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bluehoodiewoozi · 18 hours ago

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I don't think there are enough words in the world to describe how much I loved this fic. Like, magical cozy romances are literally my favourite genre of writing, ever, and this was such a perfect version of it??

I apologise for the lengthy commentary but when I read the fic, I found myself compiling a list of my favourite sentences and such, and I just have so many thoughts and here they are (and this is kind of the short version, because istg if i had a physical copy of this fic, it would be covered in pink highlighter and doodled hearts and underlined lines and you get my point):

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

ASFHSAD the fact that he was down bad for her from the moment he opened his freaking eyes makes me kind of feral. I love it. I love it. I love it. And the fact that he only seems to fall deeper and deeper for her? I am so soft for Vernon.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

I screeched! I love Seungcheol but he was really testing my patience in this fic (even if his intentions were noble) and when this scene came, I quite literally cheered. Yes, Vernon, freaking tell him! Protect your girl's honour! (Did I mention I love this portrayal of Vernon?)

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise. “Really? How?” “You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

Listen. I've read like 20 romance novels since last summer and this scene lowkey tops all of them. Oh, to have a gorgeous sweetheart of a man compare me to spring -- the season of beauty and youth and warmth! I am weak at the knees! I am melting!

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.” To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.”

What if I told you I squeaked in delight??? Like actually???

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.” You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

He's just an affectionate guy, your honour! Nooo but this was so cute! And so funny -- I swear I spent like half the fic laughing and the other half kicking my feet and giggling. Also did I already mention this is my new favourite, most beloved portrayal of Vernon?

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Hansol being awkward with kids but becoming every kid's favourite guy is so on brand actually.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

I have nothing to say except that I was absolutely cackling at the description of Soonyoung.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.” Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration. “That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

The fact that the 'you're the prettiest person alive' thing came full circle??? The fact that they're so in love? That it feels so sweet and natural somehow? Like it was meant to be?

And can I just say that your descriptions of the magic is so incredibly beautiful? Like I was in freaking awe. I am obsessed with it.

TL;DR I might become physically ill from how goddamn sweet and adorable and heart-fluttering this whole thing was oh my god. If you should ever decide to write a fic in the similar genre or something, please please please let me know and I'll forever be in your debt, you amazingly talented person <3

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you.

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?”

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

“There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽,

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument.

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were.

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd.

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt.

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river.

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river.

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying.

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice.

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!”

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽,

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch.

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai.

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see.

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds.

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on.

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽,

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!”

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.”

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands.

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽,

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along.

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see.

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work.

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽,

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.”

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says.

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?”

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside.

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up.

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort.

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power?

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽,

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days.

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off.

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽,

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing.

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you.

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower.

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise.

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants.

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽,

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin.

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.”

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes.

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers.

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting.

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽,

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles.

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn’t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway?

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽,

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn.

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him.

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽,

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace.

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him.

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around.

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him.

But, like you said, that was the plan.

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square.

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him.

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet.

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first.

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too.

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him.

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile.

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made.

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces.

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

“I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽,

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile.

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own.

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

#avy recommends #recs: vernon #i think this is the most excited and in love i've ever been with a fic and i'm not even exaggerating

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jakescapes · 2 days ago

Text

𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 2)

pairing: stalker!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: It all started when you met Jake Sim—the campus golden boy everyone adored. Charming, new, and impossible to resist, you quickly become his obsession. But as you fall deeper into his world, you realize the person you're falling for isn’t who he appears to be. And soon, you're trapped in a game you never agreed to play.

warnings: non-con/dub-con!!, suffocation, reader passing out at some point, manipulation, public groping, explicit smut, also not proof read that well

word count: 16k

author's note: hi guyss, im kinda disappointed with this. i feel like i started this story out really strong but i feel like it's rlly rushed towards the end. ive just been rlly needing to finish it so i can get to my other projects, so sorry abt that. also there might be some typos and stuff, i didnt get to properly proof read, but still hope u enjoy!

now playing: mind games by sickick

Jake froze, every muscle in his body locking into place as the faint sound of your voice echoed throughout the apartment, shooting up from the floor in haste. The lighthearted remnants of your voice getting farther away from the front door made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Acting swiftly, he began to hurriedly put all of your panties and bras back into the drawer, fumbling and folding them to make them look as untouched as possible. The faint sound of your footsteps grew louder, and when he heard the soft creak of the floorboards just outside your bedroom door, panic surged through him like a lightning bolt.

The doorknob rattled. Jake’s heart thundered in his chest. There was no time. His eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape plan. He had to hide. Quick.

Without thinking, he dove underneath your bed, barely managing to squeeze his long frame into the cramped, dusty space. It was uncomfortable, the sharp wood frame pressing into his back, but he didn’t have the luxury to care.

As he lay there, Jake pressed his face into the musty carpet and swallowed hard, forcing his breathing to slow. He couldn’t make a sound, not even a whisper of movement, trying to act as invisible as possible. He listened intently, every nerve on edge, as your voice drifted into the room, still lighthearted and casual.

“…I mean, sucks that that one store was closed. Seriously, who closes at 1:30 on a Sunday? What are they, trying to be some knock-off Christian Chick-fil-A or something?” you joked, your voice drawing a laugh from your roommate in the other room.

Jake clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the dust tickling his nose and the pounding in his chest. His mind raced. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited, praying you wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

“…Right? It’s like, I get wanting a day off, but why not just close earlier or something?” Ava replied.

You dropped your bag onto your bed with a sigh, the springs creaking slightly above Jake's head. “Honestly, I’m not even mad about it. I just wanted an excuse to drag you out of the apartment anyway. You’ve been holed up in here all weekend.”

Your roommate groaned dramatically from the hallway. “Okay, but I deserved that lazy weekend. Unlike you, Miss Overachiever, I don’t like voluntarily overloading myself with assignments.”

"It’s called being responsible. You should try it sometime.”

Ava stepped into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “You know who else seems responsible? Jake.”

Jake stiffened under the bed, his heart skipping a beat as his name fell from your roommate’s lips.

You rolled your eyes, flopping down onto the mattress, unknowingly inches above the current topic of discussion. “Don’t start, Ava.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, walking into the room. “He’s cute, he’s smart, and he literally likes you. What’s the holdup?”

You sighed, your voice tinged with hesitation as you stared up at your ceiling. “I don't know. He’s… really sweet, and he always knows how to make me laugh. I mean, he’s so easy to be around, you know? But sometimes, I get this weird feeling. Like, maybe I’m just overthinking it, but it’s just something is off and I can't ignore it."

Jake’s jaw clenched as he lay silently beneath the bed, every word you said hitting him like a blow.

Ava dismissed your concerns with a wave of her hand. “Are your seriously going on about this again? You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a guy. A really hot, really sweet guy who, for some insane reason, actually likes you.”

“Thanks. Your pep talks are always so inspiring,” you said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile in your voice.

Jake’s mind raced as he absorbed the conversation. On one hand, he was relieved to hear that you liked him, even if you did think he was “off.” But on the other hand, your words lit a fire under him. If you thought he was acting weird, he needed to make sure you didn’t anymore. He had to fix that. He had to fix you.

Your roommate just shrugged, heading back toward the hallway. “Whatever. Just let me know when you’re finally ready to admit you’ve got a thing for him.”

You groaned. “Go away, Ava.”

When the door finally clicked shut and you were left alone in the room, Jake could hear the springs creak again after a few moments as you shifted on the bed. He held his breath, praying you wouldn’t look down or notice anything unusual. If, for whatever reason, you decided to take a peak under your bed, he was done for.

The soft creak of the bed springs put Jake on high alert as you shifted your weight and got up, crossing the room toward your mirror and dresser. He stayed still at first, his body tense and pressed against the floor, but curiosity got the better of him. Slowly and cautiously, he tilted his head, peeking out from under the edge of the bed frame.

His breath caught as his gaze settled on you, oblivious to his presence, adjusting the chain of a delicate necklace in front of the mirror. The way you brushed your fingers over the small pendant, the subtle furrow in your brow as you tilted your head to inspect how it sat against your skin—it captivated him. Jake couldn’t help but stare, his pulse quickening as he watched your every movement.

You opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of earrings and holding them up to your ears, deliberating. To Jake, it was fascinating, how meticulous and graceful you were with such simple actions. He’d never seen this side of you before. It was intimate in a way that made his chest tighten.

But then you paused, turning your head slightly as if you sensed something out of place. Jake ducked back under the bed in an instant, his heart pounding in his chest.

Had you seen him? Did you hear something?

"Ugh, where’s that other earring?” you muttered to yourself, your voice breaking the silence. Jake exhaled quietly in relief, the tension in his body easing just enough to steady his nerves.

He clenched his jaw, realizing how reckless he was being. Yet, despite the danger of being caught, he felt an odd thrill coursing through him, an electric mix of fear and exhilaration.

That sensation intensified even more in the next moment, because the next thing he knew, your jeans were dropping to the floor from of your body. They were then followed by the top you were just wearing seconds ago.

Oh my god, he thought.

You were getting naked. Right in front of him.

Jake's attention piqued even more as he adjusted his head slightly, angling it to get a clearer view from the narrow crevice under your bed. The soft glow of your lamp illuminated your features as you slipped off your panties next, and then unclasped your bra, letting them all fall the to the floor right next to the other discarded pieces of clothing.

It all felt so intimate, so unguarded. Jake’s breathing slowed as he tried to remain as quiet as possible, his body stiff and heart racing, a mix of adrenaline and something deeper coursing through him (his arousal).

Speaking of, Jake immediately got hard, once again, at the sight—feeling his jeans getting tighter and suffocating his dick against the floor as it began to grow. However, it was definitely not the right time to pull his fucking dick out right now, and he knew that. Mostly because there certainly wasn't enough room for him to jerk off anyway, and less because he feared being too loud and getting caught.

But really, who could blame him? Any man with a decent pair of eyes would understand Jake’s fascination. Look at you. You were gorgeous. The way your hair cascaded down your slender back, catching the light just right, as you stood in front of the mirror. The subtle way you tilted your head, studying your own reflection with that quiet intensity, as if you were both admiring and critiquing yourself. It was mesmerizing. The way that your tits sat so perfectly, so perky, right above your waistline, perfectly accentuating your figure. Your belly button piercing glinted subtly under the light, resting perfectly against your skin, almost like a cherry on top of an already stunning masterpiece.

Your long legs. They seemed to go on forever, effortlessly graceful as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Everything about you screamed perfection in a way that felt almost unfair to anyone lucky, or unlucky, enough to be in your orbit.

And who could forget that ass of yours? Jake, of course, couldn't. Only getting glimpses of what it looked like when you wore jeans or even those tight, tight yoga pants that drove him crazy definitely couldn't have prepared him for the sight before him. It was so round and curvy, resting perfectly against your hips. I could get used to this, he thought. He had fantasies about it, and now, those said fantasies were certainly growing by the moment, as he just stared right at you. Fantasies of grabbing it, slapping it as hard as he could. Didn't even care about leaving marks or bruises, knowing that except for you, he would be the only one seeing them anyway.

He so badly wanted to get a good look at your pussy. But that damn mirror, the one attached to the dresser, ended just where your hips were, blocking any chance of him catching a glimpse of what lay further. With your back turned towards him, it was as if fate had decided to toy with him, letting him catch only fragments of your perfect image before the mirror cut it off. He could only imagine the rest, and the thought of it made his chest tighten with frustration.

But at the end of the day, it was no big deal. The thought of seeing your sweet, perfect little pussy for the first time, up close while he undressed you and ate it out didn't sound so bad. Saving the best for last, I guess. He promised to himself in that moment, that he would eat it so fucking good it would leave you fucking desperate and begging for more.

Jake liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

But suddenly, the sound of you walking towards your connected bathroom snapped him out of his thoughts. Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he heard the water turn on in the bathroom a few seconds later. The faint hum of the shower running provided a small but crucial cover for his movements. And as much as he wanted to witness you after a nice, hot shower, probably only wearing a tiny towel wrapped around your body and topped with a sexy messy bun, he knew this was his only opportunity to slip out unnoticed.

Still lying under the bed, Jake strained to listen for any sudden sounds that could signal your return to the bedroom. Satisfied that the shower was fully running and you were preoccupied, he slid out from under the bed as quietly as possible, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid any creaking from the floor.

Once on his feet, he scanned the room to ensure everything was back in its place. His sharp eyes darted around for any evidence of his intrusion, opening up your dresser drawers once more to warrant anything suspicious. Satisfied, he grabbed just a few more pairs of your panties (for safekeeping of course), before he tiptoed toward the door, making sure to avoid stepping on anything that might give him away. Every movement felt painfully loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Slowly, Jake turned the doorknob, grateful that it didn’t squeak. He opened the door just wide enough to slip through.

Now in the hallway, he moved swiftly toward the front of your apartment, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. He could see the shadow of your roommate behind her closed door, which he wanted to take advantage of, in case she had any ideas of stepping out anytime soon.

Before exiting, he paused to ensure the door wouldn’t slam shut behind him. He gently eased it closed until it latched without a sound.

Only when Jake was outside, the cool air hitting his face, did he allow himself to exhale. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. The thrill of narrowly escaping made his heart race as he walked away, blending back into the world as if nothing had happened.

-------------------------

You stepped back into your room, towel drying your damp hair, the scent of your lavender body wash still lingering in the air.

Your gaze landed on the door to your room. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of the hallway visible through the gap. You frowned, pausing mid-step. You were certain Ava shut it before you ended your conversation with her.

Shaking your head, you walked over and pushed the door closed with a soft click, dismissing it completely in the moment. But as you moved around the room, another thing caught your eye—your clothing dresser. The bottom drawer, where you kept your underwear and bras and a few other ones above it, wasn’t pushed in all the way. A small sliver of space separated it from the dresser frame, and you swore you’d closed it flush, as you always did.

You stood there, staring at the drawer. Then you laughed lightly to yourself, shaking the tension away. Seriously? You’re being ridiculous. Ava probably came in looking for some clothes to borrow, you reasoned.

To quiet the nagging thoughts, you reached for your phone and opened your messages.

You: thanks for being so understanding earlier about me canceling

You: i feel bad

The reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

Jake: ofc, don’t even worry about it

Jake: u deserve to have fun with your friends. just lmk if u need anything

The sweetness in his words made you smile, easing the tension in your chest. Jake was always so patient, so attentive. It made you feel safe. Despite the strange feelings lingering in the back of your mind, you found yourself focusing on how lucky you were to have someone like him.

You sank onto your bed, scrolling through your messages and exchanging a few more lighthearted texts with Jake. The oddities in your room faded into the background, brushed aside by the warmth of his words. Everything was finally feeling normal again.

-------------------------

Some weeks later, you and Jake finally became official. After some more one sided pining on his end, you eventually gave in. How could you not? He was the perfect boyfriend if there ever was one. He never pressured you to do anything, always let you decide where to hang out, and gave you cuddles at the end of the day when you were stressed. At least for now he did.

Anyway, you two were the couple. The kind of picture perfect pair everyone whispered about on campus. Sure, girls despised you for being the one to finally cuff the golden boy, their envy radiating every time they caught you two holding hands and walking each other to class. But who cared? Jake was yours, you were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

But damn, you never realized how clingy he could be.

It started small, little things that felt more endearing than overbearing. Like how he would insist on walking you to every single class or text you updates throughout the day about the most mundane things. But as time passed, you couldn’t help but notice how Jake seemed to always need to be around you.

Take tonight, for example. You’d planned a cozy night in with Ava, some junk food, a cheesy romcom, and long overdue catching up. But Jake had other ideas.

“Surprise,” he said, appearing outside your dorm with that boyish grin you found so hard to resist. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and takeout from that hole in the wall restaurant you loved in the other. And while you appreciated the thoughtful gesture, you couldn’t help but internally roll your eyes at the fact that he was here. Again. You loved your boyfriend's company, truly, but sometimes... you just needed a little space.

You blinked, caught between guilt and irritation. “Jake, I told you I was hanging out with Ava tonight—”

“I know, I know. But you work so hard, and I just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve to relax.”

It was sweet. Almost too sweet. You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Instead, you shot Ava a quick apologetic look from behind the door. She was perched on the couch, arms crossed, clearly witnessing the entire situation and waiting for you to shut the door on Jake so the two of you could finally start your movie. But that didn't happen. Instead, you promised to make it up to her, and followed Jake back to his car.

And this was starting to become a pattern. Whenever you had plans, especially with Ava, Jake would magically appear with something planned. A picnic in the park, an impromptu movie night, or a late night drive to “clear your head.” And every time, he’d have some way of framing it as him looking out for you.

“You’ve been so stressed lately. I just thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he’d say with a pout, his hands brushing yours as he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. “But if you’d rather be with her…”

The guilt would hit you like a ton of bricks every time. How could you say no to that? Ava would understand. You could always reschedule, right?

But she wasn’t blind.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jake,” she said one afternoon, cornering you in the campus coffee shop. Her tone was casual, but her words carried weight. “Not that I don’t get it—he’s your boyfriend. But I feel like we barely hang out anymore.”

Her words stuck with you, planting a tiny seed of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

You sighed, stirring your matcha latte idly as you avoided her gaze. “I know. I do. It’s just… he’s so clingy. That’s just how he is. And I feel bad saying no to him, you know? He gets so disappointed when I do.”

“I get that. I really do. But I feel like he’s kind of monopolizing your time. I mean, it’s not just me. Have you even seen any of your other friends lately?"

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped. She wasn’t wrong. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that. It’s not like I’m trying to push you all away or anything. He just… he makes me feel guilty if I even bring up spending time with anyone else.”

Ava reached across the table, her voice softer now. “Look, I’m not saying to ditch him or anything. I just wish you’d talk to him about it, set some boundaries. You shouldn’t feel guilty for having a life outside of him.”

Honestly, you were a little surprised at yourself at this point. Before Jake, you always promised that you’d never let anyone, let alone a guy, control your life. You had standards. You had priorities. Not that you don’t have those now, but your relationship with Jake wasn’t exactly what you envisioned for yourself back then. Sure, you liked him, maybe even more than you wanted to admit, but the version of you from before would never have tolerated being treated this way. You roommate was right. It was time to set some boundaries.

You nodded. “You’re right. If he tries to do it again, I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

Ava smiled, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “That’s all I’m asking. I just miss my best friend.”

Her words made your chest tighten, and you felt a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant for things to turn out like this.

And just as you had every intention to talk to him about it, you found yourself realizing how hard it actually was. It was almost as if Jake couldn’t fully grasp what you were trying to say, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

Here you were, in his room, standing near the edge of his bed while he sat there, looking up at you with those eyes. Soft, questioning, and frustratingly innocent.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to spend time with you,” you began carefully, your arms crossed. “I’m just saying I need to spend time with other people too, like Ava. She’s my best friend Jake, and I don’t want her to feel like I’ve forgotten about her.”

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing. “I don’t understand,” he said, his tone laced with genuine confusion. “Am I keeping you from her? I mean, I thought I was spending time with you because we like being together. Isn’t that normal in a relationship?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It is normal, Jake, but not when it feels like it’s all the time. I need some space to breathe, to see my friends, to just... be me for a little while, you know?”

Jake blinked, his expression shifting into something that looked hurt. “But I never stop you from seeing her. I never tell you not to. I mean, is it wrong for me to want to be with you? Am I doing something wrong here?”

His words made your stomach twist. He wasn’t raising his voice or arguing back aggressively. It just really seemed like he was unintentionally making you feel like the bad guy without even trying. You could feel your resolve starting to crumble.

“No, you’re not doing anything wrong,” you said, exhaling deeply, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s just... I need balance, Jake. That’s all I’m asking for.”

It was silent between the two of you for a few moments and by the look of his face, you could tell Jake was in deep thought. Then he leaned back slightly, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Come here,” he said softly. “Can we just cuddle for now? I don’t like fighting with you. We can talk about it later.”

You hesitated, staring at him, feeling the weight of the conversation slipping through your fingers. Part of you wanted to push back, to make him understand. But the other part, the tired part, just wanted to stop feeling like the bad guy.

Finally, you sighed and stepped closer, sitting down beside him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I’m sorry if I’m too much sometimes,” he murmured against your hair. “I just love being around you. That’s all.”

You didn’t say anything, just rested your head against his chest, hoping that maybe next time, he’d understand better. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if “next time” would even come.

You were then snapped out of your thoughts. You felt Jake’s arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, his hands gently moving you onto his lap as he laid down against the edge of his bed. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, letting your head fall into the familiar nook of his neck. The softness of his skin and the warmth of his body felt like a comfort, something you couldn’t easily shake off, no matter how many times you found yourself questioning things.

Inhaling deeply, you let his scent fill your senses, something warm, comforting, like a blend of cologne and the faint trace of his laundry detergent. It made you feel safe, even as the earlier conversation lingered at the back of your mind. Trying to push the thoughts away, you shifted slightly, moving even closer to him, needing to feel his strength, his presence.

He was so strong. So big. His arms felt massive against your body, holding you in place like he never wanted to let go. It was overwhelming in the best way, like everything outside of this moment didn’t matter.

Despite the frustration you’d been feeling with him earlier, there was still something undeniably comforting about being held like this. You couldn’t deny that part of you that loved how he took such good care of you, how he made you feel cherished in his own way, even if it was sometimes suffocating.

His voice broke through the silence, soft yet filled with something you couldn’t quite place. "Look at me," he said gently.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, a mix of guilt and apology swirling within them. You felt a pang in your chest, unsure if it was from him or the doubt creeping in. Was I really being that mean to him? you thought, the question lingering in your mind as you studied his face. He didn’t say anything further, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were full of remorse, as if he was silently pleading with you, trying to convey something deeper than words could express.

The weight of the silence pressed down on you. You had tried to voice your thoughts, but here he was, looking at you like this, and it made you feel like you were the one who overreacted. It made you feel guilty in a way you couldn’t shake off.

Without thinking, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips finding his in an almost instinctual gesture. It was a way of apologizing, of quieting the inner turmoil you were both experiencing. His lips were soft and familiar against yours, and in that moment, it felt like everything was okay again. For a few seconds, the confusion and uncertainty melted away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his touch.

But even as you kissed him, part of you still knew that you were sweeping things under the rug. You could feel the weight of the conversation that still needed to happen, but for now, you chose to silence it. You couldn’t bear to confront it while you were here in his arms, feeling like everything was falling back into place.

So, you continued to play along with the nice guy act—kissing him, feeling him up, giving him the affection he craved. And that seemed to make him forget all about the tension from earlier, his mood lifting with each gesture. What started as simple innocent kissing, soon turned into a heated makeout sesh, with Jake groaning into your mouth with no care in the world.

Even though your boyfriend was known for being the sweetest guy on campus, always the charmer with a warm smile and kind words, you couldn't forget that he was, at the end of the day, a man—a man with needs, desires, and an undeniable level of attraction. When you first started going out with him, you expected him to try to make moves on you, to test the waters, even before he would officially ask you out. It was only natural, right? Especially considering the way he always looked at you with that intensity, the subtle touches here and there, and the moment his eyes landed on you, you could feel his desire to see you stripped of everything. But surprisingly, he never really tried anything. Other than the occasional kissing or making out, there was never anything beyond that between you two. You appreciated the patience. It made you feel respected in a way that was uncommon to see in pretty much any man these days. And maybe that’s why you overlooked the weirdness that sometimes crept in.

So when you could tell he was beginning to feel worked up as you both aggressively made out, him trying to contain himself from thrusting up against you, you let him. And more than that, you encouraged it, meeting his hips halfway, letting some whines slip out as you both tongued into each other's mouths.

Jake was surprised at first, momentarily stopping his movements completely as you continued your relentless riding against the center of his groin. But he then quickly took it as a sign to keep on going, to bring it up a notch.

He started to move his hands from where they were at your hips, all the way down to the bottom of your ass, squeezing them with no shame at all. Surely, you were taken aback at his blunt action, but you couldn't deny that that didn't just turn you the fuck on.

You let him know to keep going by moaning once more against him, which he seemed to like a lot, as he picked up the pace of his hips, thrusting right up against your core. Your panties began to feel a bit sticky, since you were, now, beginning to feel what was right under you the whole time.

You were always curious about what it looked like. Or what it felt like. Sometimes catching glances of it in those grey sweatpants of his, or when he would manspread right next to you on his couch, legs spread wide open. But now your curiosity came to an end, because you could literally feel every. single. inch. of his outline.

And he was bigggg. You just knew. I mean, how could you not? With the way it was completely rock hard against you at this point, being shoved up right against your center over and over, and over again. Now, you were being the one who was beginning to feel riled up and you needed more than to just hump his lap. Thankfully, though, Jake noticed—and he did something about it.

The next moment, you were flipped on your back with Jake now on top, reversing the position you were just in. You let out a gasp of surprise as your back hit the bed's mattress in almost an instant. As you caught your breath, you could see in your dazed eyesight, Jake smirking at you from above, very much liking the affect he had on you.

You were about to teasingly roll your eyes at him, until he forcefully pressed his hips right in between your legs, drawing out a loud, unexpected moan from you. The feeling was so raw with his hard length pressed right up against you, making your pussy ache and crave for more. Then, with no warning, he increased his speed once again, thrusting faster, harder, and spreading your legs apart as far as possible, giving him better access to press his cock onto you. He took them and brought them up against his face, forcing you in a mating press, while continuing his harsh, merciless thrusts, eliciting endless whines from you, and deep groans from Jake.

At this point, you completely soaked right through your panties and your shorts. which you only noticed because Jake was intently staring at the dark spot forming on your shorts, fascinated. Embarrassed, you brought your hands to your face, covering it from his view, getting too overstimulated in the moment from the pleasure coming from Jake's dick, and the almost tangible sexual tension in the room.

"Fuck," he groaned with rasp in his voice, still staring straight at what was in between your legs. "You're so fucking hot. Can't get enough of you."

He then inched even closer to your body, removing his hands from in between your legs, and up to hug your back almost suffocatingly. With this new angle, he could get his cock to reach further up your clit, humping into you at lightning speed. His bed started creaking from the sudden movements, and in the moment, you literally thought it was going to fucking break, considering how fast he was going.

Your mind was blank, overtaken by the waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, you were lost in the sensation, completely dazed. But it still wasn't enough. You wanted to feel it. With nothing in between.

"Jakeee," you whined, almost desperately. "I need ittt... pleaseeee."

This got his attention, his face lifting up from the crook of your neck. He slowed his movements down, just a bit, but still fast enough to keep you in this mind fucked state.

"Need what, baby? Tell me."

This just made you whine even louder. He knew goddamn what. He was just being a bitch and not giving you what he wanted. But your stubborn self wasn't going to give in. Frustrated, you snaked your hand in between both of your tight knitted bodies, grabbing his dick through his jeans harshly, immediately evoking a low, drawn out grunt from your boyfriend.

"Need itt," you whimpered again, reminding him.

You didn't need to tell him twice after that.

Right away, he let go of you, grabbing onto the hem of your shorts and pulling them down all the way down your legs, until you were just covered in those thin, slutty, fucking soaked panties of yours.

He stared at you for a few seconds, loving and drinking in the sight before him. You were propped up on your elbows, a sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead, panting slightly and your legs spread wide open, just for him.

And as much as he wanted to rip his pants off already and shove himself into you, he knew that was just the easy route. If he truly wanted to get you hooked, to have you wrapped around his little finger, he had to stick to the promise he made to himself that day. The promise he made when he was staring at you unclothed, from underneath the crevice of your bed, in your own room that you had no fucking idea about. Yeah, he thought. This is what I had been waiting for.

So instead, he lowered himself off the edge of his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. He took your ankles into his grip, pulling you forward suddenly, prompting a high pitched squeak from you, so your hips were now just at the edge of the bed, with your legs spread wide, dangling and open in the air. With nothing in his way now, he placed his nose directly above your clothed pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, fucking shamelessly.

Yeah, this surprised you, but like c'mon... it was also so fucking hot. And the way he moaned into it, obviously liking the scent and burying his face even deeper, his nose pressing hard against your clit, sent your spiraling out of control.

"Jake what are you—"

"Shhh," he murmured against you, cutting you off. "Just let me."

So you did. Honestly, you would've let him do anything he wanted to you at this point.

After Jake was finally done with being a fucking pervert in front of his very own girlfriend and was finished with smelling your panties, he dipped his tongue out onto the fabric, applying just the right amount of pleasure. Your eyes instantly rolled back from the feeling, letting your arms and head fall back against the bed. If he was going to do this for you, you might as well enjoy it in comfort.

But for Jake, this was almost euphoric. After the first lick, he licked it again. And again. And again, until he was basically making out with your underwear, even going as far as to rubbing his whole face into it. And he honestly seemed like he was getting more pleasure than you were, moaning loudly enough that the neighbors would definitely come rushing to his door and complaining the next day. But after a while, he needed to really taste you, bury his tongue in your hole, with no fabric or lace in his way.

Finally, ripping your panties off your legs as quickly as possible, that's when he finally saw it—your fucking pussy. Dripping onto his bed, so, so, so perfect. He didn't have to even imagine it anymore. He no longer had to dream of it. After months and months of wondering what was hiding beneath the skirts you wore on your dates, he finally knew. And it couldn't have been more irresistible.

Wasting no time, he dug his tongue back in between your folds, ultimately getting a taste of the raw you. The real you he truly craved for for so, so long. He was instantly hit with a rush of euphoria as his eyes rolled back at the relish. Fuck, you couldn't have tasted better to him. And the fact that the whole time you were dating him, this is what you were hiding? This is what you had the whole time? Oh, poor naïve you. If only you would have known the affect just the thought of your pussy gave him. You could have been the one to have him wrapped around your finger. It could have been you. But unfortunately, it wasn't.

Minutes had gone by. Many, many minutes. Jake was currently sucking on your clit as you gripped tightly at the wavy locks of his hair, feeling the urge to rip out every strand as you got more and more overstimulated and impatient by the passing second. He had been going at your clit for the past who even knows anymore, and as much as his skilled tongue work sent you over the edge, you were starting to reach your limit and you needed his mouth off of you now.

"Jakee, it's too much," you weakly attempted, out of breath, as you tried to close your legs on him. Which obviously, didn't fucking work considering how fast he was to open them up again. You sighed in defeat as he just kept on going, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

"Jakee. Stop it. I can't—"

"Shut the fuck up."

Um, what?

Flabbergasted, your body froze briefly at his sudden tone. Your sweet, kind boyfriend who had never even said the words "damn" or "hell" in front of you was now speaking to you like that? Who did he think he was?

Jake could tell you were taken aback by what he said, with the way your mouth was agape in dismay, your eyes fully widened.

"What," he chuckled, enjoying your state of shock. "You fucking asked for it didn't you? So you're going to take it."

And that's all he said, before he lowered his mouth back onto your core, lapping up every single drop, not letting a single morsel of your arousal go to waste. But even that still didn't distract you from your agitation. He had been eating you out for at least fifteen minutes at this point. And you couldn't take another second of it.

Again, you tried to move your legs out of his grasp, but struggling in the end. His grip on your thighs was so tight, it felt like he was trying to anchor you to him, making sure you couldn't escape even if you wanted to. Still, you kept trying to squirm away, your body instinctively resisting, though each attempt only seemed to make his grip stronger. His hold on you was unyielding, and the harder you struggled, the more you felt the tension building between you both. He wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

"Stop fucking moving," he said, mouth full of pussy.

Whining, you started thrashing around. You needed to get him off of you.

"What did I fucking say—"

"Wait," you blurted out impatiently, a strange feeling stirring within you.

"What?"

"I think.. I-I'm gonna.." you whimpered weakly, as you felt an unfamiliar feeling building up inside of you.

"Gonna what?" he asked confused as he looked up at you, but still not letting up on your hole.

The feeling was getting more urgent, something you couldn't ignore as he kept on sucking. It was so foreign, that you didn't know what it could have been, until it was finally ripping out of you.

"Ahhh!" you screamed, overwhelmed by a sensation you had never experienced before.

You orgasmed.

But it wasn't a regular orgasm. You didn't just come.

You fucking squirted.

All over your boyfriend.

The liquid spilled out of you, shooting into the air, most of it landing on Jake's face—coating not just his mouth, but his nose. And his eyes. Everything. Everywhere.

For a second, you both just stood still in shock, not knowing what to do, your eyes and mouth open wide in horror. The air was thick with tension, neither of you moving, neither of you saying a word. It felt like time had frozen, the moment hanging between you like an unspoken question, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

You were so fucking embarrassed. You had never squirted in your life. Ever. No man you have ever spent a night with has ever made you feel so pleasured the way that Jake did, in just minutes. You never expected for your first time to be repaying the person in their face, let alone that person being your own boyfriend!

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, close it up, and never leave it again. The weight of shame pressed down on you, suffocating you, making every breath feel like it was being dragged through mud. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, and everything seemed to spin faster as you wished for the ground to swallow you whole.

And it didn't help that Jake was just staring right at you, panting heavily, with your fucking arousal painted all over him. You were expecting him to get up and walk out, or maybe even slam the door in your face, kicking you out like it was nothing. But to your surprise, that didn’t happen. Instead, he broke the silence just seconds later after catching his breath.

"That was... so fucking hot."

Wait what?

What did he say?

"... Huh?" you asked hesitantly.

"I said," he began, as he started crawling back up onto the bed, not even caring that your slick from his face was now dripping onto his sheets. "That was so.. fucking... hot." He said the last words with an emphasis that carried so much tension, each syllable hanging in the air like an ultimatum. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, unsure of how to respond. The silence that followed was deafening, almost suffocating, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. His eyes never left yours, and there was something in them that you couldn’t quite decipher. Probably his horniness, you concluded.

"Fuck, I need to fuck you so bad," he finally confessed, staring directly at your lips.

And honestly, that idea didn't sound too bad. So you stared right back at him in the eyes, challengingly.

"Fuck me then," you said ultimately, as if daring him, testing how far he was willing to go.

"What'd you say?" he asked, his voice almost tinged with disbelief, as if trying to convince himself that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Making sure he wasn't so horny to the point that he was hallucinating shit now.

"Fuck me."

The next thing you knew, your legs were being hauled up over your own head, once again, in what felt like a literal millisecond. After that, everything felt like a blur. The sound of the metal from Jake’s belt slipping through the loops echoed in the silence, the sharp clink of the buckle followed by the soft hiss of leather rubbing against fabric, pulled off in a rush.

Once all of his clothes were finally on the floor, you took your goddamn time to admire him while you were still perched on the bed. His pecs might have been as big as your own tits while his biceps were strikingly humongous. And damn, that holy six pack.

You were starting to understand now why every girl admired him on campus. His personality was evidently perfect, intelligent, sociable, and effortlessly charming. But you knew that already. However, you hadn’t quite considered just how much his physical appearance played a part in it all. The way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space around you, the confidence in his posture that commanded attention without him even trying. And that slutty ass waist...

And then your gaze trailed lower... and lower. Until you finally laid your eyes on.. it.

You gasped lightly, Jake finding your reaction quite amusing, already knowing what it was you were gawking at. How the hell is that going to fit inside me?.. you thought.

It had to have been at least 8 inches. And it was veiny as fuck. Just the sight of it made your mouth water a little.

As much as it wouldn't go in that easily, you wanted it everywhere. Inside you, in your mouth, and maybe even from behind too. You were starting to imagine all the possibilities and wondered why it took you so long to finally do this with him. It's not like you were any better to be honest, considering since the day you met him you always wondered what that thing of his could do. And now, you were about to find out.

While he positioned himself right in between your legs, you hastily ripped your shirt and bra off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

"It might hurt a bit," Jake announced. "Just tell me if I should go slower."

You nodded, not even listening, your eyes never leaving his giant cock as he aligned it against your hole. But you should've listened, because nothing could have possibly prepared you for the first push of his dick.

It entered you with almost no warning, your body still getting used to the feeling, considering you haven't had sex in a while. And none of your past experiences could have compared to what Jake had. So, for you, it hurt. Like hell. More than usual. But you're a fighter, and you were going to take his 8 inches like a champ. So you took a deep breath, eyes shutting, and pushing through the pain while Jake inched even deeper.

But Jake, on the other hand—he seemed like he was already in heaven. Even when just his tip aligned with your pussy, he was already not confident enough he would be able to hold back, wanting to ram into it immediately and take you with no hesitation. But he can't scare you off like that. At least, definitely not now. So instead, he maintained his composure (or at least tried to) as he pushed his length into you just a few more inches.

He was probably halfway in now. And while you were still getting used to the stretch, squeezing Jake's arms from the pain, he was seriously about to fucking cum. Your cunt couldn't have squeezed him better. Your walls wanted to push him out so badly, while he simultaneously thrusted farther and deeper into you.

And when he finally made it all the way in, you gripped onto his chest fiercely, stopping him, not yet sure you'd be able to take him just yet.

"Just a moment," you voiced urgently. "I just need to get used to it first."

And while Jake nodded and remained rooted inside of you, he was going crazy and faltering out of control. The longer he remained still, the more he wanted to insert himself even deeper, thrusting into you with no abandon. He tried to think about your side though, he really did. How your probably trying your best to speed things up and get used to his size, but just couldn't help how big he was. But that thought just turned him on even more and he needed to move.

"Are you good now?" he asked, his voice laced with more desperation and want than he intended, needing to ram into you so badly. And although you weren’t entirely ready yet, you figured you were probably prepared enough to start. So you gave him a quick nod, which you immediately regretted a few seconds later.

The way that the moment you started to tilt your head to form a nod, he took that as a sign and did not hesitate to thrust all of his length up your fucking cervix, already going at a pace you could not handle.

You gasped, loudly and understandably, since Jake was basically ramming into you from the start, leaving you no time to fully adjust. His arms came down to cage your body from under him, his face buried into the mattress right next to yours, already groaning so damn loudly while you yelled in pain. His pace unfathomably increasing, not faltering for even just a second.

Thankfully though, after a few more seconds, the pain was starting to form into pleasure and lust. You could feel that familiar surge of nerves racing through your entire body while your pussy got fucking violated from Jake's dick. And the urge to scream at him to stop pounding into you slowly faded away in the background.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hung wide open in a silent scream. His gigantic cock slammed into you at a constant rate, nonstop and uninterrupted. His balls slapped your ass every time he thrusted hardly, definitely marking you with some redness down there.

His body was right on top of you, making it harder to breathe as you both moaned loudly, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. He was hitting you just right, in the exact places where you felt it the most. Where you felt it the hardest, the most authentic and raw.

You brought your arms up and lifted his head from where it rested on you, your hands framing his face between them. He stared at you from above, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, sweat sheering his forehead, pleasure and lust written all over his face.

Never you imagined you would see your boyfriend like this. In such a state so vulnerable. So real.

And it was so fucking hot.

"Fuck," you moaned. "I think I'm close Jake."

"Yeah?" he asked, out of breath.

"Mhmmm..," you whined almost pornographically, and you felt Jake's dick twitch from inside of you, knowing he was close too.

"Me too," he grunted hoarsely. He readjusted himself as his pace sped up, thrusting his hips at a pace so unfathomably violent and fast, that it was starting to hurt your insides just a bit. But it hurt so good.

He brought his lips down to your right nipple, sucking and nibbling at the flesh until it was hard against his tongue, then switching sides to your other tit, milking out everything. He slurped and bit harshly, leaving dark purple and red marks that looked like it hurt. You moaned even louder, your pussy getting so wet that it was starting to coat the bed and even the insides of Jake's thighs. You were dripping literally everywhere.

"Want me to give you my babies?" Jake asked, once he was done with your boobs, grinning slyly while his pace fastened even more.

Not even able to fully comprehend the seriousness or reality of his question, you just shook your head weakly, only focused on cumming. Your brain was so fucked out at this point.

"No?" he chuckled lowly. "I bet you'd be such a good mommy though."

And that was all he said until Jake's thrusts were beginning to get sloppier and sloppier, his face contorting while his eyes rolled back to the brim, shoving in one final thrust, until he shot his thick, white ropes of cum inside you with absolutely no warning.

The sensation was so intense, so unfiltered—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your entire body went rigid, frozen in place. You let out your loudest scream that night, when you felt his fluids paint your insides, unleashing your own orgasm. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your back arched off the bed, until finally, you stilled—your body reminiscing the after moments.

Jake, so fucking exhausted, dropped right on top of you after getting arguably the best orgasm of his life. He panted heavily, eyes shutting immediately, feeling like he just ran a marathon with not a single drop of water.

And that was the last thing you remembered before the weight of exhaustion pulled you both into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-------------------------

After that day, you and Jake had sex, a lot. And everywhere.

In the shower, on the bed, on the floor, the wall, the couch, and even in his roommate's bed (but no one needs to know about that).

It was as if you had both hesitated, afraid to be the first to cross the line—but once it was done, the hesitation vanished, leaving nothing but a mutual understanding between you.

And now, here you were, kneeling down in between your boyfriend's legs, as he sat on his couch. His clothed dick was resting in your mouth, as his hands pet your hair gently.

"Come on, don't be shy," he encouraged, as he drank in the sight of you. You were innocently looking up at him from where you were on the floor, your mouth right on the center of his sweatpants.

"I'm not shy," you said, your mouth still around his dick.

He raised his eyebrow in suspicion, teasingly, not fully convinced by your statement. So, you applied more pressure on his dick, definitely not biting it, but just more force on your mouth overall.

His hips immediately and instinctively thrusted upward at the feeling, while his hand pushed your head downward onto his cock, groaning from pleasure.

You groaned too, although the sounds were getting suffocated and muffled from his pants.

"Okay, enough teasing. Just suck it already," he demanded out of desperation.

He released the pressure from head so you could breathe better, while you took this opportunity to take the hem of his sweats in your hands. You tugged them down slightly as he lifted his hips, allowing you to slide them lower with more ease. Once they were low enough and the only thing separating you from his cock were his briefs, you placed your mouth back onto his center. But this time, you sucked and licked on the fabric, almost like you were mimicking his same actions from the first time he ate you out.

This made his legs spread even wider, hands pushing your head lower onto him as you suckled onto his cock through his underwear, feeling his arousal spreading throughout the cloth. You could almost taste his pre cum at this point. His whiny moans were getting louder, reminding you that you should probably get to it already, so, you removed your mouth from where it was while you finally tugged his briefs down, releasing his hard dick that slapped against his abdomen with urgency.

It looked so damn juicy and delicious. It stood up straight confidently, with pre cum leaking out of the tip from the hole. Veins covered it from top to bottom, and the observation made your own panties start to dampen.

Without hesitation, you brought your tongue to the tip, slurping up all of the pre cum, and almost rolling your eyes back from the taste. Sure, it was bitter and salty, and not your typical go to appetite, but it came from Jake. And that was good enough.

He cursed from above you as you took the whole head of it in your mouth, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. And once your mouth got used to his size, you reached lower and lower, until the halfway mark hit the back of your throat already. You wanted to take it in all the way, but there was just no way it was going to fit. And Jake knew that. So instead, you took your right palm and grabbed the base of his cock, jerking it off while you bobbed your head on the parts that would fit in your mouth.

Now, this wasn't the best head you've ever gave, you'll admit. It was pretty sloppy, but Jake didn't seem to mind. It was understandable, considering the fact that it was pretty uncommon for the average lady to take 8 inches down the throat anyway.

The sounds of you gagging, which seemed pretty unattractive to you, turned Jake on way too much. Him knowing the fact that your tiny little mouth with a gag reflex couldn't take his big, aching cock—the idea rattled him too much, moaning and grunting as he just watched you try to suck it as best as you could. Trying your best to impress him.

But he was growing impatient. And while Jake knew that you couldn't make it fit, he knew he could. So without any notice, he removed your hand from the base of his cock and slammed his hips upward into your mouth, releasing the most yearning moan out of him.

Your throat burned instantly while Jake began to fuck your mouth. You brought your hands up to his hips, grabbing and thrashing at him, trying to warn him that you couldn't take it. But Jake's head was thrown back so far in pleasure, he had no fucking idea. He just kept your head in place with that grip of his, continuously hitting the back of your throat as your tiny, pink lips jerked him off. Tears began to stream down your face, tasting the saltiness of them as they met with your mouth.

Fuck, this couldn't go on for much longer.

You tried to voice your concerns, struggling to make any sound, desperate to get Jake’s attention, but your mouth was still full of dick. And the vibrations from your attempts to speak just sent Jake even more over the edge, groaning loudly as his eyes shut closed in pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm so close.." he managed to mutter, eyes still sewn shut, hips still fucking up into your face.

You tried to breathe through your noise, knowing now that he was about to finish anyway, but really, nothing was helping and your jaw went slack.

Thankfully, with his hips stilling for just a second, you were able to get a small puff of air, before he was ramming back up and shooting his cum down your throat.

The tangy flavor instantly filled your taste buds, but not for long, as you removed your mouth in no time, gasping for air, as if each breath was your last. Finally being able to breathe normally again, you caught the sight of Jake, still very much cumming, but now with your mouth removed, it was darting past you and onto your face. Some got caught in your eyelashes while some landed on your lips. It was almost ironic how, not too long ago, you'd done the exact same thing to Jake, staring into his face with that same intensity while you sat there panting, trying to catch your breath.

But he wasn't done. He grabbed onto your face forcefully with one hand, opening your jaw back up and positioning it right where his dick was, while his other pumped his pent up cock a few more times, with the last bits of his cum spilling out and landing right inside your mouth. Your body jerked at the taste once more, while Jake just watched you, mouth wide open, swallowing up all of his juices with that look of pure sex and passion.

------------------------

"He did what?" Ava asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Yeah, I mean, it was definitely pretty unexpected, but like, it was hot," you admitted, watching Ava's face still struggle to process the information.

"But like, it's Jake we're talking about here. I didn't even know he was freaky like that."

You let out a sigh, brushing the hair from your face. "Yeah well, you can never really know with men," you tried to explain to her, glancing down at your hands. "Anyway, let's talk about something else."

"Okay, well did you ever actually talk to Jake about setting those boundaries? You said you were going to do that, right?"

You froze for a moment, the guilt creeping up your spine. "Well," you started, avoiding her gaze, "I tried... but he didn’t really understand. He kept asking me what he did wrong, and it just felt like he was putting it all on me. Like, I couldn’t even explain myself without him getting defensive." You bit your lip, trying to suppress the frustration. "I don’t know, Ava. Maybe I didn’t handle it right, but it was like he was more concerned about himself than actually listening."

Her expression hardened, lips forming a thin line. "You can’t keep brushing stuff under the rug just because he’s sweet sometimes," she said, her voice firm. "You deserve someone who respects your boundaries, not just someone who only hears what they want to hear."

"I know," you whispered, feeling the weight of the situation. "I just... I don’t want to make things awkward or hurt him. But it’s hard when he just doesn’t get it."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "I get it, but you can’t keep ignoring how you feel just to protect him. You deserve to feel heard and respected, not like you have to change for someone else."

You nodded slowly, feeling the truth of her words settle in. "You're right. I just don’t know how to make him see that."

"Hey, give it some time. He might not understand now, but try talking to him again. I'm sure he'll come around."

------------------------

You and Jake were lounging on the couch in his apartment, your feet tangled in a blanket while a movie played softly in the background. The atmosphere was casual, comfortable. Your thoughts were still lingering on that conversation you had with Ava earlier, and it wasn’t until Jake suddenly perked up that you snapped back to the moment.

“Hey,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a grin. “Heeseung is throwing a party at his place later. Wanna come?”

You sighed, unsure. The idea of a party was definitely not appealing and you weren’t exactly in the mood for one of Jake’s big group hangouts with his friends. “I don’t know,” you said, hesitating. “I’m not really into your friends.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, the soft smile still on his lips. “Why not?” His voice was light, but you could hear the curiosity under it.

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it without offending him. “Well… they’re not like you. They’re not sweet and gentle.” (yeah right.)

Jake’s expression softened at your words, and he let out a small laugh. “Aww, babe,” he murmured, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry. There are gonna be other people there too. I promise it won’t be all my friends. And you’re gonna have fun, I swear.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, not entirely convinced. You liked Jake. He was easy to be around, but his friends? You weren’t so sure. The idea of spending an evening with a bunch of loud, overly confident guys didn’t exactly excite you.

“I dunno, Jake…” you trailed off, still unsure.

Jake leaned in a little closer, his eyes soft and coaxing. “Come on, just for a little while,” he said, his voice sweet, almost pleading. “I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You won’t be alone, I promise. And I finally want to introduce my amazing girlfriend to my friends.”

At that, your heart softened just a little. He was just trying to make you feel included, and part of you wanted to make him happy. He had been so patient with you, always caring and thoughtful. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you were imagining.

You hesitated, glancing at him and meeting his eyes. There was something about his sincerity that made it hard to say no.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in with a sigh, offering him a small smile. “But only because you’re gonna be right by my side the whole time. And if it gets awkward, we’re leaving.”

Jake’s grin widened as he pulled you in for a quick hug, his arms warm around you. “Deal,” he agreed, his voice bright. “We’ll make sure it’s fun. I promise you’re gonna have a great time.”

You felt the tension in your chest ease a little, but there was still a small part of you that wondered if this was a good idea. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing Jake was determined to make it a night to remember.

And a night to remember, it was.

You recalled the booming bass of music, lights flickering and bouncing around the rooms, crowded bodies dancing together. It was your typical college party. The kind of place you’d avoid if it wasn’t for Jake’s hand firmly holding yours as he led you through the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, standing on the edges, unsure of where you fit in.

Jake noticed immediately, of course, and with his signature warmth, he pulled you closer. “See? I told you you’d be fine,” he said with a grin, his voice almost lost in the loud music, though he kept his tone reassuring. “Just relax. Let’s get a drink.”

You smiled back, trying to push down the knot in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jake, or even that you disliked his friends, but the scene was overwhelming. Bodies pressed too close together, the noise echoing in your skull, and the flashing lights making everything feel a little too surreal.

As you followed Jake through the crowd, you caught sight of his friends scattered throughout the room, laughter and conversations blending with the music. Heeseung was in the center, as expected, with a few other guys hanging out by the table, while a couple of girls chatted nearby.

Jake waved to them all as you approached, introducing you with a warm smile. “Hey, everyone, this is _____,” he said proudly, his hand on your back. “She’s a little shy, but I’m sure you’ll love her.”

You offered them a polite smile, trying to steady your nerves. They were all smiling back, their eyes friendly enough, but there was something in the air that made you feel like an outsider. They didn’t know you, not really, and as much as you tried to push that thought aside, it lingered.

“So, this is your girl, huh?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, man. I thought you were all about the party scene, not settling down.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not about the party scene anymore. I’m all about her,” he said, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you a little closer.

You could feel your cheeks warm at his words, the possessiveness in his tone making you both giddy and uneasy. You smiled awkwardly, trying to stay in the moment, but the eyes of his friends were on you, analyzing, judging, like you were a puzzle they couldn’t figure out.

“Alright, alright, no need to embarrass the poor girl,” another one of his friends laughed, giving you a friendly wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.”

You couldn’t decide if that was supposed to be comforting or not.

You stood there for what felt like probably hours, as Jake chatted away with his friends, eagerly accepting every drink offered to him, while you politely declined each one that came your way. Your eyes started to feel heavy from the monotony, a yawn escaping your lips as you were about to ask Jake to leave. But then, you felt it.

Jake's hand, gripping your ass from under your miniskirt. Out of fucking nowhere.

It was as if all of your senses heightened in that moment, eyes widening, darting around to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully—well, or maybe not—no one seemed to be paying attention. You did your best to force a smile, turning to Jake, but he was lost in conversation, laughing away with his friends, completely ignoring you while his grip just got even tighter, squeezing your ass to the point to where it stung.

You lightly (or not so lightly) tapped his side, trying to get his attention. After a moment, he finally turned his gaze toward you.

"Hmm?" he asked, almost innocently.

You gave him a pointed look, trying to hide the growing frustration that bubbled up inside you. "Jake," you said, your voice low but firm. "What the fuck are you doing."

The innocent expression on his face quickly faded, replaced by a stern glare that made you feel small and uneasy, a wave of fear creeping up your spine. He squeezed your ass again.

"Don't," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation as he noticed you trying to get the attention of his friends.

Then, without warning, he shifted his position. Where he had once been standing beside you, he was now directly behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, possessive embrace, almost as if giving you a romantic back hug. But there was nothing romantic about this. Especially considering how he started to subtly grind himself against your ass. This immediately made every nerve in your body on high alert, your eyes flickering around out of embarrassment. All of Jake's friends were still gathered around, caught up in deep conversation. Some were drinking, others smoking, but they were all very much present. What completely threw you off, though, was how none of them seemed to notice what Jake was doing to you. The dimmed lights and the haze of drunken chatter certainly helped, but still. It was as if they were oblivious to everything happening just a few feet away.

"Jake, you're drunk," you said, your tone getting weaker by the second, but still trying to regain control of the situation. "Let's just go to the bathroom. We can continue in there if you want."

You hoped the suggestion would calm him down, give you both a moment of privacy away from the crowd, but as you looked at his face, the flicker of emotion there made you second-guess your words.

Jake just seemed oblivious to your growing discomfort, or maybe he just didn’t care. He ignored you completely, incessantly grinding his now hard cock into your ass, whimpering lightly right into your ear, where he began to lick and bite.

You felt humiliated at this point. How could nobody see what was happening? Were they just pretending not to notice, or did they simply not care? You looked uncomfortable, giving up on trying to appear normal, and now desperately trying to signal for help, hoping his friends might intervene. But nothing. No one noticed, or if they did, they turned a blind eye.

You didn't understand. Why was he acting like this? Sure, he was drunk, but that didn’t excuse what he was doing. His slurred words, his frantic movements, none of it made sense. He had crossed a line, and yet, in his haze, he seemed unaware of the damage he was causing.

"Jake, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. You could feel the tears threatening to spill. "Let's just go."

"Shhh.." he whispered into your ear, sucking on it, clearly giving you no mind. His hands roamed from you waist all the way up your dress, until they reached your breasts, groping at the flesh and shoving his hand inside.

You couldn’t take it anymore. With all the strength you could muster, you grabbed his hands and threw them off of you, rushing out of the crowd. Your heart pounded in your chest, and adrenaline surged through your veins as you bolted towards the first door you could find. Without even thinking, you slammed it shut behind you and locked it.

You found yourself in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The lights flickered above you, casting a harsh glow on your tear streaked face. You barely recognized the person looking back at you—disheveled, disoriented, and utterly broken. You felt dirty, like his hands were still on you, even though you were now alone.

The tears came without warning, streaming down your face as you sank to your knees. You tried to catch your breath, but the overwhelming feeling of being violated, ignored, and trapped consumed you. How had it come to this? How could your sweet, loving boyfriend do this you? How could he treat you like this, especially so shamefully, right in front of all his friends? You felt betrayed, confused, and disgusted by the very person who had once seemed so perfect.

You hugged your knees to your chest, feeling the coldness of the bathroom floor seep into your skin, but it didn’t compare to the ice forming in your chest. Jake had always been the guy who made you feel safe, made you feel like you were the only one that mattered. But now? Now it felt like he’d turned into someone else, someone you didn’t even recognize.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears off your face, but they kept coming. The humiliation lingered, gnawing at your insides. The fact that no one else had noticed—or maybe they had and didn’t care—made it worse. It made you feel so small, so invisible. But the worst part? It was Jake, the person you trusted, the one who said he loved you, who had done this to you.

You wished you could turn back time, make it all disappear. You just wanted to feel safe again.

You pulled out your phone with shaky hands, scrolling to Ava’s name and pressing call. The ringing felt like it lasted forever, but no one picked up. You tried again. Straight to voicemail.

It was too late at night. She was probably asleep, unaware that you were falling apart on the other end of the line. A strangled sob escaped your throat as you clutched your phone, feeling more alone than ever. You wanted someone, anyone, to help you, to pull you away from this nightmare.

After what felt like an eternity, you mustered up the courage to leave the bathroom. Your legs felt weak, your body still shaking as you opened the door and stepped out. The music was still blasting, the party still in full swing, as if nothing had happened. You scanned the room desperately, searching for a familiar face, someone who could get you out of here.

But everyone was too drunk, too caught up in their own world to notice the panic in your eyes. You approached a group standing nearby, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hey… can you help me?”

They barely acknowledged you. One girl gave you a fleeting glance before turning away. Another guy just laughed at something his friend said, completely oblivious.

No one cared.

And then you saw him.

He was already making his way toward you, his face painted with guilt, his steps quick and deliberate. Before you could react, he was in front of you, his hands reaching out.

“Baby,” he started, his voice soft, apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You flinched away from his touch, the sight of him making your stomach turn. Anger, fear, and heartbreak crashed over you all at once, and suddenly, you were thrashing at him, pushing at his chest, hitting his arms. “Get away from me, Jake!” you choked out, your voice breaking. “Don’t touch me!”

But he just grabbed your wrists, his grip firm but not harsh. “Shhh,” he murmured, pulling you outside, away from the crowd. The cold night air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the burning in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you sobbed, twisting in his grasp, but he wouldn’t let you.

Instead, he cupped your face and kissed you, forcefully, desperately. You tried to pull away, but he only deepened it, as if that would fix anything.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s go home, okay?” he coaxed, his voice gentle, as if nothing had happened. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t be mad at me, baby.”

His hands stroked your arms as if to comfort you, but it felt suffocating.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised, his eyes pleading. “I love you.”

And just like that, he was leading you away from the party, his grip firm but careful, as if he hadn’t just shattered your trust into a million pieces.

By the time you both reached his apartment, Jake’s grip on your wrist had loosened, but the phantom weight of it still burned against your skin. As he fumbled with his keys, he shot you a small smile, his tone light, casual, even.

“Just remember, my roommate’s home, so we can’t be too loud, okay?”

You nodded numbly, but your mind spiraled. What would happen if you begged for help—would he even help you? Or would he just brush it off like everyone else at the party?

It seemed so simple, so easy. All you had to do was open your mouth.

But you couldn’t.

The words never came. The air felt too thick, the weight of Jake’s presence suffocating. It wasn’t fear exactly, it was something more complicated, something more deeply ingrained. Like no matter how much you wanted to, your body simply wouldn’t let you.

So when Jake was eventually leading you to his room while he undressed the both of you, stripping you both completely of any clothes, you just let him—too weak to put up a fight, too weak to resist the way his hand pressed against your body, touching you in ways that used to feel so loving and precious, to now malicious and unwanted.

You were just too exhausted to argue.

Your body felt heavy, like you were sinking into the floor with every step, but Jake didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

The door clicked shut behind you.

"Baby, you know I love you," he tried to tell you as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading them wide, just like he did that day.

You couldn't even speak, not able to find the words, or maybe just too afraid to try. Your throat felt tight, like any attempt to talk would only come out as a broken whisper.

He brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing gently at first, and then speeding up his movements. And as much as you hated it, your body reacted the way it wanted, with your hole getting wetter and your body heating up.

"C'mon, don't act like you don't like it," he said with a smirk, savoring the sight of you beneath him. So vulnerable, so weak. The feeling of control sent a rush through him.

Even with mascara streaks on your cheeks, tear stains, messy hair, dark circles, and swollen eyes, Jake still thought you looked beautiful. To him, you were breathtaking. Raw, unfiltered, completely his. He brushed a strand of messy hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your damp cheek.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are right now," he murmured, his voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite place. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, his eyes dark with emotion.

You wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body felt heavy, drained. Instead, you just stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But you couldn't see anything.

This new feeling of power he had over you made his dick stand up, as he just stared at you and your emotionless eyes. Your face was sucked of all of it's life as he pushed his cock in, and this is where you realized that your boyfriend was gone. But he was never really ever there though. The man you thought you fell for, it all just crumbled before your eyes, revealing a stranger in his place. The man you thought you knew, the one who made you feel safe, had never truly existed.

"No, no stop. Pull out," you weakly attempted, hoping he would finally listen to you, but to no avail. He just kept on pushing in, sighing and momentarily pausing his movements once he bottomed out, before he was eventually pulling back and thrusting forward again.

"Don't worry, it'll feel good soon baby," he tried to hush you, but it only made things worse, intensifying the panic bubbling inside you as you struggled to push him away, your heart racing.

You shoved against his chest, panic rising as you struggled to break free. Every inch of you screamed to escape, but he wasn’t budging. His grip on your wrists tightened as he slammed you back against the bed. His eyes flashed with frustration.

“This is your warning,” he growled, voice low and threatening. “If you don’t stop, I won’t be nice anymore.”

But you didn’t care. If he wanted to play this game, you were going to play it. You continued to twist in his grasp as best as you could, determined to break free no matter what.

"Stop bitching," He grunted, his grip tightening as you continued to struggle. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, he didn't budge. His eyes burned with intensity as he held you in place, not showing any sign of his movements stopping inside of you. You could feel the tension in the air, but your defiance only grew stronger.

"Okay, that's it."

He seized a handful of your hair, the sharp sting of his unyielding grip making you cry out in pain. With a forceful tug, he yanked you off the bed, throwing you face first into the mattress. His weight pressed down on the back of your head, forcing you further into the fabric, the pressure relentless. You struggled for air, your screams drowned beneath the suffocating pressure of the mattress as you thrashed helplessly. Every movement felt weak, your body’s desperate attempts to break free only muffled in the fabric, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever.

"I told you," he began sternly. "I won't be nice anymore."

Keeping your head pinned against the bed with one hand, he pulled your arms behind your back, his grip unyielding as you fought against him. It was no use though, how the next thing you knew, he was shoving his full length into you all at once.

You screamed, the pain searing through you, unbearable and relentless. Every inch of your body screamed in protest, but the intensity only grew, leaving you feeling powerless and raw as he quickly built up a pace, so violent against your hole and violating your body in one go.

But the more you screamed, the tighter the pressure around your chest became, each gasp for air growing more desperate and shallow. The world around you seemed to blur, the pain and suffocation overwhelming every thought as you struggled for just a breath.

"Yeahhh... that's it," Jake sighed, moaning and throwing his head back.

"I like you better like this," he spat. He just couldn't help it. Your wetness was just jerking him off too good, pussy clenching around his cock, even though you hated every second of it.

That was what made it so intense—his absolute power over you. The way he controlled every movement, every breath you took, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. The fear mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name, but it made the struggle feel all the more real. His dominance was undeniable, and it made your every attempt to break free feel meaningless.

He just kept on going, slamming those muscular hips into yours, that were now probably bruised, weak, and way too sore to even stand up straight. At this point, you were too consumed by the struggle to breathe, your entire focus narrowing to each labored gasp. Everything else faded into the background—the pain, the fear, the fight—until all that mattered was the next breath, and even that felt like a distant hope. You stopped trying to fight it, the weight of it all crushing any will left to resist. It was as if you’d given up, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of being trapped in this moment.

The pleasure you once felt from your boyfriend was now twisted, a distant memory drowned by the overwhelming sensations that felt far from comforting. What had once ignited warmth and connection now left you hollow, the intimacy corrupted by the force of control. Every touch that used to feel reassuring now seemed to carry a weight, shifting from something you craved to something you no longer recognized.

Your vision started to blur, the edges of everything softening as if a fog was slowly creeping in. The sounds of Jake's cock and your arousal squelching together became distant, muffled, like they were coming from underwater. Your thoughts turned hazy, slipping through your mind like water through your fingers, leaving only fragments of clarity. It was as if the world was dissolving into a haze, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, everything felt heavier, slower, more distant.

As your consciousness began to slip away, your thoughts became a fractured blur. You could feel the edges of reality fading, like sinking into a dreamless void. The pain dulled into a distant echo, and the struggle to breathe became a quiet, desperate rhythm in the back of your mind. A sense of surrender washed over you, as if everything was slipping through your fingers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. The world grew darker, quieter, until it all faded into nothing.

------------------------

The days after what happened felt like a blur of weakness, an overwhelming numbness that clung to every part of you. Your body was there, moving, but it didn’t feel like yours. You went through the motions, eating, sleeping, and existing, but the life had drained out of you, leaving you hollow. Jake begged you to stay with him for a few nights after what happened. He told you how sorry he was, how he’d messed up, and promised that he could make it up to you by being the "perfect boyfriend" again by cooking for you, cuddling you, treating you like nothing had changed. He even said he would make sure you felt happy again. And part of you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that things could go back to normal, that somehow you could undo everything that had broken inside you.

But that wasn’t how it worked.

You didn’t know how to explain to Ava what had happened. You didn’t know how to say it aloud, to break down in front of her, to admit how broken you felt, how you’d lost yourself in a way that felt too overwhelming to put into words. It was too much, and the fear of being seen as a mess, of having her look at you with pity or confusion, kept you silent. So you stayed with Jake. You stayed in his room, cocooned in the strange comfort of him pretending everything was fine. He acted like nothing had changed, like the hurt he’d caused wasn’t there, and for a while, you let him.

You hadn’t gone to class in days. The weight of everything kept you locked in that room, a prisoner of your own inability to face what had happened. Jake was your only form of “entertainment,” your only distraction from the mess inside your head, even though, he was the one who planted that mess in the first place. But as much as you tried to convince yourself it was fine, the truth was clear: You were never the same after that night. Jake noticed, though not in the way you might’ve hoped. He noticed the way you didn’t smile anymore, the way your once sharp arguments with him turned into silence. He noticed how you withdrew into yourself, your eyes dull, your words fewer. But he didn’t care. In his mind, you were still his, still under his control, and that was all that mattered. Maybe to him, you were better like this.

Days passed in this strange, disconnected state. You no longer felt like yourself, but you didn’t know how to fight back or even what to fight for. The numbness only deepened, and you wondered if you would ever feel like you again.

Eventually, you couldn’t avoid facing the outside world forever. After almost a week, Jake agreed to let you go back to your place, so you could finally fix yourself up a bit.

You walked through the door of your apartment, expecting to be greeted with concern, with Ava asking where you’d been, why you hadn’t been answering her calls, why you hadn’t been to class. You expected a wave of relief, a safe place where someone might understand. But when you saw her standing there, her expression wasn’t relief—it was frustration, anger even.

She demanded to know where you had been, her voice sharp with worry and annoyance. “You’ve been gone for days. You didn’t show up for class. You wouldn’t pick up my calls, and now you just walk in here like everything’s fine?” Her words felt like a slap. “I was worried sick!”

You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything—everything that had happened with Jake, the way he’d broken you, how trapped you felt, how empty you were now. But as soon as you tried to speak, the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell her what had happened. Not like this. Not in a way that would make her understand.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to explain, but the words felt weak, disjointed. You wanted to say that Jake had hurt you, that everything had changed in ways you couldn’t explain. But when you looked at Ava’s face, you saw the doubt in her eyes, the skepticism.

“Jake?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Jake is the nicest guy ever, you know that. Everyone loves him. He’s never even laid his hands on a fly.” Her words were sharp, cutting you off. “I don’t understand. Why would you even say something like that?”

The disbelief in her voice hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how much you wished she could see the truth, but instead, you felt smaller. Like a part of you was breaking in front of her.

“I... I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just need help, Ava. Please.”

But she wasn’t listening. She backed away, her arms crossed over her chest as if she couldn’t even fathom what you were saying. “I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her words cut deep, and with each one, you felt more isolated, more abandoned in your own confusion.

Your heart sank. You had hoped she would believe you, hoped she would understand, but instead, she questioned you, as if what you were saying was the lie. The emptiness inside you grew, as if the world was slipping through your fingers. You were alone, and even the one person you thought would be there for you couldn’t, and wouldn’t understand. You weren’t sure how to fix any of this, or even if it could be fixed. All you knew was that you were broken, and no one seemed to care enough to help put you back together.

You came running back to Jake, broken, sobbing, feeling like there was nothing left of you. Everything you had known, everything you had thought was secure, was falling apart. Ava had turned her back on you, your closest friend, the one person you thought would understand. She didn’t believe you. She wouldn’t listen to the pain you’d endured, wouldn’t see the truth of what had happened. Her trust was gone, and with it, so was any semblance of the life you had before. Your family, too, was slipping away. You had pushed them all so far, not responding to any of their calls or messages, unsure how to explain what you were going through, or if you even could. The space between you and them only grew with each passing day.

Jake shushed you gently, his hands moving to soothe you as if he could wipe away the pain with each soft touch. He pulled you into his chest, cooing softly, assuring you that everything was fine now. You didn’t need anyone but him. He was there for you, he would always take care of you. He whispered over and over that everything would be okay, that the people who hurt you, your friends, your family, didn’t matter. He was all you needed now.

You found yourself spiraling, withdrawing more and more into the safety of Jake's arms. He was the only constant left in your life. The only person who seemed to care, or at least, you told yourself he did. He welcomed you back with open arms every time you ran to him, his hands soothing as he whispered over and over how sorry he was for everything, how he didn’t mean to hurt you. He promised he would make it up to you, and for some reason, you let yourself believe it. The promises of making things right, it felt comforting, like you were returning to something familiar.

And the more you spent time with him, the more you realized just how much of your life was slipping away. You stopped going to class, stopped seeing your friends, stopped reaching out to your family. You let it all go, burying yourself in Jake’s world. He was your everything now, your only source of comfort, your only form of connection.

And when Ava moved out of the apartment a few weeks later, it was like the final piece fell into place for Jake. He wasted no time in moving his things in with you. At first, you told yourself it was a relief. Now you’d have him all to yourself, no distractions, no one to intervene. But as he settled in, things began to change.

Jake’s presence started to feel suffocating. He had you all to himself now, and the isolation was complete. You no longer had anyone to lean on, no one to offer a second opinion, no one to speak truth to your doubts. He knew exactly what he was doing. He watched you, broken and fragile, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping you afloat. He could see it in your eyes, the vulnerability, the desperation. You were easy to manipulate now, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away. Every word he spoke was calculated, every story he spun designed to pull you deeper into his web.

He fed you lies, yes, but they weren’t just lies, they were carefully crafted truths, twisted versions of events that only he could control. He knew exactly what to say to make you doubt everything you thought you knew. With every lie, with every slanted version of reality, he watched your perception of the world begin to crumble, piece by piece.

You remembered that one night, months ago, when Ava had told you about how she kissed Jake during a spin the bottle game. It resurfaced in your mind randomly, and curious to hear his side of it, you hesitantly brought it up to Jake.

But when you mentioned it, Jake’s eyes turned cold for a moment. He shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, voice tight. “Ava tried making moves on me that day. She was obsessed with me, always had been. But I never really reciprocated. She just couldn’t take a hint, you know?” He said it with such conviction, his words painting her in a way you hadn’t considered before.

The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You started to believe that Jake was the only one who truly cared about you, the only one who understood you, and anyone else—especially Ava—was just a threat to your relationship.

He could see the doubt forming in your eyes, the way you hesitated before speaking, and he knew it was working. He was twisting the truth, slowly erasing the foundation you had built your friendships and relationships on. You were starting to believe him. It made him feel powerful, like he was the one who controlled your reality now. You were his.

And the best part? You didn’t even realize how deep he had dug in. He wasn’t just convincing you of lies, he was rewriting your entire past, making you question everything, even yourself. He was the one who had become your anchor, and the more he spoke, the more you trusted him, even when you felt a strange unease. The more you doubted the people who had once been in your life, the more you needed him. And Jake knew that. He thrived on it.

You didn’t realize it at first, but you started to build an entirely new narrative in your head. You told yourself that Ava had never been your friend at all, that she had been a threat to your relationship with Jake from the beginning. That’s why she was so mad when you tried to tell her what Jake had done to you. She didn’t care about your pain, she was just angry that you had gotten in the way of what she wanted. You convinced yourself that she was jealous, that she wanted Jake all along. The realization felt bitter and suffocating, but you pushed it down. You believed Jake. You had to. He was the only one who had stuck by you, the only one who hadn’t betrayed you.

And so, you cut ties. One by one, you stopped answering your friends’ calls, stopped replying to their messages. You didn’t need them anymore. They didn’t understand. They never would. Your best friend was gone, and with her, your past life. You blocked her number, you blocked all of them. Jake was the only one who remained. Jake was all you had left, and in some twisted way, you were okay with that.

------------------------

As the days turned into weeks, you felt yourself slowly becoming more isolated, but Jake reassured you that this was how it was supposed to be. He was all you needed. And when he started packing up his things to officially move in with you, you helped him, eager to keep the peace, to build the life that seemed perfect. But that’s when you stumbled upon something that shattered everything.

As you were helping Jake pack, moving boxes from his old place into yours, you found something you weren’t meant to see. Buried beneath a pile of clothes and books were items that didn’t belong to him. Items that were yours. Your things—your jewelry, your lost underwear, personal things you had kept in your apartment. You froze, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach as the truth hit you. You’d never realized it before, but now, it was all laid out in front of you.

Suddenly, it all clicked. You remembered how your bedroom door had never been pushed all the way closed that one day, or how something just felt off in the room, like a presence that wasn’t supposed to be there. You remembered all those clothes that had gone missing over the past few weeks, the shirts, the panties, the things you never thought to question before. It was as if everything you’d ignored or brushed off was now flooding your mind, each detail falling into place, connecting the dots in a way that made your stomach drop. The realization hit you hard, like a cold wave crashing over you.

Those subtle changes, those small signs that you had convinced yourself were nothing. Now, they felt like undeniable evidence.

He had been there. He had been in your space, when you weren’t looking. It was all starting to make sense, but the truth was so much darker than you had ever imagined.

You thought you knew him. You thought you had control over your own life. But now, as the pieces fell together, you understood just how much of it had all been carefully orchestrated. You hadn’t just been blind to his manipulation, you had been living in it, suffocating beneath it. And it wasn’t just your trust he had stolen. It was everything.

Jake had been here, in your life, controlling everything in ways you never even realized, and as the truth crashed down on you, you stood there, frozen, not knowing whether to scream, run, or finally face the man who had torn your world apart.

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