his lip hard suppressing the groan that wanted to escape his lips. Looking down at his body Ace cursed under his breath again.

“What am I now? Fourteen?” He hissed as he wrapped his hand around his hard erection. “Come on, go away.” Ace whined as even the cold water wasn’t helping. He ran his hand through his wet hair. Ace closed his eyes as he squeezed his hand around his throbbing cock, letting a low grunt. He took a few deep breathes before moving his hand up and down. The thoughts of (Y/N) occupying his mind once again. This time he let the thoughts of her run through his mind. He couldn’t help but imagine her – down on her knees, looking at him from under her lashes. The way her (eyes colour) eyes would beg him to fuck her mouth. She might not be a virgin, but he would definitely need to teach her how to please him. Ace took a sharp breath just thinking of this. ‘Yes, yes I will teach you everything you need to know, doll’ a smirk appeared on his face when he thought of it. She was smart, so she would learn fast. He would make sure to teach her exactly how to wrap her pretty lips around him.

“Fuck.” Ace grunt as he threw his head back just thinking of her lips. The way they would feel kissing and wrapping around his dick. Ace propped his hand on the wall while fasting the pace around his painfully hard length. To have her, right here, right now would feel like heaven. Ace would be gentle with her, at least at first. He would let her take her time, as she would lick like a kitten the pre-cum leaking from his pink tip. Then the way she would wrap her pretty lips around it and give a twist with her tongue. She would cover it all with kisses while giving him slow stokes, preparing herself to take it. To then watch her struggle taking all of him in her pretty mouth, having to wrap her hand around what she couldn’t take. Ace would lose it then, as he wouldn’t be able to control himself anymore and just start to fuck her sweet mouth. The way he would wrap his hand around her hair, pulling and guiding her how to please him. A loud moan escaped his lips as he felt that he was getting close. The image of her, on her knees, his cock in her mouth, having her choking on it while hearing her begging whines and tears running down her eyes while he deepthroat fucks her. The more he was thinking of it the closer he was getting. If she was here, the way Ace imagined her, he would make sure to paint her face with his cum. Her pretty face, all covered with his hot cum, dripping down on her and her pretty lips. This though alone made his whole body twitched and his hips jerked as he gave himself one last stroke and cum spilled all over his hand and wall. Ace cursed loudly as he threw his head back from the feeling of release. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as he tried to collect himself.

It took him sometime to calm himself down as he felt the cold water on his back. He quickly switched the water to a normal temperature as washed his body. Ace cursed himself again. Maybe the reason he was so attracted to (Y/N) was because he restrained himself. If he had already fucked her maybe she wouldn’t have crossed his mind ever again. He just needed to get laid that was it, and he was planning to do it tonight.

Ace got out of the shower and grabbed his towel wrapping it around his hips. When he entered the bedroom, his eyes landed on the unmade bed and his white t-shirt that he saw (Y/N) wore while sleeping. He grabbed the t-shirt, and the smell of her perfume hit him. Ace went and threw it in the laundry basket frustrated. Last thing he needed right now was a piece of clothing that smelled like her. He took his phone and looked at the time. It was already nine o’clock. Ace quickly towel dried his hair and tried to style it but gave up leaving it falling messy around his face. He put a black sweatshirt on with a dark grey pants and a belt around his waist. Grabbing his jacket and keys Ace left his place.

It took him twenty minutes to reach the place where he and Law usually hang out. The bar was very known around Grand Line. Ace entered the place and looked around for Law. He was sitting by the bar and when he saw Ace he waved at him. Ace nodded and walked to Law, taking the seat next to him. Law was wearing a white loose fit unbuttoned shirt with some dark blue pants.

“What are you drinking?” Ace asked him.

“Old fashion.” Law replied while taking a sip of his drink. Ace nodded and turned to order to the bartender who gave him a charming smile. Ace smiled at her and made his order. While making it she didn’t take her eyes off him.

“One ‘Old Fashion’” She said sultry while placing the drink in front of Ace. He just winked at her and gave her an extra tip when he paid. “Thank you, let me know if you would like something else.” She returned the winked and went away. Ace chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“So, are you in better mood now?” Law wasted no time getting straight to the point.

“What made you think I wasn’t in a good mood earlier?” Ace turned to the side to look at Law.

“Come on, Ace. What’s with you recently? Especially today.” Law crossed his arms waiting for Ace’s respond.

“Nothing, I told you.” Ace took another sip of his drink.

“Ace I’m not buying this shit.” Law knew that something was bothering his friend, and he wasn’t planning to drop it that easy. “Is everything okay at home?” he couldn’t think of anything else that might get Ace this worked up.

“As far as I know, yeah.” Ace bluntly answered. Law rubbed his beard frowning his brows at him. “Law drop it, man. I’m... I’m fine.” Ace started to tap his fingers on his glass avoiding looking at Law. They stayed like this for a moment before Ace broke the silence. “Did you fix things with Robin?”

“Kinda.” Law murmured. Ace raised his eyebrow at him. “She wants something serious, and I’m not sure that I can give her that.” Ace snorted when he heard Law’s response. He raised the glass to his lips to take a sip of it but couldn’t contain his laughter so Ace burst out laughing. Law pushed his shoulder, making Ace look at him.

“Sorry, bro. Just...” Ace started to laugh again.

“Man, what’s so funny?” Law was so confused by Ace’s reaction.

“You two have been on and off for two years, at this point make up your minds.” Ace chuckled. “Damn, and I thought I have it bad..” He murmured under his nose.

“Wait, what?” Law raised his brows confusion. “Is this whole attitude thing because of a girl?” Ace clenched his jaw and side-eyed Law. Now it was Law’s turn to burst out laughing.

“Oh, shut up.” Ace rolled his eyes at him. Law continued to chuckle when he looked at Ace and tried to calm himself. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“It’s not the blonde girl, what was her name Savanna?”

“Samantha and no. She was just a quick fuck, even tho she hasn’t stop blowing my phone.” Ace rubbed his temples.

“Oh, oh, I have a guess.” Law smirk as Ace glanced at him. “It’s the little director, isn’t it?” The way Ace clenched his fingers around the glass told Law everything he needed to know. “Hell, I’m right, it is about (Y/N).” Just the mentioned of her name made his whole body tense. “So, care to share?” Law chuckled.

“Nothing is happening between us, so there is nothing to share. We are... just... I don’t know, not really friends let’s say acquaints.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. Don’t think I’m blind.” Law snorted. “The tension you two had on set could be felt from miles away. And the looks you were giving to the guy behind the camera...” He mocked Ace, who was clearly getting worked up all over again. “So, care to explain exactly what is going on between her and you?” Law was patiently waiting for Ace to start talking. Ace cursed under his breath before looking at his friend.

“She slept over last night.” Ace murmured. Law’s eyes widen as he heard this. That was definitely something new. “We didn’t do anything, tho. We could of but I got cataplexy attack. Which has never ever happened before with a girl.” His cheeks started to flush. “And another thing is that she listens, man. Not only listens, but she also understands me. I have opened to her about some personal stuffs can you believe it?” Ace spat; Law was carefully listening to him. “But that is not like my main problem right now...” He started to massage his temples, deep breath escaping his lips. “I know that I don’t like her, like... you know something serious as I don’t want anything serious, but at the same time I’m weirdly attracted to her, and I think it is because I restrain myself.”

“What do you mean by ‘restrain’ yourself?” Law raised his eyebrow confused.

“I can’t sleep with her.” Ace fussed. “She is so close to Luffy’s friends, and they are the same age, come on. I see all people at Luffy’s age as kids.” He took a big sip of his drink almost finishing it. “On top of it she is Shanks’ niece.” Ace added, giving Law a knowing look.

“Ace it’s just four years. Plus, she seems, well, she is quite smart girl, so I think you are the one who makes it too complicated, not her.” Law couldn’t really see the problem. When they were filming the video together it was clearly that there was some chemistry between them. “Plus, you can always be like fuckbuddies, no feelings attached just sex. Just sleep with her once, and if you continue to feel that way then get all this moody and shit.”

“She will get attached.” Ace whined. “She told me that she had slept with a guy only once, and it was bad on top of it, so basically, she is a fucking virgin.” Law nodded understanding at Ace’s statement. “And she is a very nice girl. You know, I will feel bad to just use her for one night.” He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t that big of an ass, to play with someone like (Y/N)’s feelings.

“So, what do you plan to do then?” Law was carefully studying his friend’s face.

“Distant myself for now. But this time for real, as I tried before but... never mind. I just need to get laid that’s all.” Ace explained, his eyes not leaving now the empty glass. Law decided to not say anything further. The solution was easy but Ace was stubborn, so it was pointless to give him any advice.

A few drinks later, both Ace and Law were having a good laugh; talking about the band upcoming projects, and things that both were interested in. Time flew fast and it was around midnight when something caught Ace’s attention mid-conversation. He squeezed his eyes trying to see better. His eyes landed on a girl, and she looked super familiar from the back. Was that (Y/N)? The hair was the same colour and length. She also seemed to be the same height. He hesitated for a moment before he turned to Law and told him that he would be back in a second. Ace slowly made his way to the girl. If it was (Y/N) what was he going to tell her? Why was he even going to check if it was her, when he literally told himself to keep his distance with her. It was the alcohol. Yes, he can blame it on the alcohol. And if it was her, he could just say ‘hello’ and that’s it, out of politeness. He felt his heart beating faster as he was close to approach the girl. When he stood behind her, he gently tapped her on the shoulder. She quickly turned around, and it wasn’t her. The girl flashed him a cute smile.

“Yes, can I help you?” She fluttered her lashes at Ace.

“Oh, sorry. I mistook you for someone else.” Ace smiled at her and was about to turn around and leave when she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, not so fast.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m Diane.”

“Ace.” He replied. Ace took a better look at her. She low-key looked like (Y/N), not as pretty, but still nice. “How is your night going Diane?” A smug smile formed on his face.

“Pretty good. Always can get better.” She bit her lip, her tone sultry. “Who were you looking for?”

“Doesn’t matter. Came across something better.” Ace saw the way her cheeks blushed. These cliché lines were always working. Not always, he knew someone who was going to roll her eyes and tell him to come up with something better. But Ace shook away the thought of (Y/N). He had her low-key doppelganger here, so it would work for the night.

“Are you alone here?” She wrapped a curl around her finger and played with it.

“I have my friend over there.” He pointed at Law. “Would you ladies mind us joining you?” Ace nodded his head and looked at the two other girls sitting with Diane, flashing them a charming smile. They all giggled and told him that they wouldn’t mind. Ace turned to look at Law who was looking at his direction. He nodded his head at Law to come and join them. Law got up and made his way to them. He introduced himself to the girls and started to chitchat with them. They were giggling and blushing at him. Law wasn’t planning on doing anything with anyone tonight as he had promised Robin to go to her place after, but still little flirting with some girls wouldn’t hurt anyone. It didn’t go unnoticed by him that the girl Ace was focused on was quite similar in looks to (Y/N). Law has been there before and done that. Trying to fill the void he was feeling with girls looking like Robin, but at the end of the day none of them were her. Law didn’t want to say anything to Ace, as he knew how his friend stands on relationships, but the whole ‘I will keep my distance’ or ‘we will just be friends’ bullshit wasn’t going to work. At the end Ace was either going to end up in the same situation as Law, or maybe worse.

Another hour passed and Law received a message from Robin, asking him where he was. That was his reminder that the night for him was over. He excused himself to the girls and went to Ace to tell him goodbye.

“You are leaving?” Ace asked surprised. His eyes were half lidded since he got way too many drinks tonight.

“Yeah, man. Robin is waiting for me.” Law patted him on the shoulder. “Take care tonight, okay?” Ace rolled his eyes at Law and waved him goodbye. Law took one last glanced at his friend before leaving.

“Wanna go to your place?” Ace smirked at Diane who was sitting in his lap. He ran his fingers up and down her shoulder and neck. She cupped his face and eagerly smacked her lips on his. Ace returned the kiss, taking her lower lip between his teeth biting it. The kiss quickly grew hot as Ace’s hands started to roam all over her body. “Should I take this as an ‘yes’?” He whispered in her ear. Goosebumps ran all over her body and she just nodded her head. She called an uber and they quickly left.

Her hair might have not been as soft to touch as (Y/N)’s, neither her skin smelled as sweet as hers, and the way her eyes were looking at his didn’t spark any flame in him. But she was just for the tonight. And she had similar look to her. He didn’t even need to look at her face. The moment they laid on her bed, Ace turned her on her stomach, bending her over. And something dark took over him. He did care for the pleasure of the girls he was sleeping with. Always taking his time with them, making them feeling good first. But tonight, he was selfish. This girl wasn’t (Y/N). She was a cheap replica, nothing close to what he would feel or do to her if his doll was here. Even her moans didn’t sound anything close to hers. But again, this wasn’t the biggest problem. The biggest problem was the fact that (Y/N) wasn’t leaving his mind. And this was something that has never ever happened before. Somehow, she had found her way to get under his skin and he needed to burn her from there as soon as possible.

next chapter ->

END NOTE: I really hope you guys enjoyed it. I know that the 'smut' part wasn't anything wow, but I'm just testing the waters with it. At first it was totally different and it wasn't planned to be for Ace, but now I'm happy that I decided to write it for him, as in a way it suits his character more. Please let me know what your thoughts about it and what could I change in the future for when I'm writing a smut (u can either comment or message me). Also I felt so awkward writing it, but is it a fanfic if there is no smut in it? Feel free to comment and reblog, much love <333

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